The Heart of Christmas

by Brenda Novak

  “I don’t see anything in here that belongs to a man,” he said.

  She gave him a curious look. “A man?”

  “I’m safe to assume you’re not married? You aren’t wearing a ring, but not everyone does.”

  Particularly a woman hoping to pick up a guy in a bar. Now she understood. She’d been too busy berating herself to clue in, or his meaning would’ve been clear from the beginning. “Do you make a habit of sleeping with married women?”

  “Not when I can think straight. But last night I wasn’t using a great deal of discretion. I don’t even remember how I got here.” He lifted a hand. “Wait, yes, I do. There was some waitress from that hole-in-the-wall honkytonk who—”

  “Sexy Sadie’s.”

  “What?”

  When his eyes flicked to her, she noticed that they were a startling shade of green, far lighter than the more common hazel. His eyelashes and eyebrows matched the darker streaks in his hair.

  “That’s the name of the bar,” she clarified.

  He shrugged. Apparently he found that information irrelevant—as though a bar was a bar and he’d frequented many. “Anyway, I have this vision of some waitress driving us over here and dumping us on what appeared to be a very long driveway, and that’s about it.”

  When Eve’s mind conjured up the same memory, she barely managed to stifle a groan. “Noelle Arnold.” That Noelle, of all people, would know what they’d done made it so much worse....

  “You don’t like her?”

  Her tone had revealed more than she’d intended. “Not a great deal. Not since she seduced her sister’s boyfriend, then claimed she was pregnant so he’d marry her.”

  “Small towns...”

  She didn’t like the way he said that. It seemed to imply that they were too backward to behave with as much sophistication as city folk. “I happen to be close friends with Kyle, the man she duped. Of course I’d feel defensive.”

  “You can feel defensive all you want, but this Noelle person did us a favor. She could easily have left us to our own devices. I certainly deserved it. I haven’t gotten that wasted in—” without bothering to ask, he rummaged on the nightstand and helped himself to one of her elastic ties so he could pull back his hair “—a couple of years.”

  She could’ve pointed out that if Noelle had really been looking out for her, she would’ve seen to it that she got home safe and alone. But then she remembered making out with this man in the backseat of Noelle’s car. No wonder Noelle had dropped them off together. Now she was probably running around, telling everyone she could think of that Eve Harmon, of all people, had picked up a stranger and taken him home to bed.

  His eyes narrowed. Something about her had caught his interest. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She combed her fingers through her hair in an attempt to untangle it. While she had far bigger concerns than her appearance, she couldn’t entirely resist her female vanity. Because her hair was jet black and her eyes blue, people often told her that she reminded them of the Disney version of Snow White. Some red lipstick added to the effect; she’d often capitalized on that when she needed a costume.

  But maybe he didn’t find Snow White all that appealing. He didn’t seem too impressed.

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “You’re blushing.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You absolutely are,” he said. “Did I say something to embarrass you?”

  She stopped trying to act as if discovering him in her bed was no big deal. “This whole situation embarrasses me,” she admitted. “I’ve never taken anyone home from a bar before and, unlike you, I won’t be leaving this town any time soon. That means I’ll have to face all the people who witnessed my licentious behavior.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Licentious?”

  “Promiscuous, debauched. Whatever you want to call it. Waking up with a total stranger isn’t something that’s normal for me.”

  He studied her, his gaze...thoughtful. “Last night you told me it was your birthday.”

  “And?”

  “Quit being so hard on yourself. From what I could gather, it was a rough one. And with the holidays coming up, and knowing you’re going to spend another year alone, you said it wasn’t likely to get any easier.”

  Damn. She’d shared that? Hadn’t she revealed enough when she took off her clothes? “My birthday was fine. Spending another Christmas as a single woman is fine. Everything’s fine.” How could she complain when she’d always had it so good?

  She could hear the scrape of his beard growth as he ran a hand over his chin. “What’s that saying about protesting too much?”

  “I’m not protesting.”

  “If you say so.”

  Holding the sheet in place, she slid a few more inches away from him, but she couldn’t go far. She was about to fall out of bed. He wasn’t bulky, but he had wide shoulders and he didn’t seem to be concerned about giving her space. “If you know it was my birthday, you remember more than getting dropped off here,” she said.

  “It’s coming back to me.”

  Bits and pieces were coming back to her, too. How she’d noticed him watching her from where he sat alone at the bar. How she’d danced for him in such a seductive manner, reveling in the appreciation she kindled in his eyes. How he’d eventually gotten up and walked over to join her. How he’d danced with her, so cautiously and respectfully even though the sparks between them felt like they were about to burn the place down.

  How she’d slipped through the crush of bodies on the dance floor to catch her breath outside and he’d followed....

  There were still things she couldn’t recall, however, and his name was one of them. Had he ever told her what it was?

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  Without even a stretch or a concluding peck on the cheek, he climbed out of bed and started to dress.

  At least she wouldn’t have to ask him to leave, she told herself. It looked as if he planned on walking into the sunset—or sunrise since it was early—as soon as possible. But this wasn’t New York or Los Angeles. He couldn’t just hail a taxi. She lived in the Sierra Nevada foothills of Northern California in one of the many mining towns along Highway 49 that had sprung up when gold was discovered a century and a half ago. It was a community that hadn’t changed as much as one might expect in such a modern, technologically advanced world. And if the lack of urban conveniences in Whiskey Creek wasn’t enough of an obstacle, she lived several miles outside town. There was very little traffic out here and no buses or other public transit.

  He’d have a long hike if he intended to make his way back to Whiskey Creek without catching a ride from her.

  Or maybe he planned to call someone. He had a cell phone and, for the most part, there was service.

  “You won’t answer?” she asked.

  “What difference does my name make?” he finally responded.

  That set off alarm bells, since one of the other things she couldn’t recall was whether they’d used any birth control. He wasn’t one of those weirdoes who went around purposely infecting people with HIV, was he?

  “You don’t want me to know who you are?”

  Having donned his boxers, he jammed one leg and then the other into a pair of well-worn jeans. “I don’t see any purpose in exchanging personal information.”

  So he’d already decided he wasn’t going to see her again. She hadn’t been entirely sure she wanted to see him. He hadn’t been that friendly so far, but she felt a measure of disappointment all the same. She had enjoyed what she could remember of last night—and what she remembered more than anything else was the way he kissed. It was so good, so completely bone-melting, that she grew warm just thinking about it. A man who really knew how to kiss a woman seemed like a nice place to start a love affair.

  “What if I need to reach you?” she asked. To tell him he’d given her herpes, for instance.

  He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry, but last night...
I shouldn’t have let it go the way it did. I knew better and...I wasn’t going to, but...God, you can dance.”

  “So you do have one nice thing to say....”

  “I told you not to take what we were doing seriously, but...I’m sure that’s all forgotten. So I’ll say it again. I’m not interested in a relationship.”

  He couldn’t even take her to dinner before calling it quits?

  Obviously her luck with men wasn’t improving—even when she opened herself up to a random encounter.

  “Why?” she asked. “Are you married?” At this point, his rejection was so unequivocal she almost hoped he was. Then she wouldn’t have to credit it to some failing on her part.

  “No.” He didn’t even look over when he responded.

  “You have a girlfriend, then?” Jared. She was almost certain he’d said his name was Jared....

  “No. I might be a lot of things, but I’ve never been a cheater.”

  Great. She must’ve acted like a desperate idiot last night. Or maybe she wasn’t nearly as good at kissing—or other activities—as she was at dancing.

  “Was it something I did?” Normally, she wouldn’t have asked. It was difficult to lower her pride. But if he was going to brush her off anyway, what could it hurt to learn the reason? Maybe that information would help her know why she couldn’t seem to find Mr. Right.

  “No.”

  That was it? That was all the feedback he was willing to give her? “You’re far too generous. Thanks for the reassurance.”

  He glanced up at her sarcasm. “At least I meant what I said. It’s not you. It has nothing to do with you.”

  But he still wasn’t interested. Why? “Just tell me we used some protection, Jared,” she said. “Then you can take off.”

  “Of course we used protection.” He scowled, but she couldn’t tell if that was in reaction to her remembering his name or the nature of her question. “I wouldn’t leave either of us vulnerable to what could happen without it.”

  She clutched the sheet tighter. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “Condom wrapper’s on the floor. I’ll leave it for you to throw away, if that makes you feel any more secure. And just to reassure you, I’m clean.”

  Seeing the wrapper he’d mentioned peeking out from under her nightstand, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Not that you seem worried but...just in case, so am I.”

  “What?” He was searching for the rest of his clothes.

  “Clean. Well, to be totally honest I’ve never been tested. I wouldn’t even know where to go to get tested. But I’ve only been with three other guys, and one of them was clear back in high school, when we were both virgins.”

  He got down to peer under the bed and came up with a missing sock. “Going by what you told me last night, they were all from around here.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “This place doesn’t strike me as a hotbed for venereal disease.”

  She watched as he sat down and pulled on his hiking-style boots. He stood without lacing them. “Don’t tell me I gave you my whole sexual history,” she said.

  “Why? You don’t have much of one. It didn’t take long.”

  “Sounds as if I was a bit of a blabbermouth.” That wasn’t appealing. She probably wasn’t experienced enough for him.

  “You were trying to explain why you were so hungry for a man.”

  There was no judgment or accusation in his tone. It sounded as though he was merely trying to jog her memory. But she didn’t want to be perceived as sexually aggressive. Most people didn’t consider that a positive trait, especially when it was associated with a woman. “I’m sorry if I was too...uninhibited or—or overeager.”

  “You were honest about your needs, which is why I thought I could fulfill them. Our exchange was simple. Straightforward. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “I’m glad you’re satisfied.”

  He reached for his shirt. “You’re not?”

  She knew he was referring to the many orgasms he’d given her and changed the subject. “Why are you here? In Whiskey Creek, I mean. What brought you to this area?”

  “I wanted a change of pace. Heard it was pretty up this way.”

  “So it’s not because of your job.”

  “I’m taking some time off.”

  She noticed another scar, this one on his back. “Were you in a car accident or something?”

  He didn’t seem surprised by the question. She could only assume he heard it every time he bared his upper body. “No.”

  “What happened?”

  “Shark attack.”

  What she saw didn’t look like a shark bite. It looked like he’d been cut by a knife, or maybe he’d been caught in barbed wire. “Really?”

  “No.”

  For whatever reason, he didn’t want her to know anything about him. “Are you like this with all women—or is it just me?”

  He didn’t answer. After shrugging into his shirt, he buttoned it and then paused at the foot of the bed. “Last night was—” he seemed to be putting some effort into choosing the right words “—a welcome diversion. Thank you.”

  “And thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of trash you tossed aside.” Those words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. She was offended that he wouldn’t even tell her his name, that she’d had to remember it without any help from him, but she could only blame herself for this situation. She was the one who’d extended the invitation. Actually, she’d done more than that. She’d enticed him. She’d never acted so wanton in her life.

  She thought he’d walk out on her. But he didn’t. As he stood there, staring at her, a muscle moved in his cheek. “Do you ever have any thoughts that don’t come out of your mouth?”

  She raised her chin to let him know she didn’t care if he approved of her or not. The fact that last night really hadn’t meant anything to him, not even enough that he’d want to have a cup of coffee together, stung and she’d reacted. She wasn’t going to beat herself up over it. “Not often. Why, does my frank approach wound your sensitive nature?”

  “Some things are better left unsaid.”

  The disappointment and anger he inspired bubbled to the surface again. “If I was as good at feeling nothing as you seem to be, I wouldn’t have any trouble divorcing my mouth from my heart. Maybe not caring is something you get better at with practice.”

  “This isn’t my fault,” he said. “You needed an escape last night as badly as I did.”

  “Says you.”

  As his gaze moved over her, she got the impression he was speculating on whether she needed another escape now. There was a flutter in her stomach, her breath caught in her throat and it seemed as though time stood still. As though...she wasn’t sure what. She didn’t like him, resented how he’d treated her this morning, and yet...the sizzling attraction that had brought them together in the first place hadn’t disappeared. That was suddenly obvious.

  The intensity on his face made her think he might return to the bed. But then he reined himself in, hard, and that hungry expression was hidden by a stoic mask. “Just because I don’t say everything you want me to doesn’t mean I feel nothing.”

  It took a moment for her to collect herself, but as he started down the hall, she called out, “It’s a long walk to town. And it’s December. Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride?”

  “No, I’ll make my own way back,” he replied.

  2

  That was a mistake. Rex McCready knew better than to let himself get involved with a woman like the one he’d just slept with. But last night he’d been craving more than a perfunctory encounter. He’d been hoping to assuage the aching loneliness that plagued him, to finally connect on an emotionally honest and intimate level.

  It’d been so long since he’d felt close to anyone. To make matters worse, he’d been traveling from town to town for over a week, which meant he’d spent Thanksgiving in a hotel room,
alone. The holidays were always rough, regardless of where he happened to be.

  But if he wasn’t careful, he’d drag another innocent party into the mess he’d created. And he couldn’t do that. Four years ago, he’d almost lost the only woman he’d ever loved to the men who were looking for him. Allowing himself to care about someone else merely threw him back into the same situation, a situation that left him vulnerable—and made anyone he cared about vulnerable, too.

  Last night he’d acted selfishly and he’d gotten drunk to give himself the excuse. But he had a sneaking suspicion that even without the whiskey, it would’ve been impossible to resist the beautiful woman who’d singled him out at the bar.

  Eve. That was her name. He’d heard the waitress who drove them back to her place call her that, and he’d found it as ironic then as he did now. She’d tempted him and he’d fallen, although she wasn’t the kind of woman he should be with. She was far too innocent, too trusting, too conservative in her ideals. She hung on to the people in her life; he could tell that from the little she’d told him.

  He glanced back at her bungalow with a regret he didn’t want to feel. If he could’ve stayed a bit longer, made love to her when they were both sober—that would’ve done a lot more to fill the gaping hole inside him. But he was only driving himself crazy by dwelling on what he couldn’t have. He didn’t want to be responsible for bringing danger into anyone’s life—and if he’d learned anything since being released from prison, it was that associating with him could be dangerous.

  At least the hours they’d been together had given him a much-needed escape, even if it was far too brief.

  A truck came rumbling up from behind. He stuck out his thumb, hoping to catch a ride, but the driver squinted at him through the dirty windshield as if he couldn’t imagine any normal person hitchhiking these back roads in the chilly dawn, and drove on.