He found another pair—ones that went on a lot easier—and pulled them up as he fumbled in his nightstand for his gun. Then he was out in the hall and down the stairs. Gus was in the living room, by the Christmas tree.
“You’d better not just be barking at the tree,” Mike muttered, and carefully checked out the room. No sign of anything, but the faint smell of peppermint was in the air. A burglar with a fresh-breath fetish?
He went over to the front doors, but they were still securely closed. So were all the windows in the dining room, and the kitchen and the kitchen door. There wasn’t a single thing that looked amiss.
“This was fun,” he told Gus. “What was it—a mouse? A peppermint-stealing mouse?”
But Gus showed no guilt and trotted over to the back door to be let out. “Probably should check around outside, too,” Mike agreed, and he slipped into his boots and coat. His gloves were nowhere to be found.
“Surprise, surprise,” he muttered. He should just buy the cat a pair of her own.
Once outside, Gus ambled over toward the garage, sniffing along the snow. The sun wasn’t due to come up for another couple of hours, but the snow made it bright enough to see easily. Mike stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, hunched his shoulders and walked slowly around the house. No sign of anything wrong. Another false alarm.
He walked back along the driveway, the snow crunching and squeaking beneath his booted feet. It was cold, damn cold. Probably down close to zero.
Normally Mike enjoyed this predawn time of day, especially in the winter, when everything was so white and quiet you could hear a sparrow sneeze in the park three miles down the road. The air had a pleasant crinkle to it, like Christmas wrapping paper.
Mike stopped and shook his head. A pleasant crinkle? Like Christmas wrapping paper? Another few days and Casey would have him singing carols at that big shopping mall over in St. Joseph’s.
“Oh, man,” he muttered. Things had been wonderful last night. Unfortunately, they’d gone too far. Now what was he going to do? “Gus.” The first thing he needed to do was get in out of this cold. “Come on, boy. Let’s get back in.”
But his dog ignored him. Gus had been doing a lot of that lately. Maybe Mike should wake Casey up so she could get the damn dog to come in. He seemed to do whatever she wanted. “Come on, Gus,” he snapped.
His dog continued to ignore him. Just what he needed. Mike jammed his fists still farther into his pockets.
No, he wasn’t going to wake Casey up. Hell, he’d let himself freeze to death before he did that. She’d wake up soon enough the way it was, and he still hadn’t put things together in his mind.
Events had gone astray and he needed to make sense out of them. Figure out a way to make their life as normal as possible for as long as Casey was going to be here. It would be best for all if she didn’t stay, but she was in danger. And Mike couldn’t exactly go to his great-aunt and say that he’d had sex with her biographer and could she please find the woman someplace else safe to live.
“Gus!” Mike stamped his feet, trying to get some feeling back into them. Damn, it was cold. He stepped off the drive into the deeper snow alongside the garage.
The feeling quickly returned to his feet—the feeling of cold, powdery snow melting on the inside of his boots. “Gus, come on,” he called, as he tramped farther into the backyard. “Get in the house.”
This time Gus listened and hurried in once the door was open. Mike shed his boots and jacket, then lingered indecisively in the kitchen. He didn’t need to get up for work for another hour. Should he go back to bed, spend one more hour lying in Casey’s warmth, or just stay down here and not run the risk of waking her up?
Even before he made a decision, his feet were taking him up the stairs. Gus was sprawled out on the bed in Mike’s spot. He thought of telling his dog to move, but only for a moment. There was no way he could sleep anymore, and it didn’t seem right to lie in Casey’s warmth when he still had no idea what he was going to do. After showering and getting dressed for work, he sank into the easy chair in the corner.
Mike didn’t know how long he sat there, staring over at Casey sleeping. Long enough for it to get light outside, but not long enough to have put things in order in his mind. And certainly not long enough to figure out what he was going to say to her.
Suddenly he was aware that her eyes were open and she was watching him.
“Hi,” she said softly. “What are you doing way over there?”
He shrugged and fought against the invitation in her voice. “I’ve been up for a while. Gus needed to go out.”
She looked over her shoulder at the dog, still sprawled out on the bed. “Looks like he came back.” The unasked question hung in the air: why didn’t you?
“I figured I’d get ready for work.”
“Oh. “ She glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “What time do you have to leave?”
“In about forty-five minutes.” Damn. Why hadn’t he lied, said he needed to leave now?
“Great. Enough time for me to take a quick bath and make us some breakfast.”
She climbed out of bed, bending down quickly to get her flannel shirt and slip it around her. He caught only fleeting glimpses of her smooth, soft skin. Enough to tantalize him with memories of last night and tease him with promises of tomorrow. His mouth went dry and he couldn’t have spoken to save his life.
“I seem to have scattered my stuff all over,” she said. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” Mike swallowed hard and turned his attention to the winter scene outside his bedroom window. He knew it was cold outside, but his heart felt even colder. The starkness of the black-and-white picture couldn’t even begin to match the melancholy in his heart.
“Are you sure?” she asked, sounding more and more uncertain with each and every word.
“Sure. Positive.” But he kept looking outside.
In a moment, he heard the bath water running and Gus whining at the bathroom door as he tried to get in. Fifteen minutes. That’s what it would take her to bathe and get dressed. He had fifteen minutes to figure out what to say.
“Boy,” Dubber exclaimed. “What’s with Mike? He sure was grumpy.”
“I think Gus got him up too early,” Casey said, as she put their breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. “And he said he’s not a morning person.”
“Since when?” Dubber asked. “He’s never been grumpy like this except when Darcy dumped him.”
Casey didn’t want to pursue that line of thinking. There were too many roadblocks that would get her into trouble. Though there really could be only one reason Mike had been so grumpy this morning. And that one reason was last night.
Was Mike regretting their lovemaking? Had he found her lacking in some way? Was he finding that his love for Darcy was still strong?
Whatever the reason, breakfast had been so deadly that Casey’d felt like hugging Dubber when he’d walked through the back door. Instead, she’d just made extra pancakes and fed the lad as Mike left for work.
“Got anything you need help with?” Dubber asked.
A million things, none of which she could discuss with an eleven-year-old boy. Casey straightened and closed the dishwasher door. “Don’t you have school?”
He shook his head. “Christmas vacation,” he said. “You’re still writing that book, huh?”
“Yes. And it’s a whole lot of work,” Casey said.
“Oh,” Dubber replied, nodding.
“Work that a writer has to do by herself.”
“Oh, I gotcha.” He nodded again. “I gotta go, anyway. Tiffany wants me to go Christmas shopping with her.”
“That could be fun,” Casey said.
“Yeah, right.” Dubber’s expression vacillated between disbelieving and thoughtful as he slipped on his coat and stocking cap. “I’ll drop by later and see how Mike is.”
“That would be nice,” Casey replied.
Once Dubber was gone, she went into the dining room to
work, but couldn’t seem to concentrate. Her cats followed her, jumping onto the table and lying on her papers, so at least she had an excuse why she couldn’t do anything. But the real excuse was that blond, six-foot-something lug that was driving Michigan State Police car number 9348.
How did he feel about last night? How did she feel?
It had been great. Wonderful. Not what she had planned. Did she regret it? No. It had been perfect. Mike had been perfect. She hadn’t been looking for involvement—and still wasn’t—but she wouldn’t change a second of it.
But Mike obviously didn’t share her opinion, and they needed to clear the air when he got home. She still had at least a month’s work here before the book was done. They couldn’t have a month’s worth of breakfasts like this morning’s.
The cats moved off her papers suddenly, streaking after something only they saw, and she got down to work. In spite of her impending talk with Mike, she got a lot done on the history. She found a whole stack of letters from Stella’s younger brother, Robert, the one she and Simon raised, which he must have written while he’d been away at school. From the neat penmanship of a teen commiserating on Stella’s miscarriage, to the more mature hand of a college student anxious to come home for Christmas, the letters proved to be a wealth of family information. That must have been Stella’s third miscarriage. How terrible for her, to be married to a man who loved another and unable to have a child of her own.
Casey was surprised when she heard Mike at the kitchen door. Surprised and suddenly a little panicky. It was almost five. Where had the day gone? She hurried into the other room before he had a chance to take his coat off or take Gus out.
“I thought we could go for a walk,” she told him.
“We?” he said.
“Yeah.” Casey smiled. “Gus, you and me. The three of us.”
He looked as though he wanted to refuse, but didn’t. She got her coat and followed him outside. Without a word, they started down the street. Mike had a leash for Gus, but didn’t put it on as the dog stayed close to them, romping in the snow and picking up a white layer of it on the top of his nose.
Casey walked silently by Mike’s side, not holding his hand though she desperately wanted to. Maybe it was a need to know that he hadn’t found her lacking. Or maybe it was just her racing heart needing his touch. When he hadn’t spoken after the first few blocks, she decided she’d better make the first move.
“We need to talk about last night,” she said.
“I know.” His voice was stiff, as if he’d placed a wall around himself. “Look, I’m sorry. Thing’s just happened and—”
She nodded. “I hadn’t planned it.”
He didn’t look her way. “No, it didn’t ‘just happen,’“ he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “That makes it sound like we had no responsibility for it. I knew what we were doing and—”
“Mike, we’re both adults.” She touched his arm lightly, trying to force his eyes to meet hers. This was harder than she’d expected. “We both knew what we were doing.”
“And about those condoms,” he continued as they crossed a street. “They’d been in the drawer for a while now. I didn’t just get them…” He looked at her a moment before his gaze skittered off again. “I mean I wasn’t planning on—”
“Mike,” she said softly. “It’s okay.”
He looked at her then. “I’m not the type of guy who’s always looking to get laid. I don’t want you to think that’s all it was.”
“I think I had too much wine,” she said, and dragged a mittened hand through the snow on the top rail of a fence. “And I know I acted goofy about the mistletoe…”
“No, it was nice,” he said. She could almost hear a smile in his voice. “Cute. And you made me look at those ornaments for the first time in years. I’d been almost afraid to before.”
They reached the end of the fence and she brushed her mitten off on her coat. “I can understand that. There are a lot of memories attached to them.”
“But memories can be good things,” he said. “Things to cherish, not run from.”
She took a deep breath, then jumped in headfirst. “Did last night make you think about Darcy?” she asked. “It’s okay if it did. It’d be only normal, I suppose. I just wondered.”
He stopped walking to stare at her. “Darcy? Why would it remind me of Darcy?”
Casey could feel her cheeks grow red—the curse of being a redhead. “Well, you know. You loved her and then we were making love.” Were they? “Or having sex.”
He just shook his head slowly. “I can honestly say Darcy never came into my mind last night.”
“I just thought maybe you were comparing…” No, that was coming out badly. “That you were wishing it was her.”
He took Casey’s hands in his, and even through her mittens, she felt warm. “I never wished it was anybody but you,” he said. “It was wonderful.”
Her cheeks got redder, if possible. “I thought so, too.”
“I’m sorry it happened,” he said. “But in another way, I’m not.”
“I’m not sorry at all,” she said. “And I don’t want us to stop being friends.”
“I don’t want to stop, either,” he replied.
“Deal then?”
“Sure.”
They sealed it with a kiss. Not a passionate one that would send steam out from under their coats to melt the nearby snow, but one that lasted long enough to leave them glassy-eyed and gasping not for air but for sanity. They pulled apart when Gus started pawing at them.
“I guess he wants to go home,” Mike said.
“That’s okay by me,” she replied. “It’s pretty cold out here.”
They turned around and went back to the house, holding hands. Yeah, maybe the weather was cold, but she sure wasn’t. Not when her heart was singing the way it was.
After dinner Mike sought refuge in the garage. He needed time to think and sort things out. They’d made love, and Casey was all right about it. She wasn’t mad or regretful or looking to tie him down. How did he really feel about it, though?
Casey found him there before he’d had time to answer any of his questions. “Boy, you’re getting this place put back together,” she said, her arms crossed and her hands tucked under her armpits from the cold. “Wouldn’t it be smarter to wait until summer to do this, though?”
“It’s not so bad out here.” Certainly not when she was here to steam up the room. His eyes wanted to watch her, to count the number of times she smiled at him, but he forced his attention back to soldering the new section of water pipe running along the garage ceiling.
She came closer, leaning against the ladder. Not directly filling his line of sight, but he could see her even if he closed his eyes.
“Where’s Gus?” she asked.
“The heat’s on up in the apartment,” he replied, indicating the room above them with his head. “He’s sacked out where it’s warm.”
“Smart dog.”
“More like lazy,” Mike muttered. She wasn’t affecting him much at all. He could—
”Boy.” She brushed off the dust and dirt that had fallen from the ceiling onto his leg. “You’re really mean to him.”
A fire exploded inside him. So much for not being affected. “I knew you’d take his side.” His voice sounded as strangled as his heart felt.
“Why not?” Casey replied. “Gus is a big sweetie pie.”
“And what am I?” Mike reached up to wipe off the pipe. It was a stupid question, a childish one, but it came out, anyway.
“You’re big, too.”
“Thanks.”
She leaned back against the ladder—and him—and laughed. It was suddenly steamy in here. Even in the cold of the unheated garage, he felt sweat on his brow.
“You know, it’s a little hard to work with you hanging on to me.”
Casey stepped back, leaning against the wall. “What are you doing, anyway?”
He hadn’t really wanted her to move,
but took advantage of her distance to breathe. “Replacing the section of water pipe that had frozen and burst.”
“Won’t that happen again?”
“No, not after I’m done with it.” He held up the thick cable that was lying on top of the ladder. “This is a heater cable. It puts out a low-grade heat. Enough to keep the pipe from freezing, especially since I’m going to insulate it next.”
She waited in silence while he climbed down and put his soldering equipment away. “Why are you doing all this?” she asked in a little voice of worry. “Are you going to kick me out of the house?”
He looked at her in surprise. Was she serious? Her green eyes weren’t dancing. “Of course not,” he said. “But there are a lot of students from the college that want a place off campus. If I fix the place up and clean it, I shouldn’t have any trouble renting it.”
“Have you talked to Myrna about this?”
Mike put the last of the equipment away. “She said to do what I wanted. She doesn’t care.”
“About the house or about renting the apartment?”
He went back up the ladder to wrap the heating cable around the pipe. Casey came over to hold the end as he wrapped. “She doesn’t care if I rent the apartment, but she’s hyper about the house. She’s got a thing about how her family built it and nobody outside of the family has ever owned it.”
Casey didn’t reply to that as he climbed back down the ladder. He didn’t know whether it was his memory or just the force of her body, but he could see her womanly shape even in the bulky down coat she was wearing. Or maybe it was just those green eyes. More woman than a man deserved.
He definitely needed to get his mind onto something else. A garage in the winter was definitely not a place for love and romance. “By next week, I should be able to start cleaning up upstairs.”
“I can help.”
He moved the ladder about eight feet and climbed back up. “You don’t have to. Mostly I’ll just be hauling trash at first.”
Christmas Magic Page 15
