Speaking of secrets, her spending the night at Tom’s house wasn’t likely to remain one around Farish. When she was backing out of the driveway a half hour later, who should cruise by but Muffy Ledbetter, whose expression registered surprise and astonishment when she recognized Beth’s minivan.
Oh, great, Beth thought with dismay. The last thing she needed was for Muffy to mention in her column that she’d seen her leaving Tom Collyer’s house.
Beth managed a halfhearted wave, which Muffy returned. Muffy would undoubtedly believe the worst. But so what? Did it really matter?
Amazingly, it didn’t.
THE MALL IN AUSTIN was thronged with last-minute shoppers, but they might as well have not been there for all Beth cared. She found herself humming along with Christmas carols in the stores, smiling at people she’d never met and never would. She was on a mission to buy new lingerie.
As she made her way from store to store, she was amused to realize that she was studying the garments the way she imagined Tom might. Did he prefer seductive black lace or red silk? Neutral beige or pristine white? She hadn’t shopped for lingerie in a long time, and when she came to a specialty store that showed an elegant nightgown and pegnoir set in the window, she went in.
Inside, however, the inventory was slightly more racy. No, a lot more. In fact, she was utterly fascinated. Were there women on this planet who actually wore such things? One item, a shocking pink corset, had no front and no back, only lace straps holding a minibra and thong together. Beth decided that she’d have to be a contortionist to get into it. She lingered over a black slip with only a few bits of lace binding it together at the sides and wondered what good it could possibly do; wasn’t a slip supposed to keep people from seeing what you were wearing under a dress? While she was pondering this, a perky salesclerk bounced up to her and asked if she needed help.
“I—um—” Beth couldn’t help it. She blushed furiously. The clerk only kept smiling, so Beth tried again. “I’m planning a special night with a man,” she managed to say.
“Ah,” the clerk said knowingly.
Beth took heart from the thought that the woman probably heard this sort of thing all the time.
“Right this way,” the clerk said, leading her to an alcove. “This is our bestseller at Christmas.” She held up a red lace teddy. It was a whole lot smaller than any hanky Beth had ever seen.
“I’m not—” Beth started to protest.
“Oh, but, sweetie, you are. With a figure like that, you could wear this. Believe me, when your man sees you in it, he’ll be all over you. Besides, it has a Santa cap to match.” She held up a red hat edged with white marabou and faked a French accent. “Très chic, non?”
“I’ll try it,” Beth said in order to avoid choking with laughter.
She was summarily guided to a fitting booth and left alone to stare at the red garments in her hand. Then she really did laugh. Chloe would die if she ever knew that Beth had actually tried on this sort of thing.
Once she had the teddy on she had to admit that she was sexy. Even so, this particular piece of underwear seemed to have no practical purpose whatever. In the first place, the bra had no cups. The lace underneath, where the cups were supposed to be, provided support enough, so that was okay. There was also no front, only a sweep of lace down the center of her torso that ended in a panty, if you could call it that. In the back, the thong diverged into two strappy wisps that attached to another strappy wisp across her back. It was all too ridiculous to contemplate.
But if she wanted Tom to be “all over her” as the salesclerk said, this was the ticket.
In the end, she bought it, maybe because she couldn’t face trying on any more bits of nothing or perhaps because her wearing such a thing was totally out of character. She wanted to surprise Tom, and surprised he would certainly be.
Unfortunately, the teddy was so pricey that she was consumed with guilt for not buying Mitchell more presents, so she stopped on the way home and bought him a Shrek game that he’d begged her for a couple of weeks ago.
When she got the teddy home and spread it out on her bed, she had her doubts again. The usual Beth McCormick wore bras with elastic that had lost its stretch and an old T-shirt for sleeping. That Beth had never owned a teddy. But for an evening of passion with Tom Collyer, she needed to morph into a previous self, the person who had once enjoyed sex. Who had loved and been loved and was thinking about loving again.
Tom phoned as she was rewrapping her purchase in tissue paper.
“Eddie and I got those bikes put together,” he said. “It was a hassle. By the way, Leanne said she’d call and invite you to Christmas dinner, but I have another idea.”
“I was planning to roast a turkey on Christmas Day,” she told him.
“All by yourself?”
“Yes, and I usually make several pans of turkey tetrazzini to freeze for quick meals when I’m working and rushed for time.”
“I always cook a Christmas goose. How about if you and I cook Christmas dinner together? Alone. Well, except for the goose.”
“Fine, but I’ve never heard of goose tetrazzini,” she teased.
“That might be one of the drawbacks of my plan,” he allowed, sounding amused.
She paused, but only for a heartbeat. “Wild-rice casserole would taste good with goose. So would salad and pumpkin pie.”
“Great,” Tom said. “And how about going to the Hartzell pageant with me on Christmas Eve?”
“I’d like that,” she said. The annual pageant was a project of the Hartzell family as their gift to the community, and it depicted the nativity in miniature tableaux set up on two vacant lots downtown.
“The festivities start as soon as it gets dark, so I’ll pick you up around five-thirty. Okay?”
“That sounds fine,” she said.
After they hung up, she cleaned her closet and discovered, at the very back of one of the shelves, a box of candles. Humming, she went to find every candleholder she owned. Setting the scene for seduction was great fun, she decided as she placed the candle-holders here and there around the house. She carried in extra boughs of evergreens that she had stored in the garage after making the decorations for Breakfast with Santa, arranged them on the mantel, strung them along the staircase, banked them on top of the new armoire. Then she nestled the candles among the branches.
She regretted not having bought a fresh tree, but all the good ones would be gone by now. Anyway, she’d never wanted a tree without Mitchell around.
Now she wished she’d considered one. That symbol of Christmas, with its lights and ornaments, might have cheered her up, and it would have been something to share with Tom.
BETH LOVED THE MAGIC of the Christmas pageant—the dramatic lighting of each tableau, the artistry of the three-foot-tall hand-carved figurines that populated the scenes, the hushed reverence of the crowd as the age-old story of the first Christmas unfolded before their eyes. But she hadn’t gone in years. She’d stopped attending when Mitchell had started visiting his father for the holidays.
On Christmas Eve, she and Tom, along with the other attendees, walked from one tableau to another on a gravel path along the river. When they came to the scene of the shepherds coming to worship the newborn Jesus, Tom slid his arm around her shoulders.
“I’d forgotten how special this is,” he whispered.
She put her arm around his waist, certain that she wouldn’t have been here if Tom hadn’t invited her. Being at the pageant again made her understand that she’d shortchanged herself in years past; she’d thought it would be impossible to find joy in the Christmas holiday without her son. She never would have guessed that all she had to do to feel part of things was to go through the motions and let the spirit of the season envelop her. With a sense of wonder she let this sink in, and she knew that never again would she sit home and ignore the celebration going on around her.
She had Tom to thank for this new attitude, and she darted a grateful glance up at him.
She was surprised to discover that he was looking down at her at the same time, and they exchanged a smile that somehow, in the middle of this crowd, was undeniably intimate.
As soon as they’d seen the whole pageant, they followed other pageant-goers toward the town square. Almost every door bore a wreath, and most of the houses had lights strung amid the shrubbery. At one of the side streets, Chloe appeared with a group of carolers and grabbed Beth’s arm.
“Come along,” she said. “Choirs from all the churches are converging on the courthouse to sing on the steps. You, too, Tom.”
Beth, more willing than not, found herself singing along at the edge of the group as they walked, Tom on one side of her, participating in his deep baritone, and Chloe singing soprano on the other. The stars twinkled brightly, and the moon cast the bare tree branches in silver. The world seemed like a beautiful place in these moments, their voices spinning a magical web that bound them all together in peace and love.
Soon they arrived at the square, where the courthouse was brightly illuminated for the holiday season. Along with everyone else, they climbed the wide steps and took their places between the tall white pillars. Someone dimmed the electric lights as volunteers handed around candles stuck through circles of gilded cardboard, and then there was the sound of lighters and matches being struck. In a matter of moments, more than a hundred candles were lit, and in the glow of their flickering golden flames shone the faces of Beth’s fellow townspeople and friends. There was Gretchen and her husband standing one pillar over, and Divver and Patty Holcomb with their daughter, Amy, occupying the step above them.
A choirmaster from one of the churches led them in singing “O Holy Night,” a song that featured a solo by Teresa Boggs. And then, their voices ringing out in the frosty air, they were wishing one another “merry Christmas” and “happy holidays,” and invitations were being issued to drop over sometime soon.
As Beth and Tom drifted away from the group, Chloe came running after them. “Would you two like to go with some of us to Gretchen’s house to admire their new leg lamp? You remember, like the one in the movie A Christmas Story. It’s a present from her mom.”
Beth and Tom exchanged amused glances. “Well,” Beth began.
“Afterward a bunch of us are going to Zachary’s to grab a late snack.”
Wordless communication passed between Beth and Tom, and she knew that he wasn’t in the mood to be with other people any more than she was. “Thanks, but not tonight,” she said.
“Okay. Call you soon,” Chloe said before hurrying off.
“Well, I don’t own a leg lamp, but let’s go back to my house,” Beth said wryly. She’d stashed away a bottle of wine for the occasion, and then there was that red teddy in her bottom dresser drawer.
“Good idea. I have a surprise for you.”
“What?” she asked, smiling up at him.
“I’m not telling.” His eyes held a secretive gleam.
She wondered about this all the way home, but Tom gave her no clues.
At her house, he said, “I’ll come in the back door. You go in the front.”
In response to her quizzical look, he only smiled. “Go ahead. Unlock the kitchen door for me, will you?”
Beth rushed to comply, switching on the lights in the house one by one as she hurried from front to back. By the time she arrived in the kitchen, Tom was waiting for her on the back stoop. When she opened the door, she saw that he was standing beside a small tree planted in a huge pot.
Speechless, she stepped aside while he hauled it in. “I bought a live Christmas tree so you could plant it somewhere on your property later,” he said. “Where do you want it?”
She recovered her powers of speech and asked him how he’d managed to get the tree into her backyard without her seeing him.
“Divver and Patty dropped it off on their way into town after you and I had left for the pageant. He buys a live tree for his family every year, so I asked him to find one for you, too.”
“It’s wonderful,” she said, taking in the shape and color of the little Afghan pine. She directed Tom to the living room, where she pushed aside the comfy old armchair in one corner. “We’ll set it here. I’ll dig the box of tree decorations out.” She’d spotted it in the back of the hall closet when she’d been looking for Mitchell’s duffel.
After they’d brought out the lights and ornaments, the garlands and the Christmas angel for the top of the tree, Beth inserted a disk of Christmas music into the CD player, and soon Tom had spread the lights on the tree’s branches. Beth stood on a chair to drape red and green velvet garlands from branch to branch while Tom offered advice, and then they collaborated to hang gold and silver balls, Tom handling the top of the tree, Beth the bottom. When they had finished, he offered his hand and pulled her to a standing position.
“Tinsel?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I like it better without.”
“So do I,” he told her, giving her shoulder a companionable squeeze.
She smiled up at him. “Thanks for bringing the tree.”
“I couldn’t have you celebrating Christmas without one,” he said, gazing down at her.
She went into the kitchen and returned with glasses of wine on a gilt tray. While Tom leaned against the mantel, she went around the room lighting candles that bathed their surroundings in a golden glow. Then she switched off all the lamps so they could admire the effect.
“Wait,” Tom said, when she would have taken the matches back to the kitchen. He caught her and swung her around to face him. Their eyes met; his were silvery in the candlelight, and his gaze was tender. He stroked the side of her face, a gentle feathering from cheek to jawbone, and she leaned into his hand. Heat radiated from his body, warming her, chasing away the chill. Emotion swept over her, but it wasn’t the raw lust she had felt in her younger days when she’d fallen for Richie. It was something entirely different and new, built of respect, and the certainty that the two of them were meant to share something deeper than friendship. She savored the moment, thinking about the preparations she had made to be with him.
“Tom,” she said unsteadily, but this time it wasn’t a warning. It was an invitation. Her head tilted back, and his hand molded to the curve of her head as his mouth covered hers and her arms pulled him close.
He felt so big and strong, his muscles hard against the palms of her hands, and she gave herself up to the kiss. His lips were insistent, seeking, making her forget who she was. Mitchell’s mommy—that had been her identity for a long time now. But Tom made that part of her fade away, leaving a woman who felt like a stranger to herself. Who wanted to be desired as a woman, and loved as a woman, and who wanted to reciprocate in a way that left no doubt that she was one.
He stopped kissing her, captured her face between his palms. “Wait,” she murmured, her eyes dancing with excitement. “I have a surprise, too.”
He seemed puzzled as she backed away.
“You’ll see,” she said.
In her room, she undressed quickly, tossed her sweater and slacks in the back of her closet and quickly unwrapped the teddy from the tissue paper. She put it on, got the straps twisted, took it off and started all over. When she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror—Omigosh.
Everything showed. She might as well have been naked. Yet she wanted to be sexy and seductive, and—gulp—she was. Or at least her body was, but her hair wasn’t right, and when she settled the matching Santa Claus cap on her head, it definitely didn’t help.
Usually, Beth wore her hair straight and pushed back behind her ears, but that wasn’t the right style for the temptress in the mirror. Tonight, when Teresa Boggs had been singing her solo at the courthouse, Beth had noticed that Teresa’s hair was tousled, wild and unfettered.
For the first time, Beth considered how she might get the same effect, short of combing her hair with an eggbeater. Tentatively, she poked her fingers through her hair to her scalp, then whisked them around. Liking t
he result, she did it again. Her reflection convinced her that she was now fit for seduction.
In a moment of misgiving, she reminded herself that she could forget about this ridiculous teddy and Tom would be none the wiser. She could slip into the plain blue silk kimono that she kept in the back of her closet and slink out into the hall. Tom would turn to her, register surprise, and then—but no. She’d gone too far to back out.
She lit a single candle on her dresser, and then, feeling self-conscious, she opened her bedroom door and walked slowly to the arch between the foyer and the living room.
“Merry Christmas,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “I, um, thought you might like a teddy bare.”
Tom had been rocking back on his heels as he studied her heart collection. When he heard her voice, he whirled around. His eyes grew enormous as a slow appreciative smile spread across his face.
“I always did like teddy bears,” he said. Very carefully, he set his glass down on the coffee table and walked to where she stood. “I’ve never seen you more beautiful,” he said, and then, making this feel like a homecoming more than a seduction, he folded her in his arms.
She lifted her lips to his, and they kissed long and passionately. Tom’s lips were warm and firm, and they stirred a response from the depths of her soul. He released her, raised her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. There was no need for words between them; all had been said that needed saying. She willed herself to remember these moments forever as he swept her into his arms, carried her into the bedroom and kicked the door closed behind them.
Tenderly and reverently, he laid her on the bed. He peeled away his clothes, and she was fascinated to watch him emerging from pants and shirt and socks and underwear. He was a magnificent specimen of a man, his sun-bronzed skin shimmering in the candlelight. She opened her arms to him and drew him down beside her.
He stared at her in the candlelight. “I’m crazy about you, Beth McCormick,” he said unevenly. “Crazy for you and this—this wonderful Christmas present.”
Breakfast With Santa Page 10
