Maia couldn't argue with him. She was shivering uncontrollably. "I'd love a hot shower." Just the idea sounded like ecstasy.
The thought of Maia naked in the shower was enough to give Cole heart failure. "Sure." His voice was husky and she gave him a sharp glance. He put his hand over his heart. "You're killing me."
"Good. It's about time someone did. All those women come way too easy for you. It isn't good for you, you know."
"What? Women? You make me sound like a gigolo. There haven't been all that many." Why was he defending himself? It was her smile, the way it lit her eyes, the way her soft mouth curved. Inwardly he groaned. His mouth tightened. His jaw hardened. Why did he have to be so intrigued by everything she said and did?
Maia pinned him with her gaze, a small smirk escaping over his reaction. "There were that many women. Point me toward the shower and the bathroom had better have a really good lock on the door. I did mention I'm proficient in several forms of martial arts, didn't I?"
"I knew we were compatible. So am I."
She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Of course you are. What was I thinking?"
chapter 5
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Maia threw off the goose-down quilt and sat up. It was impossible to go to sleep. She was so tired she wanted to scream in frustration, but the house seemed to whisper to her. Evil, haunting whispers she couldn't ignore. The pain in the house ran deep, was soaked into the walls and floors and ceilings. She pressed her hands over her ears, trying to drown out the whispers and finally gave up, leaping from the bed. It wasn't because she was psychic that she could feel the pain radiating out off the walls, it was because it was so intense anyone would have felt it.
The blizzard had to stop soon, or she would be going out of her mind in this place. Maia wandered through the spacious hall and down the curving staircase. The front of the house was mainly glass, and the snow reflected light from every source, illuminating the interior of the house with soft silver light. The house was beautiful, but it was a cold beauty, almost cruel. It gave her the creeps. Shivering, she made her way toward the kitchen. Something to warm her up might help her sleep. If it weren't so cold, she would go out to her Land Cruiser and sleep there. "What are you doing up?"
Maia whirled around, her heart in her throat. Cole Steele was sprawled out on the overlarge couch, long legs stretched out in front of him and a bottle of Jack Daniel's on the table. Her gaze jumped from the bottle to his face. In that one, unguarded moment, she caught a glimpse of a man ravaged by pain, by unspeakable horror, and she knew the truth. Jase had not been the only one to be abused. Cole had suffered the same torment as Jase, and it explained a lot about the man he had become. Wary. Dangerous. Solitary. It was a miracle that he had come back to take care of his half brother.
Cole wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle, his gaze all at once hot as it drifted with too much interest over her body. "I asked why you were still up." There was a dark sensuality that called to everything feminine in her.
"Ghosts live in this house, but you already know that, don't you?"
His fingers tightened around the bottle. Without taking his eyes off her, he lifted it to his mouth and took a drink. His shirt was open, leaving the heavy muscles of his chest bare. There was rage in his eyes. Too many memories and none of them good. "Yes," he answered abruptly, studying her over the rim of the bottle. "When they get to be too much, I drown them. Do you want to join me?"
Maia shook her head, resisting the need in him. So much darkness and intensity, and Cole was very tempting. She healed hurt animals, and right now, he was far too close to being one. His way of forgetting was to drink, to have sex with a woman… any woman. "Hot chocolate for me. I presume you must keep a supply of chocolate on hand with Jase around."
He nodded and turned away from her, setting the bottle carefully on the table and staring out the huge glass panel to the pristine snow endlessly coming down. He looked utterly alone, and her heart stilled. Maia glanced around the enormous room, with its cathedral ceilings, and the curving stairway that went off in two directions. The house should have been alive with joy and music and Christmas decorations. There should have been logs in the fireplace and the fragrance of cinnamon and pine wafting through the air. Instead there was a boy alone in his room struggling to find a way to survive and a man drowning his demons in alcohol.
She shook her head. The pain and suffering in the house was overwhelming for someone as empathic as she was. And it made her angry on a level she'd never experienced before. Cole and Jase Steele existed, yet they weren't really living. The ghost lived, and he ruled with an iron fist in the house.
Maia thought it over as she made the chocolate. The house itself was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, yet it was bleak and as empty as the life Cole Steele seemed to live. Earlier, in the kitchen, Jase had laughed with her, teasing her about his pajamas being too big when she rolled up the cuffs and generally acting like a happy boy. Her heart had gone out to him as he worked so hard at being normal when the very walls of the house shrieked and wept for his suffering.
Cole had said little, never smiled, his blue gazed focused and direct, watching her watch Jase. Sitting in the kitchen chair, in his own home, he should have been relaxed, but instead, he had been on edge, wary, aware of everything around him. Now she knew why. She could have sat in that chef's dream of a kitchen and wept for both of them. Two men struggling to learn to come together as a family. Wary. Secretive. Ready to push everything and everyone away—including each other. Everything, healer and woman and compassionate human being responded to the intense pain in both of the Steeles, but a part of her, her instinct for self-preservation, wanted to run away and hide. She had no idea what to do to help either of them.
With a small sigh of resignation, knowing she couldn't just ignore it all, Maia added marshmallows to the chocolate and, picking up the mug, went to lean in the doorway to the living room. Cole's head was in his hands, his body tense, hair damp as if he'd just woken from a night terror—or still remained locked within it. She dug her fingers into the doorframe to keep from going to him. He wouldn't accept comfort, unless she offered sex—and she wasn't about to offer herself up as a sacrificial lamb.
"Go to bed, Maia," he muttered without looking up. "It isn't safe when I'm like this."
She took a cautious sip of the hot chocolate. Waiting in silence. Cole turned his head and looked at her, and her heart jumped, nearly melted. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
The careful, expressionless mask was back in place, but he couldn't hide the pain revealed in his eyes. It remained there. Alive and ugly and so ingrained she wanted to comfort him. Needed to comfort him.
"You think I do this to myself?" There was controlled violence in his voice.
A shiver of fear went down her spine, but Maia persisted. She gestured around the house. "You keep this house a monument to the pain and suffering he caused. You live inside his world, and you expect somehow that you and Jase can overcome it. He's all around you, alive, here in this house, and you don't do anything to get him out of here."
"Who do you mean by he?" he asked suspiciously. He stood up, tall and lethal, a man who worked hard to stay in shape, to train himself to be the weapon he'd become. A man who despised pity and refused sympathy, preferring to remain alone rather than risk trusting anyone. Few knew about his past, he'd come clean with a soft version for his superiors at work, but never a woman. He didn't need a bleeding heart trying to stake a claim on him.
Maia's heart began a frantic pounding. She was very aware she was isolated from help, possibly for days. Cole looked capable of anything. She forced a shrug, trying to look nonchalant. "The ghost, of course. You admitted you have one."
He shook his head as he took an aggressive step toward her, bare feet making no sound in the thick pile of carpet. "Don't dodge the truth. Someone's been talking to you. What did they say?"
She took another sip of chocolate. The cup was shaking so she
steadied it with her other hand. "I know something happened to Jase, yes. It's not all that difficult to figure out. And"—she indicated the bottle with her chin—"that says it happened to you as well."
He spat out a string of ugly imprecations, taking a second step toward her. "You don't know anything about us. Big deal, I'm having a drink. Don't feel sorry for me, Doc, I don't need it."
Despite her fear—or maybe because of it, Maia burst out laughing. "I definitely am feeling sorry for me, not you. Everyone has to live with demons, Steele. Some are worse than others, but we all have them. It's your choice how you deal with them. Drink yourself silly if that's what floats your boat. Personally, I'd drive the ghost out of my home. Reclaim it from him. Exorcise him, if you will." She looked around the house. "It's beautiful here and you've allowed it to become a mausoleum, cold and ugly with something cruel living in it. I can feel it. You can too. And so can Jase. I don't know why you want to keep it alive, but, hey"—she shrugged—"it's nothing to do with me."
Her heart hurt for him. Ached for Jase. But Cole Steele was never going to accept compassion from her. It would seem too much like pity to him. And if she had sex with him, which he so obviously wanted, it might get him through the night, but he'd still have to face his nightmares again and again.
"You're damned right it's nothing to do with you." Cole crossed the room, to stand in front of her. The top two buttons of his jeans were carelessly unbuttoned as if he'd pulled them on hastily and exited his bedroom as fast as he could.
Maia refused to be intimidated. She knew he was being blatantly sexual on purpose, hoping to scare her away or get her into his bed. The knowledge gave her the confidence to walk right past him and she set her mug on the coffee table.
Using her most casual voice, as if they were conversing over a trivial matter rather than one that cut so deep, she said, "It doesn't matter, Cole. We just believe in handling things differently. It doesn't mean I'm right, and you're wrong, it just means I wouldn't do things your way, and you wouldn't do them my way."
His cool blue gaze drifted over her. "What would you do if you lived here with ghosts?"
It sounded taunting, like a challenge.
She raised an eyebrow, turned to look around the spacious room. "I wouldn't let him drive me out or ruin my life. I'm mean like that. If I could actually have a home, no one would take it from me."
Maia wanted a home, but for some reason wouldn't stay too long in any one place. Cole filed the information away for future use. "Give me an example. Jase hates Christmas. It wasn't a nice time of year for him. He doesn't even like to hear the music, it brings on nightmares. If I cranked up "Jingle Bells," I'd just be making things worse for him." And for himself. He'd looked death in the eye a thousand times, courted it, spit at it, and he'd never so much as broken a sweat. But the thought of hearing Christmas music, seeing decorations, reliving nightmares every moment scared the hell out of him.
Maia nodded. Cole might be telling the truth about Jase, but in the scenario he was describing his and his brother's names were interchangeable. She took a deep breath and let it out. She wasn't a psychiatrist, and she didn't have anything but her instincts to go on, but she knew someone had to reach out to Cole Steele before it was too late. He shut out the world, preferred to live in isolation, but Jase had provided him with a small window of opportunity to get his life back. What Cole would not do for himself, he might be willing to do for Jase, and heal them both in the process.
"Everyone is different in how they handle these things, but the truth is, Christmas comes every year. Jase is going to have to face it year after year. And the season seems to come earlier every year. What happens if he wants to get married and have children? It doesn't mean he can't have a great family life without celebrating Christmas; but if he falls in love with someone like me, someone who loves Christmas, it might be difficult."
Someone like me. Cole's heart did a funny somersault. Maia did love Christmas, and he could see with her sunny, outgoing, giving personality, she would. She was happy and cheerful, and she wanted a home. Families celebrated things like Christmas. He nodded, feeling more alone than ever. "I've considered that. I just don't know how to go about getting him to enjoy the season. If we go into town, and he looks at all the decorations, that's enough to trigger the nightmares."
"It started here, didn't it? With his father?" She asked it carefully, not looking at him, not taking a chance he'd see the knowledge in her eyes. She was treading on very dangerous ground. Cole would be lethal under the right circumstances, and she didn't want him to feel as if he had to defend himself.
"Yes." He bit the words between his teeth. It wasn't talked about. Jase wouldn't be happy she knew he'd been abused, any more than Cole wanted her to know. There was a sense of shame in being a victim, even if you were a child and couldn't stop it.
"Jase has to feel his father's presence here all the time, especially if you both leave everything the way it was. I feel the man's presence. How could you not? If I was making the decisions, and I was going to keep the ranch, I'd change every single room. I'd redecorate, even use rooms for different things. I take it Christmas was never celebrated here?"
"God, no," Cole said. "The old man hated Christmas."
"Do you know why?"
Cole shrugged. "I'm guessing his old man hated it, but whatever his reasons, he used it to hurt everyone. He was at his most dangerous then. He seduced women, even brought them home in front of his wives. If anyone made the mistake of turning on the radio where he could hear a Christmas song played, and I'm talking the housekeeper or one of the ranch hands, he'd play it over and over and beat the hell out of Jase or his wife."
Or Cole and his mother. Maia sat down in the wide, cushioned chair. She deliberately chose a single chair rather than the couch to keep a safe distance between them. Cole made her feel vulnerable. There was too much pain and suffering, and she was a healer. When she felt pain, she responded. She forced herself to remain calm, to breathe in and out when she wanted to scream with anger at the destructive monster who had caused so much suffering in his own children. "So in effect, that man is still dictating what goes on in this house."
Cole passed his hand over his face, as if to wipe away the memories crowding in. "I fired everyone. The ranch hands, the housekeeper, anyone that was here and had to have known what was happening to him, but it didn't help much. I keep Jase with me when we interview people, and I listen to his input. He has a say in whom we hire and whom we pass on. I want him to feel safe here."
"How can he when that man is still in this house? Brett Steele is everywhere, in every room. And he's still the boss. He forbade you to enjoy such a simple thing as a Christmas season, and you don't. So he wins. Even from the grave, he wins."
Cole swore savagely, making Maia wince. She stared out the window to the heavy snowflakes, waiting for him to regain control of his temper.
"I'm sorry, Steele. You asked, and I gave my opinion. I'm no professional, and I'm sure you must have sought counseling for Jase. I shouldn't have said anything when I don't have any experience."
He waved a dismissing hand. "I wanted your opinion, or I wouldn't have asked. I've considered what you're saying myself. I guess I just wanted you to say there was another, easier way. I've taken Jase to counselors; he doesn't trust anyone. He refuses to talk to them."
"There has to be a really good professional who could help him."
"Maybe, but I haven't found the person. I can't blame Jase. He tried to get help when his father was alive, and no one listened. In all fairness, they didn't dare listen. Money talks, and the old man had a lot of power. He could destroy a business easily and did if his son befriended someone or talked out of turn. Jase's trust is a fragile thing right now. I'm not going to force him to see anyone until he knows he can count on me."
"And can he?" Maia asked quietly.
"If I never do another thing right in my life, I'll do this. Yes, he can count on me. He's coming first in my li
fe. I've put my job on hold until he's squared away."
Maia's gaze met his. "What job?"
Cole sprawled out in the chair across from her. "Does it matter?"
"Sure it does. Do you like what you do? Do you miss working?"
"I like the isolation of it. It's comforting. I know the world and the rules, and nothing is ever a surprise." Cole was astonished the words slipped out. Maybe he'd had more to drink than he'd realized. He pushed the bottle away with the tips of his fingers.
"I guess I feel the same way about my job," Maia said.
Cole regarded her through half-closed eyes. She was always surprising him. There was something soothing and right about having her in his house. He could never imagine anyone else ever being there, but somehow Maia just fit. "Why do you travel so much? You should have a home."
She flashed him her smile. The one that could knock a man off his feet even from a distance. He'd wanted that smile turned on him; yet alone in his house, with demons surrounding him and alcohol buzzing in his veins, it was all too dangerous. She was so beautiful, curled up in the chair, her bare feet tucked under her. And the question had to be asked, what was under those thin, flannel pajamas? He'd never considered flannel sexy before, but he was looking at it in an entirely new way.
"What? Stop looking at me as if you're the big bad wolf." She shook her head. "I guess you can't help yourself, you're always in hunting mode."
Instantly his expression closed down. His gaze was watchful, shrewd. "I don't like games, Maia. What the hell are you talking about?"
He was thinking conspiracy theory. She sat across from him, weariness plain on her face, no makeup, no guile, and he was actually considering the possibility that she had somehow set up the injury to the horse and was out to get him, using Jase. Had he gone over the edge? To be paranoid of the veterinarian? She traveled all the time. Was a stranger in town, but was able to gain the trust of those around her fast. Nonetheless, the little voice that was always asking questions and compiling data persisted.
The Shadows of Christmas Past Page 7
