The Shadows of Christmas Past

by Christine Feehan

  "Don't you dare."

  "I have to."

  "I said no. Very decisively." Maia pulled her head back to keep his lips from touching hers. She'd be lost if he kissed her with his sinful mouth. She was taking no chances.

  "You are a such a coward. You're running."

  "Like a rabbit," she confirmed.

  "You haven't asked me why I was in jail. Is that the reason you won't take me home with you?"

  His hands were making slow circles along her spine. His erection was pressed tightly against her stomach. She ached in places she didn't know could ache. "I haven't asked why because it isn't my business," she said, breathing a sigh of relief when the song ended. "I have to play."

  Cole let her slip out of his arms because if he held her any longer, he was going to throw her over his shoulder and take her out of there to any place he could have her to himself for a long, long time. He managed to make it back to his seat without breaking anything. He took a long pull on the beer. It was warm and did nothing to cool the fire racing through his veins.

  Cole watched her through half-closed eyes, already staking his claim on her, making certain the other men in the bar knew she belonged to him. No woman had ever gotten to him before. She seemed lost in her music, unaware of him when he was burning for her.

  His cell phone beeped, and, scowling, he glanced down to identify the caller. "What is it, Jase?" Cole demanded, his eyes on Maia. If she smiled one more time at the lunkhead in the front row, he was going to have to smash his beer bottle right over the man's head.

  For a moment there was silence, then a harsh, tearing sob. "I trusted you. You knew I cared about him. You knew Celtic High mattered to me."

  Cole went still. "What are you talking about, Jase? Calm down and tell me what's going on."

  "The bay. He's all torn up. What'd you do to him?"

  "I didn't do a damned thing to him," Cole bit the words out in anger before he could stop them. "I'll have the vet there in an hour." It was over an hour's drive to the ranch, but he could shave off minutes. He couldn't blame Jase for accusing him. The kid had been taught not to trust anyone, but it still hurt. Much worse than that, Cole couldn't help his own suspicions. He'd investigated the kid's past, looking for red flags, cruelty to animals, anything that might indicate the old man had passed on his sick genes, but he'd found nothing. Still, the doubt crept in.

  "He's in too much pain," Jase said. "He'll have to be put down. I can't do it. I tried, but I can't do it." He was sobbing openly. "He went through a fence and he's really torn up. There's wood sticking in his chest and stomach, splinters buried in his belly and legs. Some of the cuts are down to the bone. I can't put him down, Cole."

  "Listen to me, Jase. I'll be there in an hour with the vet. Get Al and the other hands to help you. Take Celtic High to the big barn where all the equipment is. The vet will need light to work on him, and that's the most sterile environment we have. Tell Al to keep that horse alive."

  "But, Cole," now Jase sounded like a young child seeking reassurance, "he's suffering."

  "I didn't do this, Jase. I wasn't even there."

  "I found your work glove in the snow by the fence." Jase sounded apologetic. "I don't know what I was thinking. I knew you went to town."

  "I'll be there in an hour," Cole repeated. "Get Al and stick close to him until I figure out what's going on."

  Maia watched Cole's face as he talked on the phone. He gave very little away with his expression, but something was wrong. She saw the way his hand tightened around the neck of the beer bottle. He'd been absently stroking it, almost seductively, and now he gripped it as if he wanted to throttle something. Cole abruptly broke the connection and shoved the cell phone into his pocket, stood up and looked directly at her.

  At once her heart began to accelerate, pounding in her chest. His gaze was cold, hard, and very direct. He began to walk toward her with long strides, a ruthless stamp on his features and purpose in every step. For the first time, she faltered in her playing, losing the rhythm that was so much a part of her. The band ground to a halt. There was a sudden silence in the bar.

  "Come on. I need you out at the ranch. Let's go." Cole's voice brooked no argument.

  Maia studied his harsh expression. He reached out and caught her arm, nearly pulling her off her stool. "I said now."

  A murmur of protest went around the room. It didn't deter Cole in the least. He crowded closer to her.

  Maia glanced around the bar, a quick appraisal of the situation, then her gaze was back on his face. Implacable resolve. He didn't care that others might come to her rescue. He was perfectly prepared to fight, and worse, he might win.

  His fingers tightened around her arm. "You don't want me to carry you out," he warned.

  "You don't want me to slap your face either," Maia said, her gaze flicking coolly over his face. "Let's go."

  chapter 3

  « ^ »

  "Don't ever do that again," Maia warned. She paused just outside of the bar to take a deep, calming breath of the night air. "I know something upset you, and believe me, that's the only reason I'm out here with you right now. I am not the kind of woman you can order around."Cole looked down at her, at the smoldering anger he saw in her eyes. It was snowing large flakes, falling softly and mutely between them. He reached out, his fingers curling around the nape of her neck, and pulled her toward him, his mouth taking possession of hers before she could protest.

  She expected his kiss to be as wild and dominating as he was, but it was just the opposite. His mouth was incredibly gentle on hers, soft but firm, a whisper of fire, his lips brushing at hers with a disarming tenderness. He lifted his head, his blue eyes nearly dazzling her.

  Cole could feel his heart thudding hard, too hard. There was a curious melting sensation in the region of his stomach, and his body reacted instantly to the close proximity of hers. He knew immediately he had made a big mistake. Maia Armstrong was no ordinary woman, and he was going to get burned if he didn't regain some control, and fast. His fingers massaged the nape of her neck, brushing caresses in her soft hair. He was renowned for his control, yet she seemed to turn him inside out. His careful defenses didn't work with her.

  Maia managed to pull away from him. "If this emergency is some sham to get me to your ranch for more of that…" She glared at him and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, desperate to remove his taste. His kiss had felt like a brand, making fire race from his lips and tongue to her belly, lower still, so that she'd felt her body go liquid with desire for him. And he'd barely touched her.

  "That was an apology. And stop trying to wipe it off." He caught her wrist, pulling her hand away from her mouth, satisfaction mixing with something else in his eyes, something that could have been alarm. He led her across the parking lot. "I'm used to giving orders and getting things done. We have to get to the ranch immediately and telling you to come seemed like the fastest way to accomplish that."

  Maia bit down hard on her lower lip. She should have stopped him, slapped him, done anything besides participate. She touched her mouth. It was still burning. She'd definitely participated. Where was her pride? Her outrage? The man was more dangerous to her than she'd realized. With an effort, Maia found her voice again. "You might want to give me the particulars." She sounded a little husky. "What type of animal, and what's the injury?"

  "A horse. Jase's favorite horse Celtic High, although he won't admit it. Unfortunately, there's a blizzard coming, a bad series of storms that could hang you up for days. I can't trailer the horse out during the storm, so I'll need you to come with me now. I can only promise that if it's at all possible, I'll have the roads cleared for you to return."

  Maia glanced upward at the rapidly falling snow. "I thought the storm wasn't supposed to hit for several hours."

  "It's early. We've got to move fast to stay ahead of it."

  "I'll need my rig. I can follow you out," Maia said, switching directions, the professional taking over. "I have the drug
s and everything I need in the sterile packs. I have to call the service and let them know and get Dr. Stacy to take over while I'm gone. He's able to work on an emergency basis. If we're lucky, we'll beat the storm."

  "I'll drive. We keep the road to the ranch plowed, but it can get rough in spots," Cole said, easily keeping pace with her. "And there's no way to plow during a blizzard. Jase said the bay went through a fence and that it has multiple injuries, gashes down to the bone and splinters of wood embedded in it. He said he thought the horse was suffering and should be put down, but he couldn't do it."

  "And you want me to save the horse even if it can't ever be ridden again?" Many ranchers put down a horse that was no longer a working animal.

  "Absolutely. Whatever it takes, as long as the horse isn't suffering," Cole said. "We've got a big ranch. He can live out his days there."

  Maia nodded. "Okay then. And maybe we'll be lucky, and it won't be as bad as it looks. Horses can sustain heavy injuries, and if you keep them from getting an infection, can come back quite sound." She glanced back toward his truck, white from the fall of snow. "I'm used to driving in the snow. You don't want to leave your truck here."

  "I have plenty of vehicles at the ranch, including a helicopter. And no one's going to touch my truck." His gaze met hers squarely.

  Maia couldn't prevent the small shiver that went down her spine. Cole was right. Maia knew most of the townspeople feared him. There was always that dangerous edge to him he couldn't hide, and he didn't bother to try. Recognizing there was little use in arguing, she pulled out her cell phone and made the call to her service. The snow fell into her hair and down the neckline of her shirt while she gave the necessary instructions.

  As she pushed the small phone back into her pocket, she reached for the driver's door just as Cole did. Maia pulled her hand back to avoid contact. "My rig," she said.

  "But I'm driving. I know the road, and the storm is coming in far faster than we thought. It'll be safer with me driving because I know every rut and curve in that road." Cole swept the snow from her hair, sheltering her with his body from the worst of the flurries. "We don't have much time. Give me the keys."

  Maia paused, her hand gripping the keys. "Why were you in jail?" She didn't want it to matter, but it did. She wasn't about to become another victim because she was too stupid even to ask.

  Cole yanked open the door on the driver's side, swift impatience crossing his face. "Not rape, if that's what you think. I don't abuse women." He slid behind the wheel and slammed the door with unnecessary force.

  "Oh, really?" She hurried around the vehicle to slide in beside him, handing him the keys. "All those poor women you take to bed must feel pretty abused when you never call them again." The moment she closed the door she felt trapped. He was potent up close, intensely male. His shoulders were wide, and his chest thick and well muscled. She could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. And his kiss lingered on her lips.

  His gaze dwelt on her face for a long moment as he turned the engine on. Immediately "White Christmas" blared out of the speakers, filling the Toyota Land Cruiser with music. Cole winced and turned it off.

  "We need to get one thing straight right now, Maia," he said. "When I take a woman to bed, she never feels abused. And I detest Christmas music."

  "That's two things," she pointed out, furious at herself because she was tantalized by the very thought of going to bed with him. He was far too arrogant and sure of himself for her liking. And he was a bad boy. Trouble. The kind of man a smart woman stayed away from. "And I love Christmas music."

  "You would."

  "What does that mean?" He'd dragged her off before she could grab her jacket, and the temperature had dipped sharply leaving her cold and shivering. Maia switched the heater to full power and rubbed her arms for warmth.

  "It means you're one of those sappy women who get all gooey around little kids and animals and you love the holidays. You probably give the garbageman a present." With something close to impatience, Cole tossed her his jacket. "Put it on until it gets warm in here. And you do, don't you?"

  "There's absolutely nothing wrong with giving the garbageman a present. He works hard." She took the jacket only because she was freezing, "Why?" she asked.

  "Why what?" He kept his eyes on the road, picking up speed and heading out of town, pushing the speed limit as well as the margin of safety.

  "Why do you detest Christmas music?" Maia watched him closely. His expression didn't change, but the tension in the Land Cruiser went up a notch.

  "Doesn't everyone detest Christmas music?" he countered.

  "No, most people love it. It's a happy time of year."

  "Is it?" His voice was grim. "Maybe to you. To me, it's a damned nightmare."

  "I take it you don't buy gifts for your lady friends," she teased.

  He glanced at her then, his gaze ice-cold as it moved deliberately over her body. "I might be willing to come up with a gift or two for you if that's what it takes."

  Maia locked her fingers together to keep from smacking him and turned her face away to stare out the window at the white world around her. If not for the injured horse and the thought of the boy waiting for them, she would have told Cole Steele to go to hell, pushed him out of her truck and driven back to town.

  Cole felt the silence cut between them like a knife. He preferred quiet. He was never uncomfortable with it. Yet with Maia, he found himself wanting to reach out to her, to bridge the gap he was creating between them. He was fighting for the life he was familiar with, the one he knew and could survive in. He didn't trust things like laughter and warmth, had never thought about having them for himself until he'd pulled her into his arms and held her against his body. His body had demanded hers, and that should have been enough. No-entanglements sex was all he ever wanted, yet he didn't think it would be enough with Maia. She touched him in ways that were unexpected, intriguing, and frightening all at the same time.

  He turned off the main highway onto the private road that led to the ranch. The snow was heavier than he'd counted on, but he knew every twist and turn. The snowplow had cleared the road before he left for town, but already, the surface was covered with a thick white blanket. He peered out at the snowflakes bursting at the windshield. Maia suddenly tensed and pulled back, making herself smaller in the seat, throwing up a hand to shield her face. A huge owl nearly slammed into the window, wings outstretched and flapping, head back, talons extended as if going in for the kill. It had come at them swiftly and silently, an apparition swooping out of the blinding snow.

  The wicked talons reached straight toward Cole's eyes with only the glass separating them. Beside him, Maia gasped. He swerved, nearly losing traction, a string of curses erupting from him until he felt the tires grip and hold. The owl just cleared the top of the vehicle, and Cole breathed a sigh of relief. The bird had been so close he had been able to see individual feathers on its body.

  Maia huddled inside Cole's jacket, closing her eyes, trying to calm her pounding heart. The owl had shrieked a warning to her, risked its life to caution her to go back. She glanced at Cole's face, the lines etched deeply there. The owl had flooded her mind with quick, flashing images of violence. It happened so fast, Maia hadn't gotten a clear glimpse of the animal's projection. Only the ominous warning. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to sort out what the bird was striving to communicate. Darkness. Horses moving. Men. Flashes of lights that could have been rifle fire. None of it made sense.

  "That's never happened to me before," Cole said. "Maybe it was confused by the storm. Owls see and hear so well, I imagine accidents would rarely happen."

  "He was in hunting mode."

  Her voice was so low, Cole barely heard her. He flicked a quick glance her way. She looked pale, her eyes clouded with fear.

  "I'm a good driver, Maia. I'll get us there."

  She didn't answer. Cole sighed. She was doing him a favor, coming out to the ranch in the middle of what was rapi
dly becoming a mean blizzard. He should have been more polite. She'd probably worked all day, and she had a long, cold night ahead of her, trying to save the horse for Jase.

  "I shouldn't have said that about buying you." Cole glanced at her. It was always so easy with women. He looked at them, they fell into his arms. They had sex, they went home, and he didn't think about them again. That was how it was supposed to work, but Maia seemed to blow his carefully constructed barricades all to hell.

  For a moment he thought she wouldn't respond. She didn't turn her head to look at him, but stared out the window at the flurry of snowflakes. "Why did you?"

  "You get under my skin, and I don't like it," he answered truthfully. "I've never met a woman like you."

  "You've met a million women like me. It's just that none of them ever stood up to you before." Her voice was low and half-muffled by his thick jacket, but it found its way into his body, past his skin and muscle to his very bones.

  She turned back toward him, and his breath left his lungs in a rush. He wasn't used to anyone having that kind of effect on him, and it shook his usual calm. He kept his expression carefully blank, his warning system shrieking at him that he was in trouble. "You're an interesting woman. Anyone else would have jumped on the fact that I admitted you get to me, but not you. You have to be different."

  "It wouldn't serve any purpose to discuss it. I'm not going to sleep with you. I don't do one-night stands. I'm not at all into casual sex." She managed a small smile. "But I'll admit you're a terrible temptation."

  He glanced at her, felt the wheels slide in a particularly heavy drift of snow, catch, and propel them forward. She flung out her hand to grab the dashboard, but she didn't tell him to slow down.

  "I always get what I want, Maia." He said it with complete confidence. He didn't know if it was her cool refusal, the warmth in her small smile, or the stark intensity of his desire for her, but he was determined she wouldn't elude him. Even when he knew he was risking more than he should.