Winter Dreams

by Robyn Neeley

  “You could have called to tell me that before I came over.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

  Suddenly, he was crouched beside her, grabbing her hand before she got her shoe buckled. “But then you might not have come over at all.”

  Chapter 5

  Lifting her head, she met his gaze. She wasted time and gas getting to an unpaid babysitting job and he sat there, his gray eyes looking downright amused. Anger bubbled inside her, but she bit her tongue. There was no use making an enemy of him.

  He guided her to a standing position. “I guess I wasn’t very clear the other day.”

  She arched her eyebrow quizzically, and crossed her arms over her chest, letting her impatient look speak for her.

  “Eloise is having dinner with her grandparents and sleeping over before their annual breakfast with Santa. You assumed I asked you over to watch her, when really I wanted your company.”

  “It was a reasonable assumption, especially since last time you let me know you might have needs, but you’re not exactly open to filling them.”

  “Ouch. I deserved that.”

  She tried reading his face, wondering what sort of game he played. Last week, he shut her out, this week he teased her, promising to finish what they started last week. He gave her a sheepish half smile. The dimple did her in. She would stay.

  She would stay in spite of knowing he could bring her a world of hurt. He loved someone else. Catherine had been his star; Penelope was the stand in, not even the understudy, just a convenient, willing substitute.

  He stared expectantly at her, apparently waiting for her answer. She sighed. Tonight, they were two lonely people seeking comfort and warmth. As much as she liked the idea of pursuing something more, she needed to keep some distance between them, emotionally if not physically.

  “If I stay, I need something from you.”

  He stepped closer. The peppery, spicy scent of his aftershave surrounded her, inflaming her. Adrenaline surged through her body, every nerve anticipating his lips on hers. They stood inches apart, but not touching.

  “What?”

  The rasp in his voice suggested she wasn’t the only one affected by their proximity. She spoke quickly, fearing if she didn’t get the words out in one breath, she’d do something foolish like nuzzle his neck or tug up his shirt and touch his back.

  “I want to be long gone before Eloise is due to arrive home. You and I may be grown up and know what we’re doing tonight, but she is a child. It’ll be hard enough saying goodbye to her when I land a new job somewhere out of town, but I’ll depart as her friend and teacher. I don’t want her to get her hopes up that I’ll be some sort of mother figure in her life. If she sees us together, she might think that. I refuse to hurt her in that way.”

  He considered her words, his eyes going blank as he accessed recesses of his mind. He seemed to be struggling to find an answer. Her lungs pressed heavily in her ribcage and heart. It was like being on an audition and waiting for the choreographer to either announce her number or send her packing in silence.

  He looked back at her, drawing in his breath. On the exhale, he whispered, “Agreed,” before chastely kissing her cheek. The look he gave her as he pulled away was anything but chaste. Fire ran through her body.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but instead, he dropped to his knees and tapped on her boots. “You won’t need these.”

  “I guess not.” She bent forward to undo the buckles, but he stopped her, placing his hand on her hip.

  “Allow me.”

  Surprised by his request, she complied as he gently pulled off each boot and placed them neatly onto the boot tray by the door. During her career, she’d had a few quick costume changes where dressers helped her strip out of one costume and throw on another in a matter of seconds. She knew when to hold still and when to move to help them do their job. With Carson, it was tantalizingly different. He used light pressure to hold her leg and did his work smoothly and patiently. His touch aroused her, showing his potential as a lover, but subtly. She touched his shoulder with her fingertips, certain her legs lacked the strength to hold her upright. Silently, he stood and stepped back giving her that lopsided grin once more.

  “Thank you.”

  She matched his gaze and cocked her head to the left, the corners of her mouth tugging slightly upward. Carson left her rattled, in a good way. She sensed he wanted to play it slow. And after last week, he needed to take the lead in whatever might happen between the two of them. Even though he might stop at any point, leaving her frustrated, she looked forward to it. She wondered if and how he would continue his seduction dance. She sensed this would be more of a tango than the quick and dirty grind preferred by her few past lovers. She longed to learn some new moves. With him.

  • • •

  He scanned her body head to toe and back, struck yet again by her easy beauty. Costume jewelry barrettes pulled back her bouncy curls enough to keep them out of her eyes. Her clothes fit like a glove, showing soft curves, the rise and fall of her chest, and her long legs. Part of him wanted to kiss her, to savor that taste he’d thought of so much this past week. The one that made him want to see her again even though he knew he shouldn’t. He wanted to trace his fingers along her heart shaped face, pull her close, and feel those long eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.

  In spite of the strength of her physical pull on him, he needed to know more about her. His sole one night stand had left him empty. He couldn’t risk his heart or hers. He couldn’t do that to her. Already, she meant more to him than that and he needed to know why she mattered so much. And he needed to discover why without Eloise and her unabashed admiration present.

  Unfortunately, rational thought eluded him when he looked at Penelope. Even now, he was forgetting something important. He glanced away, hoping to break the powerful spell she cast on him.

  “I’ve got to check on dinner.”

  “Is that what smells so delicious? What is it?”

  “Coq au Vin. Care to join me in the kitchen?”

  He indicated she should sit at the dark marble countertop attached to the work island. She accepted the generous glass of Cabernet Franc he proffered. She cradled the glass, leaning forward to watch him chop vegetables once she realized he would not accept her help.

  “This is a lot more elaborate than grilled cheese. When did you learn to cook?”

  “I grew tired of takeout. Neither Catherine nor I cooked when we got married. She worked long hours, and with my med school and residency, it was easier to grab something on the go or microwave a frozen dinner. After Eloise was born, dining out became more challenging, so I decided to learn how to cook. Eloise tolerates my experiments so long as I let her choose dinner at least one night a week.” He wondered whether mentioning Catherine’s name was a faux pas, yet Penelope seemed undeterred.

  “You taught yourself? I’m impressed.”

  The way she looked at him, smiling, eyes peeking over her glass coquettishly, yet sincere, interfered with his chopping rhythm. He didn’t mind. He stopped to look at her. He grew aware of a warmth on his cheeks. Her compliment was undeserved since the only thing she’d tasted that he cooked was a grilled cheese and tomato soup from a can.

  “I watched a lot of cooking shows.”

  “You have the moves down and it smells heavenly. You don’t get aromas like that from the television.” She took a small sip from her glass. She seemed to enjoy it. He spent an hour trying to decide what wine to use.

  “I used to watch those shows sometimes on the road, but they just made me hungry for a home cooked meal so I quit. My mom’s been working with me these last few months, trying to refresh my cooking skills. Compared to her, I’m a disaster. Still, it’s nice crafting a meal, even if I am only throwing together a casserole or a salad. The hands-on work, the smells — it’s so much more sens
ual than picking something off a menu. This kitchen is so beautiful, by the way. It looks like a TV set or a magazine. Your whole house does.” Her hands fluttered, gracefully indicating their surroundings.

  “Do you really like it? I find it a bit dreary, actually. The furniture, cabinets, curtains, countertops, everything is so dark. Except for Eloise’s room, that is.”

  “Now that’s a blast of color!”

  The sound of Penelope’s laugh brought a smile to his face. “I don’t want the whole house bubblegum pink, but her room is certainly more cheerful than the rest of the house. We painted it together last summer. She made such a mess with the roller that I ended up getting new carpet in there, too.”

  “I bet she had fun, though. She loves that canopy over her bed. She said she feels like she’s in a fairy house. Oh, did she show you the fairy house we made last Friday?”

  He glanced up in surprise. “No.”

  “You can see it from the back door. I’ll show you.”

  Standing behind her, his body responded to her closeness and the smell of her skin. Her hair tickled his chin. “There it is. See the twigs sticking out of the snow? We scavenged materials in the backyard.”

  “Is this why the bathtub was so dirty?”

  “She did get a bit grimy collecting her building materials.” She twisted her neck to face him. “Sorry about the tub. I couldn’t find the cleaner and the paper towels only did so much. I’m surprised the fairy house is still upright.”

  He reached for her when she got a mischievous smile, but not in time. She opened the porch door and before he could ask what she was doing, she formed a couple snowballs.

  She shouted over her shoulder, “How’s your arm?”

  “Are you going to knock it down?”

  “Hopefully, although I don’t have great aim. I was the last picked in gym class. Did you know that fairies can be pretty clumsy in the snow? Even in good weather they have a tendency to knock down their houses and hope they get rebuilt. After she rebuilds it, the fairy leaves a present to show her gratitude.”

  “Great, more shopping.”

  “No, not at all. Fairies only leave things they find in nature. Flowers in the summer, pinecones, acorns, and pretty leaves at other times. I noticed some great looking icicles on your front porch. Fairies love sparkly things.” She studied the small house. “Eloise made a sturdy house. We used some rocks, but there are a lot of twigs on the roof.”

  Her first snowball fell short and to the left.

  “Oh well.” She looked at him and shrugged. “I had brothers. Mom probably made up the stuff about clumsy fairies so I wouldn’t pick a fight with them when they knocked the houses down.”

  “How many?”

  “Fairy houses?”

  “Brothers.”

  “Three. And one sister.”

  “And they didn’t teach you how to throw?”

  She shook her head.

  He scooped up snow from in front of the door and coached her on how to toss an underhand snowball to the gate on the deck. She beamed when she made contact. He couldn’t remember the last time he cut loose like this. Laughing, he asked “How serious are you about the fairy house? I don’t want to make Eloise too mad.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I hadn’t thought about upsetting her.”

  “Why don’t you try again, overhand this time.” He showed her how to hold her arm and tried to coach her when to release, but the ball landed about two feet in front of them. He brushed the snow off his hands and pulled her into his arms. “You’re right. Your aim is terrible.”

  “There’s a reason I didn’t take up softball. You, on the other hand, seem athletic.” Emboldened, she wrapped her fingers around his biceps and gave a gentle squeeze. “And strong.”

  He wanted to show off. “Let’s see if I can knock the pinecone off the house without destroying the whole thing.” He did. On the second try.

  “Impressive.”

  “I try to keep fit. After seeing how easily you lifted Eloise over the summer, my ego demands that I keep pace.” He tilted his head.

  “Ugh. If it looked easy, it’s only because I iced up my ribs beforehand and the whole time I reminded myself that I still had two Percocet tablets.”

  • • •

  The grimace on his face reminded Penelope that Carson was a doctor and probably not one to approve of the casual use of painkillers. The kitchen timer beeped. He excused himself to the kitchen, but she could see his troubled expression. She walked back to the counter and sat down again.

  She took a deep breath. She wanted to tell him everything — her fears, her dreams, and especially that she understood loneliness. She also wanted to tell him she would be his rebound girl of sorts, even if the two of them had no future. She’d start small.

  “When my flying harness broke during a performance back on June third, I ended up with broken ribs, a lacerated liver and a lot of pain.”

  “What was your treatment? Are you okay?”

  She assumed he asked from a professional standpoint since neither his voice nor face displayed concern.

  “Now I am. I don’t like rehashing the pain now that I’ve healed. I still have those same two Percocet tablets, by the way. I suffered through a lecture from my physical therapist instead of taking the pills. He was pretty annoyed with me, but I couldn’t help myself.” She paused. “You’ll have fun repairing the fairy house with Eloise. She has such a joyful spirit.”

  His expression softened. “Yes, she does.”

  “She inspires me. I know it sounds strange that a child could make you want to be better person, but I’m a performer. I’d never considered anything else. But teaching Eloise and the other girls has been more fun than I ever imagined. On stage, the audience rewarded me with applause at all the appropriate moments. The girls give me so much more. Their laughter, their energy, even their frustration and social relationships are fascinating, complex, and changing, creating rhythms and movement I never knew existed. If I didn’t need to eat, I’d teach them for free. When my career is over, I hope to return to teaching. Sorry, I’m babbling.”

  The words rushed out of her mouth before she gave them much thought. She blamed the wine and her growling stomach, but knew it was really her nerves, wanting to seem worthy of the man standing by the stove.

  “No, you’re not. You’re passionate about what you do.”

  The intensity in his gaze warmed her. “I do tend to throw myself in wholeheartedly.”

  She hoped she wouldn’t get her heart hurt by a man incapable of offering himself fully to her. She had enough of that. She would never forget the shame of learning her last lover had a wife back in England that he neglected to mention until the wife showed up on tour to surprise him. That was three years ago. She stayed away from relationships since then because she wanted to avoid heartbreak. No one seemed worth the risk — until now. Unfortunately, come January, when she left town to resume work, her heart would hurt for Carson. She began to second guess her decision to stay tonight.

  He crossed the room and cupped her face in his hands. His gray eyes darkened to storm clouds, but not in an angry way. They were like the longed for clouds moving in to break a lengthy dry spell. His touch was just as welcome, his fingers warm as he looked at her. He gazed at her so intently, her toes curled.

  “That’s one of the many things I admire about you.”

  He pressed his lips against hers, gently at first, then deepening. She gasped. Her mind grew dizzy but in the whirling she knew with absolute certainty that staying for dinner was a very good idea. She placed the glass on the countertop, wanting her hands free to touch the nape of his neck, and trace the line of his square jaw as they enjoyed each other’s mouths. But all too soon he pulled away.

  “Dinner’s ready.”

  He pulle
d her to a standing position, holding her hand as he guided her to the dining room. The large table was set for two, complete with a basket of dark bread and glasses of water. He pulled out her chair before lighting the candles.

  “You thought of everything.”

  “Not quite. I’ll be right back.”

  He’d created an intimate mood with the candles. Various glassware and mirrors reflected their flickering glow, adding to the room’s beauty. She imagined Carson and Catherine eating here night after night, her beautiful glossy brown hair loose around her shoulders and dressed in elegant clothes. She was going to develop an inferiority complex if she continued to compare herself to the popular, beautiful, privileged Catherine. She couldn’t compete with a memory, but could enjoy herself in the here and now. For one night, he wanted to share himself with her. She wanted to help ease his loneliness, even if hers would ultimately increase once she left town. She played with her necklace, absentmindedly, as she tried to avoid thinking about the future.

  He returned with two steaming servings of Coq au Vin and the bottle of wine tucked under his arm.

  “I hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  With the good food and easy flow of conversation, she couldn’t remember when she last enjoyed herself so much on a date, even if this wasn’t exactly a date. Their conversation began with the neutral territory on which they both considered themselves experts — dining out. But then he charmed her with tales of childhood mischief and how he decided to become a doctor, even though as a kid he was absolutely certain he would pilot a space plane.

  Not that she knew Catherine or her family very well, but she couldn’t imagine this Carson enjoying a family dinner with the serious minded Patterson family. Johnny invited her to dinner there one night; she suspected it was part of his rebellious phase. The conversation focused on achievement, grades received, prizes won and college plans. Far too stilted for her liking. Talking with Carson tonight was so easy. They lingered at the table long after they finished their meal.