The Christmas Husband

by Mary Anne Wilson

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “I’ll go by myself.”

  “Madison, that’s not what Kincaid wants.”

  She stood abruptly. “I don’t care what he wants. It’s what I’m going to do,” she snapped.

  Ron held up his hands and said, “Whoa, where did that come from?”

  From the same space in her that felt empty and horrible all the time. “I’m sorry. I’m on edge.”

  “Do you want the pills to—”

  “No, no pills. I’ll manage.” She turned and headed for the door. “I need to get to the studio.”

  “Madison?”

  She turned at the door. “Yes?”

  “If I don’t see you after the show, have a Merry Christmas.”

  “Same to you,” she murmured and left.

  * * *

  Eleven p.m.

  STEVEN HAD LEFT the house after Wyatt had fallen asleep and Bishop had practically locked himself in the kitchen making a pecan pie for the meal on Christmas Day. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep easily, so he’d taken the car and started to drive.

  Since coming back from Tahoe, he seldom drove around at random at night in the Jaguar. The possibility of turning on the radio and hearing Madison was just too great. And he hadn’t wanted to hear her again. He remembered all too well what her voice had done to him at the beginning, and he wouldn’t take the chance of putting himself through that again.

  But as he drove down the almost deserted street near the bay, he couldn’t forget what Wyatt had said to him earlier. He’d called in to the show and told her about his problems on the air. And she’d helped him.

  Steven held more tightly to the steering wheel as he slowed and pulled into a parking spot near the park that overlooked the bay. He didn’t turn the car off, but sat there with it idling and the heater on. He knew that the only way Madison could help him was to magically have her husband disappear. To magically make herself free and available for him to love.

  In the silence, he stared at the dark waters far below and knew, if he was honest, the only thing that could help him was to exorcise Madison from his heart and mind. And that didn’t seem too likely. Maybe he did need to see her again, or talk to her one more time. Maybe he could put an end to this once and for all by having her tell him that her husband was the most important person to her, that what they did was a huge mistake. Maybe that would shut down this longing in him that never seemed to ease.

  And he knew he had to do that without taking the chance of being in the same space with her again. Or he didn’t know what he would do. Bracing himself, he snapped on his radio, found the right station and knew that, no matter how he prepared himself, he wasn’t ready to hear Madison talking to him out of the shadows.

  “We’re into our last hour of our Christmas Eve program, and as I said at the start of the program, it’s your show. Talk about anything you want. Call and tell me what you want for Christmas and what you want for your future. What the holidays mean to you or why you wish they’d just disappear. We’ve got lines open for your calls.”

  She gave three numbers, then said, “I’ll be right back after a word from our sponsor, the Harrington Agency.”

  “Damn it,” Steven muttered as the sudden and intense response he had to the sound of her voice rocked him. But he knew he couldn’t stop now. He reached for the car phone.

  He punched in one of the numbers she’d given out, and after two rings, it was answered with, “Good evening and welcome to the hot line for the Ask Dr. Love Show.” I’m Harry. Please state your name, first only, your location, no address, and your question for the doctor.”

  Steven took a tight breath, then said, “My name is...John’s father. I’m calling from San Francisco.”

  “Your son called in before, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And what’s your question for the doctor?”

  How do I get my life back? he thought, but ended up saying, “I want to ask the doctor about a relationship I was involved in.”

  “I don’t know if there’s going to be enough time to get your call on the air, but please hold and I’ll check. If I get you on, please turn down your radio when you’re told to.”

  Steven didn’t get a chance to respond before he was put on hold and music started playing in his ear. “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” He cringed and sank back in the seat. This was stupid, really dumb, and he almost hung up, but as the thought formed, the song broke off and Harry was back on the line. “You’re in luck. You’re up next, so please turn the radio down.”

  Steven reached to press the Off button, then sat back in the silence. From nowhere, he heard Madison talking to him. “Hello. This is John’s father from the city. John’s a boy who called in a while ago with the problem of a friend of his. Hello, John’s father. How can Dr. Love help you on Christmas Eve?”

  Steven closed his eyes so tightly that he saw colors explode behind his lids, and the hand holding the phone gripped it so tightly the plastic could have snapped. He moved the receiver away from his ear, ready to hang up, but her voice was there again.

  “Are you still there?” she asked.

  He put the receiver back against his ear and managed a single word. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now what’s on your mind this Christmas Eve?”

  He took a breath, then said, “My son said you helped his friend, so I thought you might be able to help...my friend.”

  Madison closed her eyes as the voice came to her over the line. She was imagining it. She had to be. Wishful thinking. Masochism. Whatever it was, she was imagining that Steven was calling in, that he was the father of John. “You have a friend with a problem?”

  “Yes.”

  “The same friend your son had?”

  “No. My son’s friend is doing just fine. It’s his father who needs help.”

  Steven. She wasn’t imagining it at all. And John was Wyatt? It all made such painful sense. “What sort of help?”

  For a long moment there was no sound and she had a panicky second where she thought he’d hung up. But as she started to hit the button for Donny to catch the call, he was there, talking again. “It’s a relationship he’s been involved in.”

  She touched her tongue to lips that were cold and a bit unsteady as she stared at the flashing monitor screen that showed the current call. John’s father, S.F., a relationship problem.

  “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “He met a woman under strange circumstances, let himself get close to her and had to pull out of it.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s married, and he’s never been involved with a married woman. He can’t be.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned forward, resting her elbow on the console and pressing her hand to her eyes to block out everything around her. “So he left?”

  “Yes.”

  “He didn’t tell her why he left, did he?”

  “No. He just left.”

  She knew Donny was watching along with the technicians in the booth, but she couldn’t look up. She stayed very still and said, “Why does she think he left?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she thinks his job was over, or maybe she doesn’t care.”

  She could feel the sting of tears behind her lids. She cared so much she felt as if her pain had a life of its own. “What if she cared?”

  “She’s married.”

  “What if she wasn’t married?”

  He was silent for a moment, then said flatly, “She’s married.”

  “But what if she wasn’t?”

  “She said she was.”

  She pressed her hand harder on her eyes and spoke into the mouthpiece. “What if she told you that because she had to? Because she had an image to keep intact, because she didn’t have a choice?”

  “She wasn’t the kind to lie.”

  “What if she’s just human and agreed to the lie for reasons that don’t even seem to matter now?”

&n
bsp; She could hear him take a breath over the wire, then he said, “Is she married?”

  She opened her eyes and swiped at the moisture there. She took a breath that was very unsteady, then said, “If she wasn’t married, what would you do?”

  “Is she married?” he repeated.

  She saw Donny motioning frantically to her monitor and she glanced at it. A message was flashing at the bottom of the screen. What in the hell is going on?

  She bit her lip and whispered into the mouthpiece, “I don’t think she ever was married.”

  As she said the words, static came on the line, then a dial tone sounded in her ear. She hit the button for the line, but the connection was broken. Donny knocked on the glass and gave her the signal to cut to commercial. She was blank for a moment, then Donny held up a card and she read straight from it.

  “Now we’re going to take a break to hear from one of our sponsors, the Tickle Pink Inn.”

  The next moment the music came up, and Madison hit the button to connect her with the control booth. “Donny, get that call back.”

  He shrugged at her through the glass. “Sorry. The connection is gone,” he said over her headset.

  “Then find out where he was calling from.”

  “Can’t do. He was on a mobile phone.”

  Madison sank back in the chair and looked at the wall clock. Ten minutes to midnight. Ten minutes. Then she’d get out of here and try to find Steven. She had to find out why he called her here, and she needed to figure out why he’d made love with her. And why she couldn’t forget him.

  * * *

  The Twelfth Day of Christmas

  MADISON RAN DOWN the hallway to her office five minutes after she’d wrapped up her program and pushed open the door. As she hurried into the dimly lit room, she ran directly into someone. She struck the person hard, heard a rush of air being forced out of a set of lungs at the same time she tangled with the body and fell forward to the floor.

  The past ran into the present when she rolled onto her back and looked up. Steven was over her, and the world ground to a stop. His hands were on the floor by her shoulders, bracing his weight above her, and his hazel eyes were on her.

  In that split second she took in his image—the sandy hair mussed, the brackets that framed his mouth, the slight suggestion of the beginnings of a new beard shadowing his jaw. The way his nostrils flared with each rapid breath he took, and the heat brushing her face.

  He was here, and just the sight of him blotted out everything, all the misery and the confusion of the past week. But she didn’t move, afraid if she did she’d find out she’d had more of those pills mixed with brandy and she was hallucinating this whole thing. If she was, she didn’t want to know. Not yet.

  Then he spoke, the voice of a real man, a low, breathless whisper that ran riot over her nerves. “We have got to stop meeting like this,” he said.

  “I should watch where I’m going.”

  “I called Dr. Love.”

  “I know. About a friend.”

  “About me,” he said roughly. “She said you weren’t married. Did she lie?”

  She reached up and touched his chest. The feeling of his heart pounding under her fingertips made her tremble, but she never looked away from him. “Do you have some time for...for an explanation?”

  He shifted back from her, then stood. But before she could mourn the loss of contact, he had her by her hand and gently eased her to her feet. Then he let go and stood in front of her, not touching, but so close she could almost feel each breath he took. “I’ve got all night, if you just tell me the truth.”

  She found herself moving back to keep from reaching out to touch him just to make sure he was as real as she thought he was. Turning from him, she went to the windows and looked out at the city with the flashes of Christmas lights everywhere. She took a deep breath, then crossed her arms on her breasts and spoke in a low, quick voice.

  “I lied to you because I didn’t have a choice. I took over this program from the original Dr. Love, and Ron Dial didn’t want to upset the listeners by changing hosts right then, so I inherited the original’s bio, down to and including a long-suffering, wonderful husband.”

  When she stopped speaking, the silence was almost palpable, then she heard Steven move and he was right behind her. His hands spanned her waist, then he gently drew her back until she was leaning against the length of his body. She closed her eyes tightly at the overwhelming onslaught of feelings that his touch brought with it.

  No matter what this man did, or what he was, she wanted to stay like this forever. The hunger in her grew when he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot by her ear. “I’m not married,” she breathed.

  “Divorced?” he whispered hoarsely against her skin.

  “No.”

  “Widowed?”

  “No.”

  “Annulled?”

  “I’ve never been married,” she said in a voice she barely recognized as her own.

  He moved back, then slowly turned her around until she was facing him. When she opened her eyes, he was there, watching, waiting. And she knew in that moment that loving this man was the best and the easiest thing she’d ever done in her life. And the scariest. He’d never mentioned love, yet he was here, and he wasn’t leaving.

  Hesitantly, she touched his chest, and she could feel his heart thundering under her palms. “Why are you here?”

  “I had to know.”

  “Why?”

  He framed her face with his hands and his thumbs slowly stroked her cheeks. “I had to come. I had to see you and touch you and find out what the truth is.”

  “Now you know,” she said softly.

  “Yes,” he said, his hold on her trembling. “I know.”

  “And?”

  “And...” He slowly lowered his head and would have kissed her, but she turned her head slightly so his touch feathered along her jawline.

  When he drew back, she knew that it would have been so easy to kiss him, to throw caution to the wind and let reality be damned. But she couldn’t. Not when her whole life depended on what she did now. “I...I have to know one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Why did you make love with me at Tahoe?”

  He almost smiled, but the expression faltered, and when he spoke it was on a low groan. “Because I loved you then.” He took a trembling breath before he finished, “And I love you now.”

  “Oh, Steven,” she breathed as her world settled into perfect order for the first time in what seemed an eternity. She moved closer, circling his neck with her arms, and buried her face in his chest. “Oh, I love you.”

  His hold on her tightened, and he pressed his lips to her hair. “Oh, God,” he groaned. “It seems like forever since I’ve held you and made love to you. How’s the lock on your door?”

  She moved back a bit to look up at him. “Broken. It’s never worked.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.”

  “We could go to my place, but Mark, he’s pretty protective, and...”

  “He reports to your brothers and your family.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “My place is out. Wyatt’s sleeping, but Bishop’s up making remarkable pecan pies for tomorrow.”

  “He’s really your housekeeper?”

  “Until after New Year’s when my regular housekeeper gets back.”

  “Then where? A hotel?”

  “I know where we can be completely alone. Come on. My car’s downstairs. We’ll leave yours and—”

  “The Mustang’s in Mark’s garage again. It blew a head gasket.”

  He laughed suddenly, a wonderful sound that echoed in the room. “I love that car of yours.” His voice rumbled against her cheek. “If it wasn’t such a temperamental animal, I never would have run into you at the agency, or found the mistletoe, or found you.”

  “God bless the Mustang.”

  “Amen,” he breathed, then kissed her quickly and fiercely. “Wyatt was absolutel
y right about you.”

  “Right about me? How?”

  “He said you’re nice and pretty and real smart and that you could help me with my problem. He just didn’t realize you are the answer to my problem, the answer to everything. And he didn’t realize that he was talking about the woman I love and want to marry.”

  “What?” she breathed.

  A degree of uncertainty flashed in his eyes. “Madison, will you take on a ten-year-old who has a penchant for calling radio talk shows, and who thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread?”

  “Marry a man who wears a tie with a blinking Santa on it?”

  “The tie?”

  “You left it at the Kincaids’. I’ve got it in my purse.”

  “Tell me the battery died.”

  “Dead as a doornail.”

  “It’s not mine.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “So will you take on the child and his father who loves you so much that he can’t imagine a life without you? A man who wants you every day and night for the rest of our lives?”

  “Oh, yes,” she whispered as tears of happiness stung her eyes. “Oh, yes.”

  He shifted to slip his arm around her shoulders and urged her toward the door. “Come on. If we don’t leave now, I won’t be responsible for what the cleaning staff could walk in on. And there’re a few things I need to explain about me and what I am and what I do and why I’ve done things.”

  She stopped, and when he looked down at her, she asked simply, “Do you love me?”

  “I told you I do.”

  Madison smiled up at him and drew him toward the door and spoke a simple, binding truth. “Then no matter what you do, or what you are, it’s okay. I love you.”

  Epilogue

  The shadows in the bedroom on the top floor of the agency were broken only by the pale glow of a partial moon in the dark sky. The bed Rachel had left behind was a huge four-poster, made from massive pieces of dark wood and carved with ornate pineapple and cherub designs.

  It faced a bank of windows that overlooked the city, and Steven held Madison to him, skin against skin, her heart beating close to his. Peace seemed a feeble word for what he felt at that moment. Happiness was only a little better. He hadn’t even known how lonely he was until she was there. And now that loneliness had been banished.