But while here, she was different, acting out of character, often feeling as though she was viewing herself from afar.
Brandon knew she was leaving in another week, knew what they were sharing was temporary, which was the way he seemed to prefer his relationships with women. They were making memories together that they each could do with as they saw fit in the future.
No one was going to get hurt when Andrea packed her suitcase, checked out of Hamilton House, and drove down the mountain in her red car. This was stolen time and it had to end. Both she and Brandon knew that.
Yes, they cared for each other, but it wasn’t as though they’d fallen in love.
Now that she had put the situation in perspective, all she had to do was gather enough courage to make her innermost desires known to Brandon.
“Tonight,” she whispered. “Christmas Eve. A magical night, a special night, a perfect night. Yes.”
A knock sounded at the door, bringing her from her thoughts. She left the bed and hurried across the room to answer the summons. A teenage boy smiled at her when she opened the door.
“Hi, Andrea,” he said.
“Hello, Mickey,” she said. “What brings you to my door? I’m afraid I don’t need any more gas in my car.”
“I know, darn it,” he said. “I sure appreciate your letting me drive that slick car, though. Anyway, I’m here because Brandon asked me to hand-deliver the newspaper to you. You and your snowman on the square made the front page.”
Andrea laughed. “Oh, my goodness, I forgot all about the picture the photographer took that day. Well, our marvelous snowman has since melted, so it will be fun to have a permanent record of him.”
“It’s starting to snow right now,” Mickey said. “You can build another snowman.”
“One set of frozen toes is enough. Thanks for bringing me the paper.”
“You bet. Merry Christmas.”
“The same to you,” she said, accepting the folded newspaper.
Andrea closed the door, then started slowly toward the bed, flipping open the paper as she went. A gasp escaped from her lips and she stopped in her tracks, her eyes riveted on the front page of the newspaper.
The people at the paper had gone all out with the Christmas Eve issue, adding color and a big headline that read “Happy Holidays!” Pictures of brightly and beautifully decorated Christmas trees surrounded the large photograph in the center of the page.
Andrea moved to the bed on trembling legs. She sank onto the spread, tightly gripping the edges of the paper.
The snowman was spectacular. The children on one side of the creation were beaming with pride.
She and Brandon were standing on the other side of Frosty. Brandon was smiling at the camera and had one arm encircling Andrea’s shoulders as he nestled her close to him.
Dear heaven, Andrea thought frantically, look at her. Look at the expression on her face as she gazed up at Brandon in all her soggy, snow-covered glory.
“Oh, merciful saints,” she said, then pressed shaking fingertips to her lips.
There for all of Prescott and beyond to see was a full-color picture of a woman in love, who was concentrating totally on the man who had stolen her heart for all time.
There was a soft smile on her lips, and her eyes radiated a message of love as clearly as if she were shouting it from the rooftops.
“No,” she said, sudden tears filling her eyes as she shook her head. “No, it isn’t true. I’m not in love with Brandon. I’m not!”
Was she?
She would know if she was, wouldn’t she?
Yes. Yes, of course.
But then again, how would she know? She had never been in love in her life.
No, this was ridiculous, insane, unacceptable. She cared for Brandon, she knew that. All right, all right, she cared deeply for Brandon, but—no, she had not fallen in love during her temporary stay in Prescott. Absolutely not.
Andrea set the newspaper next to her on the bed, then jumped to her feet. She began to pace the room, wringing her hands.
Calm down, Andrea, she told herself, blinking away the unwelcome tears. She had to think, sort this through.
But if she was in love with Brandon, as that damnable picture in the paper seemingly announced to the world, she didn’t want to know.
Nothing had changed. She was still leaving Prescott in a week to return to her career, her existence in Phoenix.
Yes, she cared for Brandon very much, and she would cherish the wonderful memories of him, of what they’d shared together, that she had tucked safely away in the treasure chest in her heart.
But on New Year’s Day, she would pack her suitcase, settle her bill at the hotel, get into her car and drive away.
She would never see Brandon again.
A chill coursed through her as she continued to pace around the room.
No, she would never see Brandon again. Whatever feelings she might have for him would dim, fade, then finally disappear.
She had no tune, no place in her life for love. Being in love and having that love returned in kind led to marriage, hearth and home, babies. She had no room for all of that. No room.
And even if she’d actually been stupid enough to have fallen in love with him, Brandon wasn’t in love with her.
A man like him wouldn’t be content to kiss her good-night at the door every evening, then walk blissfully away, if he was in love with her. He cared for her, yes, but he wasn’t in love with her, because he’d given no indication that he wanted to make love with her.
Andrea stopped abruptly.
She had been determined to make love with Brandon tonight. Did she dare follow through on that brazen mission while not knowing the true depths of her feelings for him? Was that emotionally dangerous?
Andrea edged closer to the bed and peered at the photograph.
Maybe it was a trick of light, the way she just happened to look when she was half-frozen. Whatever the case, she was ignoring it.
She still wanted to make love with Brandon.
And there was still no reason why either of them would be hurt by taking that momentous step.
“Oh-hh,” she said, flopping stomach-down onto the bed. “I’m driving myself crazy.”
Jennifer came striding down the corridor leading from the dining room just as Ben entered the hotel. At the exact same moment, Aunt Pru and Aunt Charity emerged from the elevator.
All four were carrying the special edition of the newspaper. All four headed directly for the registration desk where Brandon was talking on the telephone.
Brandon glanced up, then did a double take as he swept his gaze over the quartet in front of the counter, all of whom were staring at him intently.
“Well, keep us posted, Jerry,” Brandon said. “This is certainly worth missing the Christmas party for, isn’t it? That baby will arrive when it is good and ready... Okay, we’ll be waiting to hear from you. Goodbye.”
Brandon replaced the receiver and smiled at the assembled group.
“That was Jerry,” he said. “His wife is in the hospital in labor. The only question that remains is whether they have a Christmas Eve, or Christmas Day, baby.” He paused. “You’re all a bit early, aren’t you? The party doesn’t start for another three hours. It’s at nine o’clock. Remember?”
“We remember,” Jennifer said. “I don’t know about the others, but I came to see you about this picture on the front page of the newspaper.”
“Ditto,” Ben said.
“Yes, dear,” Aunt Pru said. “Charity and I came directly down when we saw this photograph after Mickey delivered the paper to us.”
“You sly devil you,” Aunt Charity said. “You are one fast worker, I must say.”
Brandon frowned. “You’ve totally lost me. What are you talking about?”
“Have you looked at the picture?” Jennifer said. “Really looked at it?”
“Sure,” Brandon said, shrugging. “It’s great. That’s one fine snowman, don’t you
think? My father would be proud.”
“You’re as dense as a rock,” Ben said, shaking his head. He smacked his copy of the paper onto the counter. “Take another look.”
“Perhaps, Brandon, dear,” Aunt Pru said, “you might tell us what you see.”
“You’re all acting very weird,” he said, eyeing them warily.
“Put a cork in it and do as you’re told, big boy,” Aunt Charity said.
Brandon shifted his confused gaze to the newspaper.
“I’ll humor you,” he said. “It’s very sad that you all went nuts at the same time.”
“Hamilton,” Ben said, a warning tone to his voice.
“All right,” Brandon said. “We have here a full-color spread of Christmas trees surrounding the picture of a snowman. The snowman is smiling, the kids are smiling, Andrea and I are smiling. What else? We’re covered in snow, are obviously wet and cold, but don’t care. That covers it.”
“Dense and dumb as a rock,” Ben said. “Hey, I’m no expert about this stuff, but even I can see it.”
“See what?” Brandon said. “May I have a clue? Are we playing Twenty Questions?”
“Who wants the honors?” Jennifer said.
“Aunt Pru,” Ben said, “you talk to this idiot. If I try to, I’ll probably deck him.”
“There’s a thought,” Aunt Charity said. “I’ll vote for that.”
“You people are starting to get on my nerves,” Brandon said. “What in the hell is going on?”
“Brandon, dear,” Aunt Pru said. “I must admit that I’m a bit disappointed in you.”
“You are?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “What did I do?”
“It’s what you didn’t do, dear,” Aunt Pru said. “We all saw it so clearly.” She sighed. “Brandon, look at Andrea’s face, her smile, her eyes, in that photograph.”
Brandon glanced down at the picture, then back at Aunt Pru.
“So?” he said.
“Darling,” Aunt Pru said gently. “That is a woman who is in love, gazing at the man who has captured her heart. That is the look that brings out the butterflies dancing, dear.”
“What?” Brandon snatched up the newspaper and stared at it. “I... She... What?”
“Andrea Cunningham is in love with you, you dolt,” Ben said.
“Right on,” Aunt Charity said. “So, hot stuff, what are you going to do about it? That’s what we all want to know.”
“You’re crazy,” Brandon said, frowning. “I’m going to have you four committed, that’s what I’m going to do. Andrea isn’t...” He looked at the picture again. “She is?”
“Yes, dear,” Aunt Pru said. “She is.”
“I wonder if Andrea realizes it?” Jennifer said, pressing one fingertip to her chin. “The dense dud here sure is operating in the dark. Do you suppose we have a matched set on our hands?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” Aunt Charity said. “Do remember that Andrea has her head in a career cloud.”
“Oh, heavenly days,” Aunt Pru said. “Whatever shall we do?”
Brandon planted his hands flat on the counter and leaned forward.
“What you will do,” he said, a muscle ticking in his tightly clenched jaw, “all of you, is disappear within the next three seconds.”
The four took a step backward in perfect unison.
“Oh,” Jennifer said.
“Please don’t think we’re meddling, dear,” Aunt Pru said. “We came to speak with you about this matter out of concern and love.”
“We thought you might be too stubborn and set in your ways to see the nose in front of your face, let alone the photograph in front of your nose, which proved to be true,” Aunt Charity said.
Ben coughed to smother a chuckle.
“Goodbye, people,” Brandon said.
“We’re outta here, ladies,” Ben said. “See you at the party later, Brandon.”
“Mmm,” he said, glowering at the quartet.
Jennifer headed back to the dining room. Ben made a beeline for the front door. Aunt Pru and Aunt Charity bustled toward the elevator.
Brandon kept his stern expression firmly in place until he was certain the four were completely out of view. Then he took a deep, shuddering breath, pulled out the stool from beneath the counter and plunked down onto it with a thud. He stared at the picture in the newspaper.
Andrea had fallen in love with him? His mind thundered. Was it possible? Was it really true? Four people, whom he cared for, trusted and respected, had just told him that Andrea was, indeed, in love with him.
He peered closer at the photograph, then stared into space.
The week he had just spent with Andrea had been nothing short of heaven...and hell.
The heaven had come from being with her, from sharing and discovering important and meaningful details about each other.
Andrea had filled the void inside him to overflowing with an incredible warmth.
The hell was twofold.
To kiss Andrea good-night at her door each evening, then turn and walk away to enter his apartment alone had tied him in knots. He’d spent the nights tossing and turning in a bed that was suddenly too big, cold and empty.
He wanted to make love with Andrea.
The desire burned so hot that it threatened to consume him. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before.
It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to leave Andrea each night. He hadn’t wanted to push, to run the risk of pressuring her, perhaps causing her to refuse to see him again.
Was he in love with Andrea? Did his emotions match the ones that Jennifer, Ben, and the aunts claimed that Andrea had for him?
He didn’t know. But, oh, damn, the mere thought of it was terrifying. He didn’t want to be in love. He wasn’t cut out for marriage and the whole package it presented. No way.
Besides, Andrea was a guest at Hamilton House, a temporary visitor to Prescott. In one more week, she was scheduled to leave, to walk out of his life. She was a career-oriented woman, who had given no hint that she yearned for a life-style that included a husband and babies.
Brandon sighed and dragged both hands down his face.
What was the point in knowing his true feelings for Andrea? Or her for him? Even if she had fallen in love with him, she had the strength, the fortitude, to push that emotion to a dusty corner of her mind and return to her existence in Phoenix. No matter what, that was exactly what she would do.
Wouldn’t she?
But what if...
Brandon stiffened, his heart racing.
What if the busybody contingent was right, and Andrea was in love with him? And what if that love was more powerful than her dedication to her career? What if he was in love with Andrea, told her of his feelings, and asked her to marry him, to remain by his side in Prescott as his wife? Oh, cripe, marriage? Was he nuts?
“Slow down, Hamilton,” he muttered. “Just slow the hell down.”
First, he had to see, sense, maybe even be told something by Andrea herself, before he could really believe she loved him.
Second, he had to know his true feelings, the depth of his caring, for Andrea.
He had to figure out whether or not he was in love with Andrea Cunningham before he went right out of his ever-lovin‘ mind.
And tonight was the night.
It was Christmas Eve, with its magic and miracles, a special night of wonder and awe, a night capable of producing the answers he needed so desperately.
Yes, this was the night.
Seven
At eight o’clock a retired couple, who had been close friends of Brandon’s parents, arrived at the hotel as planned.
The gentleman would play Christmas carols on the piano in the lobby and the lady would take care of the reception desk while Brandon attended the Christmas party for the staff.
“We saw the delightful picture in the paper this evening, Brandon,” the woman said, smiling. “I can remember when you and your father built
a snowman on the square every winter.”
“Mmm,” Brandon said, looking at her intently. “Did you notice anything...special about that photograph?”
“You looked cold,” the man said. “I’m glad it was you out there and not me.”
“Yes, it was definitely nippy,” Brandon said. “Anything else?”
“Well...” the woman said thoughtfully.
“Yes?” Brandon prompted, leaning toward her slightly.
“I must say that the young woman...Andrea, is it?” the woman said. “Yes, Andrea Cunningham. I must say...” Her voice trailed off.
Brandon had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting at the woman to get on with it, to say what she felt she must say.
“What about Andrea?” he said, forcing himself to smile politely.
“I do believe,” she said, “that Andrea Cunningham is quite smitten with you, Brandon. There was just something about the way she was smiling and looking at you that...” She nodded. “Yes, Andrea is quite possibly in love with you.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Brandon said, dropping his chin to his chest.
“Pay her no mind, Brandon,” the man said. “Women are silly romantics, the whole bunch of them. They can’t help it, bless their matchmaking hearts. I saw that picture. Andrea looked wet and cold. Period.” He paused. “Well, she did look happy about being wet and cold, which is completely nuts.”
“Of course she looked happy,” the woman said. “She’s in love with Brandon.”
“I’ve got to go check on the arrangements for the party,” Brandon said. “Thanks for filling in tonight. Merry Christmas. Goodbye.”
He hurried away before he was the recipient of any more opinions on Andrea’s emotional state, wishing he’d never broached the subject of the damnable photograph in the first place.
The party was being held in a large conference room located beyond the end of the main lobby. A tall, twinkling Christmas tree stood in one corner of the room, Brandon’s gifts to the employees beneath it. Tables and chairs lined the edges of the expanse, and a lush buffet was being set up along the far wall. A five-piece band was due to arrive just before nine o’clock.
Taming Tall, Dark Brandon Page 8
