He grinned at his own reflection. Maybe it was the idea of the agency, but suddenly this world felt as if it were made for couples. Even Dr. Love was married. He rocked forward on the balls of his feet as if it could make the elevator go faster. Then it stopped with a soft chime and the doors opened.
He went to his right, crossed to the arched entry as the strains of “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” blared from the speakers and stopped by the bench where he’d left his overcoat. One look and he could tell the suede jacket was gone. He went into the ballroom and a glance told him she wasn’t there. Quickly, he pushed past the people to get to the bar and he had to almost shout to make himself heard by the bartender. “The blonde I was dancing with earlier?”
The man grinned. “Yeah, quite a looker.”
“Have you seen her in here?”
“Last time I saw her was just after you left. She was leaving, I think.”
Steven felt his stomach knot. “Are you sure?”
“I saw her go out to the hallway and she hasn’t come back.”
“Do you know who she is?”
The man shrugged. “Beats me. I’ve only worked for Rachel a couple of times as a bartender. I don’t know too many people here, just Rachel and her sisters. Did you want another drink?”
Steven shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said as he turned and headed back to the door. As he approached the entry, he spotted their discarded brandy snifters sitting where he’d left them before the dance. He strode past them out of the room and reached for his overcoat. She’d taken off, even though he’d been so sure she’d wait. And the regret that Dr. Love was married was a mere shadow of the downer he felt that the woman had disappeared.
As he got in the elevator, he slipped on his coat, then hit the Down button. “Merry Christmas,” he muttered to his own grim reflection in the brass doors as they slid shut.
* * *
WYATT STOOD on the balcony that looked down into the black-and-white marble entry on the ground floor and whispered, “The enemy’s nowhere in sight.” With that, he motioned to Jared to follow him down the stairs.
The boys, dressed in their camouflage pajamas, inched their way down the spiral staircase. When they got to the bottom step, Wyatt held Jared back with one hand as he pressed a finger to his lips and listened. Bishop was in his room near the kitchen with the door closed, but Wyatt didn’t doubt that he would hear them if they made one false move.
He glanced across the foyer decorated with blue tinsel garlands, into the study where the decorator had put the Christmas tree by the fireplace. Their tree was real, almost touching the inlaid oak ceiling of the tweed-and-leather room, and it was decorated all in blue. It was definitely a blue year for the decorating company his dad hired each year.
Satisfied that Bishop was safely out of the way, he motioned to Jared and headed for the open door to the study. Once inside, he eased the sliding door shut, then turned to Jared in the soft glow from the tree lights and a lamp near the desk where his father worked at home. “Be my lookout,” he whispered, and when the other boy nodded, Wyatt hurried across to the tree and crouched by the stack of brightly wrapped gifts under it.
He recognized the prepackaged gifts from business associates, and the one Jared had brought for him yesterday, but he found the one he was looking for near the front. It was the gift his father had brought home last night, a package he’d said would make up for not being able to get away for Christmas.
“For Wyatt, love, Dad” was scrawled on the tag on the gold foil package.
He picked up the long, thick package while Jared stood by the door and whispered, “Hurry up. Just look in it and see what it is.”
Wyatt looked down at the gift, and hope hadn’t completely died. As soon as he’d known about the gift, he’d thought maybe his dad really was going to give him what he wanted for Christmas. Maybe he just said no to make it more of a surprise. Maybe he’d put tickets to go skiing in the box so he wouldn’t know what they were. Quickly, he slipped his finger in the end flap, eased the tape off the foil and unfolded the heavy wrapping. As he held the opening up to the low light and saw the label on the bottom of the exposed box, he stared at it for a long moment.
“Wyatt?” Jared whispered.
Quickly, Wyatt redid the wrapping, then put it back in its place and stood. He hurried back to Jared by the door and would have gone out into the hall if his friend hadn’t grabbed his arm and whispered, “So did he get plane tickets or something for a trip?”
Wyatt shrugged away from his hold. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Come on. Tell me what it is.”
He looked at Jared and forced out the words. “He got me a Planetarian.”
Jared started to smile. Wyatt knew his friend wanted one of them, and as far as Wyatt was concerned, he could have his. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. Another toy. “No way,” Jared said, making his face sober and concerned.
“Yeah, way,” Wyatt muttered, more disappointed than he’d been in what seemed forever.
“Bummer,” Jared muttered, but with little conviction.
Wyatt tried to be cool, but it hurt a lot. “Yeah, bummer,” he echoed and motioned his friend to go with him.
They eased out into the foyer and had barely turned when a booming voice stopped them in their tracks. “Hold on there, you two.”
Wyatt and Jared looked at each other, then turned to face the Terminator bearing down on them. “Yes, sir?”
Bishop, a giant of a man, didn’t wear a uniform like Mrs. O’Neal had, but he looked ominous dressed all in black. From the collarless shirt with long sleeves that barely contained muscular arms, to snug slacks on hard thighs, and leather boots, the man looked grim. His blond hair, long enough to wear in a ponytail, was the only light thing about him. Even his eyes were as dark as the night.
And right now they were narrowed on the boys. “I thought the two of you were upstairs watching videos,” he said in his deep, rough voice. “What’s going on out here?”
Wyatt shrugged nervously. “Nothing.”
A scar that cut through Bishop’s left eyebrow tugged at an odd angle as he frowned. “What were you doing down here?”
“Nothing.”
“Where were you going?”
“Nowhere.”
Bishop came closer, and Wyatt was always surprised that the floor didn’t shake when the man moved. “Nothing, nothing, and nowhere. Good man. If the enemy ever catches you, this country’s safe.”
Wyatt didn’t understand. “What?”
He shrugged that off with a lift of his powerful shoulders. “Both of you, upstairs now, unless you want to help me scrub out the downstairs bathroom.”
“If my dad gets home soon, could you ask him to come up to see me?”
He nodded. “Sure. Now about that bathroom?”
“We’ll go upstairs, sir,” Jared said quickly.
“Call me Bishop,” he said.
Wyatt was shocked when Jared actually said, “Is Bishop your first name or your last name?”
“What?” the big man asked.
Wyatt wanted to hit Jared to shut him up. “You know, is it something Bishop, or Bishop something?”
The man raised one eyebrow. “Just Bishop to you.”
“Good night, Bishop.” Wyatt spoke quickly at the same time he grabbed Jared’s arm and murmured, “Come on.”
The two boys turned and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. They ran for the bedroom, and when the door was closed behind them, Wyatt turned to face Jared. “You had to ask him, didn’t you?”
“I was wondering. All I ever heard him called is Bishop. That’s not a full name. And he doesn’t even know you call him the Terminator.” As Jared crossed and jumped on the bed, he asked, “What do you want to talk to your dad about?”
Wyatt climbed onto the bed with him. “Business.”
“What?”
“You know, his business. I guess that’s the thing to do, just like Dr.
Love said. He’s not going to take me anywhere this Christmas, so I need to get to know about all his business if I’m going to be able to spend time with him at all.”
* * *
WHEN STEVEN STEPPED OUT onto the street, his disappointment and regret had tempered into a sense of frustration. He’d call Rachel after his meeting with Dr. Love and get the woman’s name. Surely she’d know who had been at her party. Then he’d find her again and see what had happened.
If he could see her one more time, maybe he could figure out what had gone on between them. As he closed the gates behind him, he turned toward the Jaguar, but was stopped when he heard a car door slam and someone mutter a curse that a sailor wouldn’t have minded owning as his own.
He turned to look down the street and, as if his need to see her again made it happen, the blonde came around from in front of an old white Mustang parked by the curb. For an instant she stood there in the night and fog, a shimmering image, then she stepped up onto the sidewalk and brushed her hands against each other as she walked toward him.
As Steven watched, he knew a sense of relief that almost made him light-headed—and for a split second, he had the strangest idea he was looking at her spirit. With fog swirling around her, long, pale hair loose from the combs, haloing her delicately boned face, she moved without a sound, and seemed almost ethereal...until he remembered the oath he’d heard and the slammed door.
“The tow truck didn’t show up?” he asked, and his voice seemed to echo in the street.
Her head jerked up and she stopped about ten feet from him. Even in the low light, he could see the shock on her face, and there was none of the pleasure he’d just felt finding her down here.
“You,” she said softly, and the flat tone of her voice underscored the fact she wasn’t thrilled to see him.
“Yes, it’s me.” He looked at her for a long moment while he tried to figure out just what to say to her that wouldn’t make him sound as if he’d been desperate to see her again. He settled for, “I thought you were going to wait?”
“I had to get down here,” she said as she swiped her hands against each other again. “I didn’t want to miss the truck.”
He looked past her at the empty street, then back at her. “Where is it?”
“What?”
“The truck.”
“Oh, it’s not here yet. He must be having a hard time getting here in the fog.” She looked past him and he could feel her impatience to get away from him. A lot different from the moment he kissed her under the mistletoe. “I need to go back inside to try and call Mark to find out what’s going on.”
She was going to walk away without another word, and he found himself stopping her by making an offer that he hadn’t realized he was going to make. “You don’t have to go back in there. I have a phone in my car. You’re welcome to use it.”
“It’s no trouble going—”
“You might miss the truck while you’re up there.” He pointed out the obvious. “And after waiting all this time, that would be a shame. You can see what’s going on from my car.”
He could tell she was torn about accepting his offer despite his logic. He wished he wasn’t so relieved when she said, “Thanks.” She brushed at her loose hair, which fell around her shoulders. “I’d hate to miss Mark after all of this.”
He took in the sweep of her throat and the way she held her chin up just a bit as she talked. And the heat that had built during the dance started to come back, invading him to beat out the cold and chill of the foggy night.
Quickly, he turned from the sight of her and started for his car. “I’m parked over here,” he said over his shoulder. “The Jaguar.”
He took out his keys, hit the remote security button on his key chain and the car disarmed with a muffled click. She hurried past him and pulled the passenger door open for herself. By the time he got in behind the wheel, she was in the seat next to him.
When the doors were closed and the world was shut out so it was only the two of them in the tight quarters, he knew this could be a mistake. He shifted in the seat to face her in the soft shadows, and he couldn’t remember the last time a woman’s presence had touched him so quickly and deeply. With Jeannie it had been friendship that had deepened into something good and strong. But this was so different.
That brought him up short. Comparing this with the past was as stupid as comparing apples to oranges. It didn’t work and the past was the past. He pushed the Santa tie to one side and picked up the phone in the console and held it out to her. He was a bit surprised that his voice sounded so normal when he spoke. “Just put in the number and push Send.”
She took it without making direct contact with him, and he drew back quickly. As she put in her phone number, he started the car and turned on the heater. He heard the phone beep as the connection was made, then she said, “Hey, Mark, it’s me. Where are you?”
He cast her a slanting look when she snuggled back in the leather seat as warm air started to challenge the invasive chill in the air.
“I figured that was it.” She listened for a moment, then said, “I thought it was flooded at first, but it’s more than that. I’m not sure there’s any spark getting to the distributor. Maybe the coil’s messed up or it could need new wiring. Can you remember when we replaced the harness the last time?”
He leaned against the door and studied her while she spoke like a mechanic. Her shadowed profile was as striking as everything else about her. And it brought back the memory of her against him during the dance, and the taste of her when he kissed her.
“I can’t, either. Just hurry and get here, but be careful.” She paused. “Sure, I’m fine.” She glanced at her wristwatch and Steven could have sworn the watch had the face of Bugs Bunny on it. “I’ve got an hour before it gets tight. See you.”
She turned and held the phone out to Steven. As he took it and hit the End button before putting it back on the cradle in the console, he asked, “What’s going on?”
“He got caught in a tie-up from an accident. But he’s sure he’ll be here in ten minutes. How much do I owe you for the call?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
“Then thanks,” she said as she reached for the door handle.
He spoke up quickly before she could get out and walk away from him. “Don’t go.”
She stopped and looked back at him as she gripped the door handle. “What?”
“You can’t just get out and disappear again.”
He didn’t miss the way her tongue touched her lips, or the tension in her voice when she said, “I’ve got things to do.”
“I’m sure you do, but you can’t go anywhere in that car, and it’s warm in here.” That was an understatement at the moment. “Besides, we need to talk.”
She hesitated as she glanced at him with shadowed eyes. “We do?”
Now that he had her here, he didn’t know where to begin. And it didn’t help that every breath he took was touched by her essence. “I don’t even know your name.”
“I don’t know yours.”
“Steven.”
He watched her look at him through the shadows and wished that his body wasn’t responding involuntarily to her presence. “Steven,” she repeated, and what he’d always thought of as an ordinary name sounded exotic on her tongue. “All right, Steven, I need to explain something.” She clasped her hands in her lap and looked away from him to the foggy night outside. “I don’t know why any of that happened before, and I certainly can’t rationalize it, but it was a mistake.”
He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t to have her push it away as a mistake. “Impulsive, maybe, but hardly a mistake,” he said.
“A mistake,” she repeated as she looked back at him through the soft shadows of the warm car. “Believe me, it was.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know you. You don’t know me. We had some brandy and—”
“A sip of brandy. That doesn’t make either
one of us drunk. Not even close.”
“It was the atmosphere, the holidays, the music, the whole—”
“The mistletoe?”
“Yes, the mistletoe,” she said quickly and touched the tie on the console. The eye kept blinking. “Santa ties—who knows?” she asked as she smoothed the tie with the tips of her fingers. “It was all so festive and I just got carried away.”
He sat back in the seat and gripped the steering wheel with his left hand, but he never looked away from her. “And?” he asked tightly.
“And I don’t do that sort of thing. I mean, I’m not usually so...so—”
“Easy?”
“For heaven’s sake,” she said on an unsteady sigh. “Why are you making this so difficult?”
“What am I making so difficult?” he asked as she drew her hand from the tie.
“Can’t we gracefully get past what...what happened? Can’t I thank you for letting me use the phone, then say goodbye and get on with things? Can’t we just forget about it?”
“Do you want to forget about it?” he asked.
She was silent for a long moment, then he heard her exhale softly before she said, “Yes. I do.”
Chapter Five
Her words seemed to knock the air out of Steven, and the chill from the outside began to invade his being. He stared at her hard, then looked away through the front windshield at the cold, dark night filled with fog. He sure as hell wouldn’t be able to forget it soon, but he wasn’t going to press her for something she didn’t want.
“Can we just start over?” she asked through the shadows.
He’d love to go back to that moment when she ran into him near the ballroom. “I guess so,” he said as he sank back in the seat and stared out at the night. The silence in the car beat on his frayed nerves, and he tried to talk about anything to fill the void. “The fog’s getting thicker.”
“The clouds are definitely getting lower. Welcome to San Francisco at Christmas,” she said, and the feeling that he’d met her before came to him again. And with the sound of her voice came another stirring of awareness that was getting dangerously close to need.
He wasn’t used to not being in control, and he tightened his grip on the wheel as he stared hard at the night. Forget what happened. Forget. “Do you live in the city?” he asked in a voice he knew was a bit flat.
The Christmas Husband Page 6
