Guarding Christmas

by Jenny Schwartz

  A sharp stab of desire warned her of the danger of that sort of thinking. Lust had a way of fogging the issue so you didn’t see the huge risk you were taking.

  She was starting to believe his behavior was realistic. A handful of hours and she was falling for his talk of a relationship.

  “Crazy.” She moved away from the window. She and Gray hadn’t exchanged more than casual conversation in four years. Yet she’d fallen into his kiss like a long-term lover.

  Despite her doubts, a slow smile started. Christmas dinner this year would be interesting.

  Yvie didn’t have to wait till Christmas dinner to see Gray. When she walked out of her apartment block early the next morning, he was waiting in his pick-up. He got out as she walked down the front steps.

  She couldn’t help her smile or the ridiculous lightness of her heart. “What did you do, memorize my roster?”

  “Yes.” He came close, bent and kissed her briefly. Briefly but with intent. Every touch re-affirmed a bond between them. “I’ll collect you after your shift, too.”

  She took the chance as she walked around to the passenger door to remind herself of commonsense.

  “You can’t rush me,” she said as she buckled her seatbelt.

  “What else can I do? Yesterday, I tripped on my tongue and told you how much I want you. I can’t—won’t—take that back, and with it hanging in the air between us, there’s no going slow.”

  “It would be safer if we tried. Slow is good. You need to stop and think. I’m not the girl you knew four years ago. When you walked away at Sam’s wedding, I grew up. It took a while, but that moment was the catalyst. I was—am—spoiled, Gray. Not in the way other people might think with Dad and Mom having so much money. It’s that they and the boys always looked out for me. They cotton-wooled the world. I didn’t have to skin my knees on hard truths—until I wove dreams around you, and you walked away.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said tensely.

  “I don’t need your apology. I don’t think I even deserve one. My dreams were my problem. But I realized then that I had to break out of a cocoon of complacency. Life doesn’t give us everything we want. I had to work out what I really wanted and fight for it.”

  There was a long beat of silence as she dealt with the rawness of being so honest.

  “You didn’t fight for me,” Gray said finally.

  “If you’d seen your expression at the wedding, you’d understand. You made it clear I wasn’t what you wanted, not that way.”

  “And now? Now that you know I do want you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  When Gray collected Yvie at lunchtime—she’d had a morning shift—he offered to show her his house. “I’ll wait in the pick-up if you want to change out of your uniform first.”

  “Thanks.” Her curiosity was too strong to resist the lure of seeing the house he’d bought—bought for her. It boggled the mind.

  She changed swiftly into jeans and a warm red sweater and took the stairs back down, hurrying out to Gray’s car. If she took too long, commonsense might lock her up in her apartment. Visiting his house definitely wasn’t slowing things down.

  But the house was beautiful. Sure, it needed work. The gutters needed fixing. Everything needed painting. The windows were dull with grime and the garden was a wilderness.

  “You’ve room for a swing chair on the front porch.”

  He laughed. “You like it, then?”

  “Of course.” She scrambled out of the pick-up, eager to see the inside.

  The bones of the house were as welcoming as she’d suspected. While Gray pointed out battered walls and scarred floors, she saw the generously sized rooms, molded ceilings and fireplaces. “When they’re restored they’ll look gorgeous.” She ran a hand along a dusty mantelpiece.

  “There are four of them.” He radiated pride of ownership. “The downside is that both bathrooms need renovating and the kitchen…” He pushed open a door.

  “Oops.” She took in the horrors of the large kitchen. The space was good, but it was a disaster.

  “Someone redid it in the ’eighties.”

  “You should sue them.” The countertops were lime green laminate and the floors a strange orange vinyl. One fake pine cupboard door hung askew. “But done up properly, it will be a lovely country kitchen. Gray, you are lucky. The house has so many possibilities.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He hugged her from behind, his arms wrapping beneath her breasts. “I’m going to rip out the cupboards and open things up. An island counter here. A double sink beneath the window.”

  The warmth of him surrounding her was a serious distraction. Her brain wandered off as he spoke, till he directed her towards the door.

  “We’ll eat in the living room.”

  Although bare, it was the cleanest room and the lightest, facing south. A fire was laid in the fireplace. Gray knelt and put a match to it. In a couple of minutes he’d coaxed it into a blaze. “If you watch that, I’ll get the food.”

  Yvie fed kindling to the flames, not because they needed the extra fuel—Gray was an excellent fire starter—but for the fun of it. “I love a real fire,” she said as he returned.

  “I remember.”

  Their eyes met and held. How many discussions had they had in front of her parents’ fireplace?

  She straightened up. “Can I help with anything?”

  “It’s all under control.”

  The furniture in the living room was minimal. A sofa and a folding table, two chairs, a television on another folding table. But Gray had prepared carefully for her visit. There was a loaf of fresh bread, butter, two types of cheese, ham, salami, smoked salmon.

  “It all looks delicious.”

  She was accustomed to Gray in control. The hint of tentativeness in his manner ensnared her. He wanted to impress her. And everything in the house spoke of his determination to build a future.

  The stupid table had a wonky leg that rocked everything as soon as you moved, the windows lacked curtains and—despite the fire—the room was cold, but none of it mattered. Yvie was here, with him. Gray watched her layer cheese and ham on a slice of bread and take a bite.

  She glanced up, caught him watching and smiled, just a crinkle of the eyes. It was an intimate smile, the sort of relaxed communication good friends shared. It simply appreciated sharing the moment.

  “You know, you never told me about your childhood,” Yvie said.

  He decided he didn’t want a third sandwich after all.

  “Did you grow up in a house like this one, with a big yard and everything?”

  “Not exactly.” He disliked sharing his past with people. It was an ordinary enough story, just pathetic. He’d moved on, made something of himself. But this was Yvie. If he wanted to build a future with her, then she had a right to know his past. He gulped some coffee. “I think I told you once my parents divorced?”

  “Divorced and remarried.” She nodded. “You’ve got a half-brother and sisters. How many was it? Four?”

  “Five. Dad married a third time. Divorced a third time, too.”

  Her eyes widened and she sat back in her chair. “That bothers you.”

  “I’m not like him. When I make a commitment, I keep it.”

  She pushed away her sandwich and picked up her mug of coffee, cradling it between her hands. “How old were you when they divorced?”

  “Three. I don’t remember them being together. Then again, I don’t really have to. Any time they met, exchanging custody of me, they fought. That’s how they were together. There’s only one thing they ever agreed on.”

  “Yeah?”

  “That they married too young. They were nineteen.”

  “Ah.” She looked away from him, studying the flames. “So when you left me at Sam’s wedding, you thought I was too young.”

  “Too young. Too nice for me. You grew up in a great family. Me, I didn’t know if I could handle that sort of commitment.”

  “But now you t
hink you can.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyhow. “I know who I am, now. What I want, what I’ll do to keep it. I didn’t grow up in an old house like this one. I grew up in new developments, shuffling between Mom and Dad and their new families.”

  “And the army wasn’t any more stable,” she said quietly. “This will be your first real home.”

  “Yes.” She understood. He looked for pity in her eyes, and didn’t find it. Some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t told her his story, ordinary as it was, to elicit pity. “Come here.” He drew her out of her chair to stand in front of the fire with him.

  Yvie went willingly into Gray’s embrace. She was shaken by what he’d revealed. Not so much the story—sadly, neglected unwanted children weren’t rare—but by the fact he’d trusted her with his past and his vulnerability. She snuggled closer.

  As irresistibly sexy as she found him, this sort of intimacy had its own power. She breathed in the scent of him and felt his heartbeat through her body. His warmth and strength became her whole world, a world of promise.

  Finally he sighed and eased her away. He smiled down at her. “I’d hoped to make out in front of the fire.”

  “Just make out?” she teased.

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  She blinked. “If this is about me being a nice girl…”

  He shushed her with a finger to her lips. “It’s not—though you are. I don’t want to rush things, and since I have to get you home, making out was about all I could hope for.” He grinned. “And I did hope.”

  She blushed, remembering last night.

  “I’ll grab your coat.” He released her with a final caress along her spine.

  The fire had burned down. He put it out completely.

  She grimaced at the wash of sooty water.

  “It’ll clean up. Leave the plates. I’ll clean that up, too.” He kissed her quickly, almost absently and hustled her into the pick-up.

  “What’s the rush?”

  He hesitated a moment. “I have an appointment.” He slammed shut the passenger door.

  She recognized a brick wall when she hit one. But ouch it hurt, all the more for the closeness they’d just shared.

  His silence on the drive was like a second slap. She thought of and discarded a dozen conversation starters.

  Perhaps he regretted talking about his childhood.

  She was relieved to see her apartment block. “Thanks for lunch.” She unbuckled her seatbelt.

  “I’ll phone you, tonight,” he said, suddenly urgent. It was as if he’d come back from a million miles away.

  Her heart rebounded. She smiled. “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” He returned her smile, leaned toward her and kissed her. “No matter how late, I’ll call.”

  The light kiss tingled on her lips as she waited for the elevator. With the right man, every kiss was magic. Singing under her breath, knowing she was grinning goofily, she stepped out at her floor. At her door, she heard her phone ringing. She twisted the key in the lock—hurry, hurry—then slammed the door behind her.

  “Ouch.” She caught her knee against a packing box. “Hello?”

  “Yvie, what the heck do you think you’re doing?”

  Chapter Five

  “Dad?” Yvie leaned against the wall. “What do you mean, what the heck am I doing?” But she was stalling. She had a horrible feeling she knew what he meant.

  “I’m talking about you packing up and leaving. How do you think I felt to find out from—What the heck? Yvie, I have to go. Something’s come up. Excitable fools everywhere at Christmas. But you, miss, are going to explain yourself.” He hung up.

  She replaced the phone on its hook and slid down the wall. Deep inside, the first shivers started.

  She wasn’t scared of her dad. That wasn’t what had started these shivers. She drew her knees up and hugged her arms around them as her dreams shattered.

  How had her dad discovered her plans? How do you think I felt to find out from— From whom?

  Her dad didn’t know her publisher or her doctoral advisor, and she’d sold her car privately.

  “Face it,” she said harshly into the silence of her apartment.

  Gray had hurried her home for an “appointment”, one he wouldn’t talk about. He disapproved of her travelling alone around New England. He wanted her to be here, where he’d set up house. He was an army-trained strategist, and he knew her dad and how protective he was. Gray would probably say he’d informed her dad for her “own good”.

  “Like hell.” She stood up and disconnected her phone, searched for her cell and switched it off, too.

  Whatever emergency her dad was dealing with, she would bet it’d keep him occupied till too late to call around and argue with her. Christmas was when all the crazies came out—and the security business had to handle them. Her dad would save the interrogation for Christmas dinner.

  In turning off the phones, the person she was avoiding was Gray.

  This was her own fault.

  She moved restlessly around the living room.

  Despite the lesson he’d taught her four years ago, she’d wanted to trust him. If she’d truly not cared about Gray, she’d have kept him out of her apartment when he first drove her home. He wouldn’t have seen the packing boxes and she wouldn’t have told him of her plans. She wouldn’t have trusted him with her dreams.

  Aargh. You couldn’t scream in frustration in an apartment—not without alarming the neighbors.

  Yvie stripped off her clothes, pulled on exercise gear and went down to the basement to the shared gym. The punching bag and treadmill could deal with her anger. Anger was healthy.

  She wasn’t about to admit that no gym equipment in the world could handle heartbreak.

  “I’m not talking to you.” Yvie stared straight forward as Gray met her outside the apartment block in the morning. She’d half expected him to have the nerve to show up last night.

  “Is that why you didn’t answer your phone last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Because I’m rushing you? Did you get spooked realizing how serious I am?”

  “You could say that.” If by serious he meant he was willing to use any and all tactics against her. If by serious he meant he was willing to betray her trust.

  “Then we’ll slow things down. You set the pace.”

  She cast him a look of scorn.

  He grabbed her arm and her own momentum whirled her around to face him. “I’m willing to put up with a lot, but not the silent treatment and nasty looks.” The harshness left his face and voice. “Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.”

  Her lower lip wobbled and she pressed her lips sternly together. The hypocrite actually sounded concerned and caring.

  “At least get in the car so I can drive you to work.”

  She shook her head, and when she pulled away, he let her. The bus arrived at the stop when she did. She plodded on and found a seat, but her treacherous subconscious chose a seat at the window where she could see Gray.

  He stood watching the bus, watching her.

  The distance was too great to read his expression, but the determination of his stance was evident. She looked down at her hands. She had to be determined, too, for her own good.

  It was a relief to dive into the busy-ness of work. As the mall packed with people, Yvie lost herself in re-uniting kids with parents, answering questions and, less positively, nabbing two thieves. Looking at the elderly thief’s shabby coat and air of desperation, her heart twisted. She had a lot to be thankful for.

  The evacuation alarm came out of nowhere. Her radio crackled into urgent life. “Fire in the south wing. Explosions in camping store. Keep everyone calm, but get them out.”

  It was a near impossible order. People were here to SHOP and weren’t about to let an alarm stop them. “It’s just a practice drill,” they said.

  “No, ma’am. It’s not. If you’ll move to the exit near the r
estrooms, to the left as you exit the store…”

  Barry, an older guard, came to help. “I was early for my shift.” He always was. Yvie guessed he got lonely, home alone. He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Move, folks! The fire’s real.”

  “They’ll panic,” she objected.

  “Not yet. Trust me. You want them out before they smell the smoke. Then they’ll panic.”

  She redoubled her efforts to keep people calm, but moving. They actually began cooperating, albeit with grumbles and the occasional hysterical shriek, mostly from toddlers separated from toys or taken out of the line to see Santa.

  “A good crowd,” Barry said as they rounded up the last stragglers. “More sense than most of them.”

  Yvie sniffed the air. She could smell smoke.

  “Ya know, it was an idiot in the camping store. Reckoned he’d test a stove. Don’t know how he managed it. The dang thing exploded. Set off a chain reaction.”

  Ex-cops. Yvie swore they could snatch information out of thin air. “I think that’s everyone.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much,” Barry said awkwardly. “He’ll be okay.”

  “Who?” Mentally she ran through the drill, checking they hadn’t missed anything.

  “Gray. He asked where the nearest camping store was. Said he wanted to buy a traveler’s cooking set.”

  Her heart jolted to a stop. “Gray was in the camping store?”

  “I reckon as he must have been. But he’s the tough sort. He’ll be fine.”

  She couldn’t even contact him. Her phone was back in the locker room. “He’s the kind that would go back to help. He could be hurt.”

  Barry caught her shoulder. “Yvie, you have to do your job.”

  “What?” She stared at him.

  “I shouldn’t have told you. My fault. But you have your job to do, here. Let Gray look out for himself.”

  I can’t. But she had to. This was about people’s lives, people depending on her. This was duty. How they hell did Gray and her brothers handle it?