by Mollie Molay
The babel of voices grew louder as honeymooners fell into the spirit of the spontaneous party. Someone turned up the volume on a portable radio. Christmas carols filled the air. The inconvenience of the winter storm that delayed the tour’s departure was forgotten.
A happy groom thrust an open bottle of champagne at Luke. “Here, have a drink!”
“No, thanks, later maybe,” Luke smiled halfheartedly as he headed for a quieter spot. At the rate things were going, he didn’t stand a prayer of fading into the background. But his plans hadn’t changed. He was going to stay out of sight, and come hell or high water, tomorrow was going to be the start of his new life.
“Hey, wait a minute! Is it legal to carry liquor in the terminal?” someone questioned.
“Carry it, yes,” a voice answered. “But I heard you can only drink liquor at bars. But what the hell, who’s going to care?”
Luke glanced at the commotion surrounding them. “The guy’s right,” he told Arden. “Legal or not, I don’t think anyone’s going to be able to stop the party. Not tonight. Airport Security is bound to be too busy with bigger problems tonight to bother with something like this.”
He winced at a particularly loud shout in his ear. “With the way my luck is going tonight, I’d be the one to go to jail if I so much as lifted a glass with liquor in it.”
“Can we dance, too?” Arden asked wistfully as the music started and several couples started to dance. She cradled a bottle of champagne someone had given her and looked up into his wary dark eyes. “It might help pass the time. Anyway, I hear it’s relaxing.”
Relax when he was surrounded by any number of law officers waiting for him to take a misstep? Or an ex-con or two trying to get even with him? How little this woman knew about him! And, as far as he was concerned, he intended to keep it that way.
On the other hand, there was Arden to consider. She’d been through a lot and deserved any respite the night could bring.
He gazed down at her. “Are you sure you want to dance?” he asked, waving back a happy party goer and a fresh shower of mistletoe.
“Yes. I’m just trying to fit in with the crowd,” she answered. “We are supposed to be honeymooners, aren’t we?”
Luke shook off another celebrant before he turned back to Arden. “Just don’t get carried away, Mrs. McCauley, this isn’t real,” he said, glancing at the wistful expression on her face. “We’re only going to be married long enough to get you to Cancún. Anyway,” he added, looking around at the tour group couples who were getting deeper into the spirit of the party, “I don’t think you’ll want me to ask you to dance if you stop to think about it.”
Arden took two seconds to decide there was nothing to think about. Margo had secretly taught her to dance, and she’d dreamed of dancing with a man like Luke for a long time. “Why not?”
“The briefcase will get in our way,” he explained. “And that bottle of champagne isn’t going to help, either.”
“I’ll manage,” Arden answered as the strains of “I’ll be Home for Christmas” filled the air. “If we don’t get into the spirit of things, everyone will wonder why. You don’t want that to happen, do you?” she asked in a tone that touched and surprised him.
“Arden,” he said, as he shook the briefcase so the chain rattled, “if I take you in my arms, I’ll have this damn thing bouncing against your backside.” He took a quick look over her shoulder at the clinging contour of her wedding dress and flushed. “Besides, the briefcase will be right out in the open for everyone to see. They’re bound to wonder what’s in it and what I’m doing with it. As for you, you’ll probably wind up more black-and-blue than ever.”
“I don’t mind. Colors fade. And, anyway, no one’s going to see the bruises but me,” Arden insisted, raising her arms to Luke, bottle and all. “If I don’t mind, neither should you. I’m sure everyone is too busy dancing to pay attention to us.”
“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed. He wasn’t going to bet on anyone not watching him, not after he’d already been questioned and probably would be again before the night was through.
He took in the growing revelry. If anyone in the tour group had noticed the briefcase, they were either too polite to comment on it or they were lost in a dream world of their own making.
“But I suggest you draw the line at drinking,” he added, pointedly glancing at the bottle of champagne. “From what you’ve told me about never having tasted liquor before, heaven only knows what you’d want to do if you started now.”
“Oh, I’ve actually tasted liquor before, Margo saw to that. I just haven’t done it often. For now, I just want to dance,” Arden said, moving dreamily in time to the music.
“Say, you haven’t been at the champagne already, have you?” Luke peered into her eyes. “Somehow, this doesn’t seem like you.”
“That’s the whole idea,” she agreed. “I’m not the old Arden Crandall anymore. That girl would never think of drinking and dancing in public.”
“Never?”
“Never. Not that I haven’t wanted to. But wanting and doing are two different things,” she added before she grinned happily. “Thank goodness those days are behind me. As for my having some champagne, I just might do that too, later.”
“Not if I can help it.” Luke muttered. “You’ll have to settle for a dance.”
It was becoming clear to him that the only way to satisfy the new Arden was to give in to the little things that meant a lot to her.
As “I’ll be Home for Christmas” tinkled out of the radio, he noticed the tears that appeared at the corners of Arden’s expressive eyes. She might be determined to start a new life, but memories of her old one were still obviously fresh.
Touched, he took her in his arms. He carefully settled the briefcase in the small of her back and slowly circled a two-by-four-inch square of the cement terminal floor in time to the music.
“So, tell me, how do you like the road to independence so far?” he asked to distract her, and himself, too. He was trying not to react to the way her nearness was affecting him. In spite of his determination to remain detached, his feelings for her were getting stronger. Thank God it was happening in an airport terminal surrounded by hundreds of strangers where he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“I like it fine,” Arden responded, her head nestled in Luke’s shoulder, her left hand clutched in his right. “The nicest part of it is that it’s only just begun.”
Luke felt a momentary sense of alarm. Was she referring to herself? Or did she think something permanent was possible between the two of them? No woman had been able to claim him as her own, and none ever would if he had anything to say about it. Still, it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore the slender, supple figure swaying so seductively in his arms.
Arden felt Luke’s warmth envelope her. How could she have ever thought she was cold? she wondered as she nestled closer. When his arms tightened around her, she murmured her pleasure. Being held in the embrace of this unknown, dark and perhaps dangerous man was her fantasy come to life.
Except, she reminded herself, it was only fantasy. She couldn’t let herself get carried away on her first night of freedom and by the first man she’d become attracted to. There was still a lot of living to do ahead of her.
She tried to ignore the briefcase swaying gently against her back. It was just a minor annoyance, she thought dreamily. Well worth a bruise or two to be held so close by the man who’d walked out of her dreams.
He might be a man she’d met for the first time tonight. A man who, in her fantasy, was danger and mystery personified. He might be a man she’d wished into existence, but his solid strength, was real.
He was also a man to whom she would say goodbye tomorrow. But, she thought with a smile, he was hers for now. And from the way he was holding her and lightly caressing the small of her back, he didn’t seem at all unhappy about dancing with her, after all.
The song on the radio changed to “White Christmas.�
� In the background, a lone guitarist delicately provided an accompaniment to voices softly singing the song that had become Christmas in everyone’s mind.
Briefly meeting Luke’s eyes, she could see he was deep in thought. Maybe he was remembering another white Christmas with someone he loved. Not a wife, surely. He didn’t seem to be the kind to be married and to have a family. Yet, what did she really know about him? So far he’d revealed very little of himself to her.
He appeared to be a man who was a loner, a man of mystery who kept his affairs to himself. A man not afraid of facing danger. But there was a look in his eye that told her he still had vulnerable human qualities and a capacity for tenderness.
Maybe that was the combination that drew her.
“Merry Christmas!” a reveler shouted as he threw sprigs of mistletoe into the air.
Luke caught a sprig and held it over Arden’s head. His gaze locked with hers. “Merry Christmas.”
He lowered his lips to hers. Before she could react, he kissed her. With a gentle pressure he kissed the lips that had fascinated him so, until he heard a small sigh of pleasure.
She was lost in the taste of his lips, the raspy feel of his unshaven skin as it brushed against her cheek, the male scent of him as he pulled her against him. Sensations she’d never experienced before shot through her and almost took her breath away. His strong arms, his kiss, his warm breath on her brow made her feel more wanted, safe, more cared for than she’d ever been in her adult life. And more like a desirable woman.
Suddenly she was grateful for the ice and snow that had kept them in the airport terminal; and grateful she’d listened to her heart instead of her head when she’d taken the chance and accepted his invitation to join him.
The sound of the dreamy, nostalgic Christmas music sent her thoughts wandering down sensuous paths Margo had hinted at and that she’d never dared to dwell on before. With a sigh of contentment, she nestled deeper into the hard, masculine arms that held her as if they would never let her go.
Luke cleared his throat at the sigh. Pretend wife or no, mistletoe or no, he had allowed Arden to come too close for comfort. It wasn’t fair to her, not when it had only been an impulse on his part that had brought her into his arms in the first place. An impulse he was bound to regret if he let the attraction between them mess up his clear thinking.
It wasn’t fair to her to hold her so close for another reason. This time more for her sake than his. There were angry men out there who had sworn to get even with him. And not even having Arden in his arms would stop them.
“Merry Christmas,” Luke repeated softly, before he reluctantly pulled away. He stood there for a long moment gazing down into her shining eyes and soft smile. This Arden Crandall was getting into his blood too soon and too fast. And for the life of him, he couldn’t seem to put the brakes on it. “Come on,” he said with a sigh, “let’s find a place to relax for a while.”
The last thing he needed was to start thinking of the woman in his arms as the wife in his arms.
Listening to his heart instead of listening to his head was becoming dangerous. At the rate he and Arden kept celebrating Christmas, kissing under mistletoe and giving in to the sounds and the mood of the season, he’d soon be in deep trouble for sure. If he kept this up, he’d probably wind up delivering precious cargo for someone else for another ten years instead of living high off the hog himself. If he didn’t wind up dead first.
“That’s about enough,” he said abruptly. Without waiting for her reply, he abruptly lowered his arms and made for the corner he and Arden had occupied. He’d worked too hard and waited too long for a lucky break to soften now. As intriguing as she might be, he wasn’t going to let Arden Crandall mess things up for him.
Bewildered by another of Luke’s abrupt mood changes, Arden struggled to pull herself together. She wasn’t sure of the paths her thoughts had been taking her, but one thing was clear: she’d better remember the husband-and-wife bit wasn’t real. She gazed after Luke, dark, handsome and mysterious. With an unintentional charisma that drew her in spite of herself. Maybe it was a good thing she would see the last of him tomorrow, she thought wistfully as she followed him to where they’d found each other.
“Damn,” Luke exclaimed, when he saw the empty space they’d left behind. “Will you look at that!”
“Look at what?” Arden asked looking around her. “I don’t see anything.”
“That’s the point. First, it was your luggage, now it’s mine! Someone’s made off with my overnight bag, and unless you gave it to someone to hold, your raincoat’s gone, too.”
Arden blinked, her dreamy mood shattered. Reality set in. Sure enough, the spot where they’d been sitting was empty. Luggage thieves had been busy while they’d been dancing.
She felt ashamed of the brief moments earlier that night when she’d first thought Luke might be an accomplice of the luggage thieves. Or maybe something even worse. Of course, she hadn’t actually believed he wasn’t on the up-and-up, she told herself, or she would never have joined him.
More to the point, she realized, as she studied an angry Luke, any brief suspicions she might have had about him had very little to do with the way she felt about him. She’d been so attracted to him she’d thrown caution to the winds, even though she’d known she was taking a chance.
“I don’t suppose I’ll need my raincoat where I’m going,” she finally answered. “As for your overnight bag, maybe you won’t need it, either,” she told him, trying to comfort him. “You did say you intended to go right back to New York on the return flight, didn’t you?”
He cast her a sharp look but didn’t answer.
“You folks have to stop using liquor on city property,” a stern voice spoke up over the sound of “Jingle Bells.” “It’s okay to party, but not if you’re drinking. There’s a law about having open bottles of booze in an airport terminal.”
Luke swung around to meet the sharp gaze of the same security officer who had earlier taken the report about Arden’s luggage. His heartbeat stepped up its pace. This guy was one of the last people he wanted to meet again.
“Officer, you’re just in time!” Arden told the guard eagerly. “My husband has just had his luggage stolen, too!”
“Husband? Are you sure about that?” The guard’s gaze swung from Arden’s bare wedding ring finger and back to Luke.
“Er…yes, he is,” Arden answered. A cold wave of apprehension swept over her. Why had she called Luke her husband? Why had she drawn more attention to them even after Luke had reminded her that attention was the last thing he wanted.
“Well, I don’t mind telling you that back a couple of hours ago it didn’t sound as if he was your husband. In fact, if I remember correctly, I heard you tell him to mind his own business!”
“That was just a lover’s quarrel,” Luke broke in. “My wife tends to overreact in moments of stress, don’t you, dear?” He gathered Arden under his arm. The briefcase hanging from his wrist swung right into Arden’s middle with a whooshing sound.
She caught her breath, steadied the briefcase against her stomach and gave Luke a tight smile.
“Some honeymoon you two are having,” the guard commented dryly. “With both of you already fighting and that briefcase getting in the way, I wouldn’t want to bet on how long your marriage is going to last!”
“Long enough,” Luke answered. He gave Arden a warning squeeze.
He should have known better than to accept the cockamamie briefcase delivery job that branded him an untrustworthy character. Just as he should have known better than to hook up with Arden. He’d been too weak to pass up either temptation.
“Want to make a report?” the guard asked.
In a growing list of possible ways to identify him and connect him and the briefcase in everyone’s mind, the last thing Luke wanted now was to file a report. Especially since he knew that his name and description were probably already being investigated right now because of the gun he’d declared.
“Truthfully, I didn’t have many things of value in the bag,” Luke explained, “Shaving gear, a change of underwear and a fresh shirt.” When the guard’s brow rose in a question, Luke hurried to add, “And a couple pairs of swimming trunks. Considering where we were going, I was traveling light.”
“I’ll say,” the guard said skeptically. “Somehow, I don’t envy you two one bit. You’re sure you don’t want to file a report?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t worry about it. I’ll do fine. In fact,” Luke said as he glanced at Arden, “this will give us a reason to do some shopping in Cancún. I’m sure my wife is looking forward to it.”
He’d intended to discard his suit, overcoat, gloves and scarf at the earliest opportunity, anyway, and take on a new identity, clothing included. Where he planned on going, the sun would always shine, the moon would set on crystal-clear waters, and English wouldn’t be the language of choice. But, he thought fiercely, it definitely wasn’t going to be anywhere south of the border where Arden might be. She spelled trouble with a capital T.
“Okay, if you say so. But remember, all of you,” the security guard’s voice rose to a crescendo as he pointedly looked at the bottle of champagne clutched in Arden’s hand, “No more drinking on airport property unless it’s in a bar!”
Luke waited until the guard was out of sight.
“Come on, we’ve got some shopping to do!”
“I thought we were going to shop in Cancún,” Arden answered, puzzled at another of Luke’s mercurial mood changes. “I’m not sure any of the gift shops are open this late.”
“Take it from me,” he said dryly, urging her along. “No concession is going to close when there are thousands of captive shoppers around. And especially since most of us have nothing else to do.”
“Okay,” Arden agreed, stepping up her pace. “But what kind of shopping did you have in mind?”
“You’ll see,” he answered, glancing into well-lit gift shops. At the third shop, he came to a stop in front of a vending machine. “This one ought to do.”
