A Baby In His Stocking (Harlequin Treasury 1990's)

by Hayley Gardner

  “Were you busy?”

  His lips curled with a glimmer of amusement as he studied her, trying to figure out what she was up to. “I was in the middle of trying to find this Grinch for you, so yes, I guess you could say that.”

  “I was wondering if you’d like to help me out with something.”

  “I thought that was what I was doing.” He leaned his elbows back against the edge of one of the counters and watched her, those darned dark blue eyes wary again. If she was to get him to come with her, she would have to throw him off guard.

  Getting a sudden inspiration, she reached up and straightened the collar of his blue-and-black flannel shirt. Her fingertips brushed against his skin almost of their own accord.

  That got him. Straightening, he gently took her hand and lowered it back down away from him, which she had expected he’d do. What she didn’t expect was that he’d hold it for a few seconds longer than he really had to before he let it go.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

  “I want us to be alone for a while.”

  The responding interest in his eyes was total reflex, Shea realized, but still, a gentle longing for that look to be real threaded through her and tied her up in a knot. The physical chemistry between them was still there, probably always would be. But sadly, without mutual understanding and the fulfillment of each other’s emotional needs, there would never be the everlasting love between them that she craved. She could have sworn they’d almost had it—before she’d asked him for a child.

  “Alone how?” he asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

  “Completely alone and undisturbed—with you. To work out some of this...tension we’ve been under.” Carefully, she lifted her hand back up and ran her finger along his shoulder to his collarbone against the soft flannel of his shirt.

  Jared stiffened, not really wanting her to touch him but unable to bring himself, one more time, to take her hand away. He hated holding back from Shea, trying to be an impenetrable wall so that she would go away and seek the happiness he couldn’t give her. He was tired of not being able to hold her in his arms. Too damned tired of it all—but he had no choice. He had to let her go.

  Or make her leave him alone—for her own good.

  “You’re not trying to start something you can’t finish, are you?” he asked quietly.

  Seeing the warning in his eyes, Shea swallowed and backed off. There was catching a man off guard, and then there was putting her heart in harm’s way. She was dangerously closer to the second than the first.

  “Will you come with me?” she asked before she lost her courage and ran. “Please? You’ll only be gone a couple of hours at most, and I promise you the experience of a lifetime.”

  Jared didn’t know what to think. Shea had always been straightforward with him, but he couldn’t believe, with the divorce so close, that she was inviting him to be alone with her for the obvious reason. So why? It couldn’t be just to talk about their divorce. Even if she wanted to drop the proceedings by claiming she no longer wanted to have a family, he wouldn’t let her do that. In time, she’d come to regret that decision and only end up hating him.

  “Yeah, I’ll go.” This new side of her had him so puzzled he figured it would be worth wasting a couple of hours to go along with her—as long as he remembered to stay nothing more than a casual observer.

  No matter what she wanted.

  “The woods?” Jared remarked as Shea parked her father’s pickup on the edge of a broad expanse of pine trees about five miles outside of Quiet Brook. He watched her take the keys out, put them in her pants pocket and open the door. “From the way you were talking, I was certain you’d take that turn going out to the hotel on the interstate.”

  “Wishful thinking, Jared?” Shea asked with a subdued grin, even though her heart was a lump in her throat with the question. Sitting so close to him for even the short ride out there had her remembering all the times she had lain in bed in his arms, thinking that the world was hers to have and to hold. Pushing those thoughts aside, she got out of the truck, then turned around to look at him. He was watching her intently. Just to give him something more to think about, she added, “Actually, a nice warm hotel would be cozy, but it would ruin the experience.”

  “So where arc we going to have this experience, Shea?” he asked, sounding halfway between amused and cautious.

  “Out there,” she said, gesturing with her hand to the greenery several yards away.

  “It’s too cold out there. It’ll never work.”

  Feeling almost giddy with worry about what was to come, Shea couldn’t resist the banter. “You could always make it work anywhere, Jared. What happened?”

  “Abstinence. I’m out of practice.”

  She continued to search his dark blue eyes, which were glinting with amusement. “I guess at the rate we were going at it, a little celibacy probably did you some good.”

  “Gee, thanks. May I assume I’m facing more of the same now?”

  “You may. Making love was not the reason I brought you out here.”

  “I knew that,” he said solemnly.

  Suddenly, they shared smiles that were almost as good as the first ones of discovery and intimacy, smiles that said they understood each other again, something Shea hadn’t thought was possible. Maybe, her heart told her, just maybe, he wouldn’t be as upset about her news as she’d imagined.

  Leaning down to reach behind the seat, she lifted up the ax she’d left there, backed away, shut her door and rounded the truck to open his. He sat there without moving, regarding her and the ax with shaded eyes.

  “I brought you out here to show you some Christmas spirit.” Giving him a warm smile from her heart, she took a deep breath and blew out frosted air. “We, Jared, are going to cut down a Christmas tree—together.”

  “I don’t have a choice?”

  He wore a deep frown of disapproval that was meant to cut her off at the pass, but she was having none of it. “Jared Burroughs, you’re going to absorb some Christmas spirit—if it kills you. No, you don’t have a choice.”

  “Because you have an ax?” He grinned. “You’ll have to do better than that, sweetheart, to keep me here. An ax won’t even slow me down.”

  “No, but walking will,” she replied sweetly, grinning widely back at him. “I have the keys to the truck”

  Taking a second to consider that, Jared gave her a long glance, and the ax a short one. “One way or the other, I guess I’m a captive audience—although wrestling those keys away from you would probably be a whole lot more fun than hunting up a Christmas tree.”

  “But you won’t go there, Jared.” Her words were half an order and half a reminder—to herself and to him, for she was feeling a delicious ache at the very idea of his hands all over her body. Such traitorous thoughts she did not need right now. Over was over.

  Seemingly giving in, he got out of the truck and slammed the door. With a nod, he indicated the masses of pines to the north. “I assume this is someone’s land?”

  “McCrory’s Tree Farm,” she said cheerfully. “Dad trades a tree for a gift certificate from Denton’s every year. Usually the two of us come out when we’re ready and find the perfect tree together.”

  But this year was different. This year, she’d worked it out so that choosing the family Christmas tree would hold a very special meaning, which was why Jared had to be there.

  Jared didn’t want to participate in this with Shea, and he leaned back against the truck, trying to figure out how he could make her understand that. The joy of Christmas glowed in Shea’s eyes and flushed her cheeks pink. She was having fun at the very thought of choosing a tree. On the other hand, if he went with her, he would only end up saying something that would knock all the spirit right out of her, because he didn’t come close to knowing what that feeling was that made cutting down a tree for her living room such an event for her. He could have been about to pick tomatoes at the supermarket for all he cared.


  “I’ll wait here.” He stared straight at her, knowing there would be an arguments

  After setting the ax on the bed of the truck, she went over to him and took his hands in hers. Even after being out in the cold, her hands were warm, just like the smile lighting her face.

  “Sorry, you’re not getting off so easily. I need you to come with me.”

  “Hell, Shea, I’ll only ruin it for you—”

  She lifted a finger to his lips to make him stop talking. “No, you won’t,” she said. “As long as you’re with me, you won’t. I promise.”

  She had a look in her eyes that told him she wanted this with all her heart, and suddenly he realized that he was unable to deny her something as simple as a tree when he had already denied her a child.

  “All light”

  She glowed with pleasure. Grabbing his hand and the ax, she pulled him with her toward the dirt path worn by many years of Christmas trees being dragged to cars.

  “I usually try to pick a seven footer,” she told him. “The more majestic, the better.”

  He didn’t want to say anything that would dampen her pleasure, so he trailed behind her, keeping his silence. Taking a deep breath, he found himself noticing the smell of pine for the first time since he could remember.

  “What do you look for in a tree?” she asked as they reached the first stand of pine.

  “I’ve never had this particular pleasure,” he said, choosing his words carefully.

  “No tree farms around you, hmm?” Shea commented, giving him a sideways glance without being obvious about it. He wasn’t saying much, but he didn’t seem to be irritated, either. That was good. Feeling a little more hopeful about this plan of hers, she ventured on to fill the silence and keep the mood merry. “I don’t think buying from a lot is as much fun,” she told him. “You don’t get a true impression of a tree until it’s been standing for a couple of hours, but by that time, you’ve already paid for it and it’s too late. Can’t get the perfect tree that way.”

  Which was what she was after. Surveying the tree in front of her, Shea knew it wasn’t right for what she had planned.

  “I wouldn’t know about lot trees, either,” Jared said idly from behind her. “I’ve never gone Christmas tree hunting before.”

  “Your father always picked yours out?” Shea asked, keeping her voice as nonchalant as she could, even though she was excited. They were making progress. Jared had once told her enough about his childhood for her to know he hadn’t been happy and that he’d grown up on a farm with his dad and an aunt who’d died when he was a child. He’d never gone into particulars, saying that he’d rather leave the past alone and live from day to day.

  In order not to overwhelm him with her interest in his childhood that might shut him up again, Shea tried to keep her eyes on the trees, although she was very aware that Jared was never far behind her. She walked toward a pine that looked promising, only to find on closer inspection that one side had stunted branches. No good. Her tree had to perfect.

  “No, I mean we never had a tree in the house.”

  “No tree? How sad!” She turned abruptly to look at him, and the ax in her hand caught and shaved some of the pine needles off one of the fuller branches of the tree next to her.

  “There’s a pine that will never be the same again,” Jared said dryly. A second later, he was reaching out and taking the ax from her. “How about letting me carry that, before I say something that really catches you—or me—by surprise?”

  “You might have a point,” she said, looking at the damage she’d done, and then turning her thoughts back to what was really important—the Christmasizing of Jared. He was so close to her again, and the scent of his aftershave was mingling with the scent of the pines, weaving a spell around her. She swallowed. “You never had a tree, not even one time? You never told me that”

  “It’s not important.”

  Reaching up, she caught the edges of his open jacket and stared into his eyes, wanting him to understand. “Everything about you is important.”

  He didn’t move, and neither did she. She gazed at him, melting inside, wanting to kiss him, wanting him to kiss her, to be husband and wife again...but always, always, aware of the lingering pain caused by knowing that their marriage was so unfixable that a true reconciliation would be impossible.

  Never releasing the light hold she had on his jacket, she continued to look up at him. “I won’t push—but I do care. Please, talk to me.”

  For a minute longer, he continued to look down at her. And then, suddenly, the words started coming.

  “My father didn’t celebrate any holidays, Shea,” he said, his eyes going distant with the memory. “From what my aunt told me, he’d never had much interest in them, but then when my mother died, anything that was a celebration just stopped. No Easter bunny or candy, no Christmas tree, and no presents. Dad didn’t allow even my aunt to bring gifts. Claimed it would spoil me.”

  “How terrible,” she said, her heart going out to the child Jared had been. No wonder he never found any joy in anything; never seemed awash in happiness. The thought of Jared as a little boy, hoping for a Santa Claus and presents that never came, made her grip his jacket tighter, holding the material the way she wanted to hold him. But she didn’t have the right. His intense gaze, now focused on her hands, told her that. Feeling horribly sad, she dropped her hands to her sides. “I’m so sorry, Jared. But why not celebrate the holiday now? You’ve said yourself that the past is over.”

  “I know.” He shrugged. “I don’t see the sense in it, I guess. It’s all pretty commercial and fake anyway.”

  It seemed commercial and fake because he didn’t feel the joy and love in the season, and that made her eyes brim with tears.

  “Aw, Shea,” he said gently, “don’t cry for me.” He reached up to brush an escaping tear from her cheek. “That’s why I didn’t want to come out here with you. I’ve gone and wrecked what should have been a happy trip.”

  “No, you haven’t,” she insisted. “I’m all right.” She was just crying for the little boy Jared had been, waiting for a Santa who never came, and for Jared’s child, who would wait all its life for a daddy who would also never come.

  The tears had to stop, she told herself. She was supposed to be helping him have fun.

  Needing to end this topic of conversation so that she could pull her tumultuous emotions together, she swiped at her eyes with her jacket sleeve. “Let’s get back to work,” she said as jovially as she could.

  As she pretended to turn her attention back to the trees and continued going through the rows of pines, her thoughts remained on Jared. She’d hoped what she had planned for that morning would soften his heart some, but now she realized that she was going to need a miracle to change him—a true Christmas miracle called love.

  Love that couldn’t come from her. She didn’t want to trust whatever feelings she had for him enough to ever call them love again. The huge barrier of their different expectations still stood squarely between them. So where on earth was she going to find the miracle of love to break through to him?

  It was the stillness more than anything that disrupted her thoughts at that moment. Nothing was stirring, and she no longer sensed Jared’s presence nearby. Thinking he had returned to the truck to wait, she headed back the way she’d come, and it was then she realized she heard chopping noises. Frowning, she followed the sound until she found him.

  He was chopping down the tree with the stunted and now partially shaved branches.

  “I don’t want that tree.”

  Swinging again, he ignored her.

  “It’s got a bad side.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  Two more chops, and Shea felt her frustration grow. Her plan was falling apart, and she had to stop the downward spiral before it got any worse.

  “Jared, it’s not a perfect tree. I’m not keeping it.”

  As soon as he finished pushing the tree over, Jared dropped the ax to the gro
und, straightened and skewered her with a grin that made her tingle to her toes despite the fact that the tree he had chosen was not the most perfect one in the world and that that would wreck everything.

  “You see, Shea,” he said in a tone that she’d never heard from him before, somewhere between persuasive and lecturing, “that’s always been your problem. You’ve never understood that perfection can be in the eye of the beholder. Like this tree, for instance. Sure, it’s got a couple of flaws, but it’s a good, fresh tree and it should stay green through New Year’s without losing its needles.”

  Her head tilted as she decided what to say about that. “For someone who never had a Christmas tree, you sure know a lot about them.”

  “When I figured out one Christmas that Santa wasn’t coming, Shea, I pretended. I got myself an encyclopedia and studied pine trees and Christmas customs. I planned for the day when I would be on my own and I would know everything about Christmas that my father didn’t have the heart to teach me. That’s where I learned about the perfect Christmas, Shea. From books.”

  “Oh, Jared, I’m sorry,” she managed to get out.

  As much as Jared had not wanted to spoil her outing, minutes before, when she turned away from him, he’d realized he had. So he’d decided to chop down a tree—any damned tree—so he could go back to Quiet Brook, find their practical joker and get the hell out of her life before he hurt her any more. This one, with its imperfections, had all but beckoned to him.

  But that was crazy, he thought. Trying to ignore the way Shea was looking at him, he picked up the ax and the bottom of the tree and silently began to drag the pine toward the clearing.

  Shea followed him, feeling kind of dizzy, probably from her emotions being hung out to dry. She ought to go sit down and shut up, she supposed, but Jared had just started opening up, and she wanted to concentrate on him. The better she knew him, the better she would know what made him happy, and only then could she change him.