Christian Nelson. And his seeming abandonment of her after they’d made love.
She still couldn’t believe it had happened, that she’d given in so easily. She’d wanted it; she couldn’t deny that. And she’d been so overwhelmed with emotions afterward, things she’d wanted to discuss with him, but then real life had butted in.
And he’d run like a scared little boy with his tail tucked between his legs, never to be heard from again.
That’s what bothered her the most. How he’d never contacted her. Hell, he’d even left the Christmas tree he’d cut down for her on her front porch. She’d hauled it in and put it up herself.
Well, and with a little help from Mindy. That had been the moment she’d discovered her sister’s marriage was indeed falling apart.
“Mama, someone’s here,” Logan announced, and Jane blew out an aggravated breath.
Good lord, now what? She hoped it wasn’t Mindy again. She wasn’t in the mood for her sister and her all-of-a-sudden hellion children. Acting out because their father was gone, they were annoying, and their behavior only seemed to work up her own kids.
“Is it Aunt Mindy?” She knew Logan would recognize her car.
“No. I don’t know who it is.” Logan stood at the window that looked out the front yard, his face pressed against the glass.
“Is it Uncle Mac?” She hadn’t seen her little brother lately, and Mindy had mentioned him when they’d talked on the phone this morning.
“Nooo, I know his car, too.” Logan sounded insulted. Then he pressed his face against the window even more, leaving smudges on the glass. “It’s Captain Nelson! The fire captain, Mama! I knew it was his truck!”
Jane’s heart flopped like a flailing fish in her chest. She wished her son had recognized that truck sooner. It would’ve given her a little more time to prepare.
But prepare for what? Why was he here? What did he have to say? If she were smart, she’d shut the door in his face and demand he never contact her again. But that wasn’t in her blood, to be so rude. And when the doorbell rang and Logan ran to it, screaming like a wild man, she knew she couldn’t avoid him, either.
It was time to face reality. Instead of being rude, she’d give Chris the polite treatment. Listen to what he had to say, and then let him know she didn’t want to see him ever again.
Yes, that’s what she needed to do. What was best for her well-being.
“Hey, Jane. Can I come in?” Chris asked in that deliciously low, sexy voice when she opened the door. He skimmed his gaze up and down her frame as if he had x-ray vision and liked what he saw.
Any other time, she would’ve appreciated his blatant perusal. Tonight? Not so much. His scent reached her immediately, a hint of cologne and clean, fresh soap, as if he’d just showered. His hair curled casually about the back of his neck, and he wore a dark gray Henley that stretched taut across his broad chest, emphasizing his quiet power.
“I don’t know. Are you going to run in a few hours and not call me for the next five days?” Oh, there went the polite route. Where did that come from? She was actually proud of her outburst.
He shuffled his feet and dipped his head, looking embarrassed. Good. “I’m sorry for doing that.”
“You should be.” Oh, another rude comment. Look at her, standing up for herself. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I can’t believe it, either.” He lifted his head, his eyes dark, his expression somber. “I’d ask for your forgiveness, but I figure I have to earn it first.”
“You figured right.” She lifted her chin, strength filling her. She could stand her ground and still get what she wanted.
Because she couldn’t deny it—she did still want Chris. Despite his crappy treatment and seeming abandonment of her, she wasn’t ready to let go. It might be stupid, but she had a feeling about him.
A good one.
“So can I come in?” He waved his hand at the door. “Please?”
Jane opened the door wider and he moved past her, his arm brushing against hers as he walked into the living room where Logan enthusiastically greeted him.
“We’re decorating the tree you cut for us, Captain Nelson!” Logan hopped up and down, pointing at the tree that stood in the corner of the room.
“Yeah, I see that. I like it.” Chris stood with Logan in front of the tree, casting it a critical eye before he glanced in Lexi’s direction. “Hi, Lexi.”
“Hi.” She’d snuck back into the living room, once again focusing on her popcorn stringing task, her mouth screwed up, the tip of her tongue sticking out, a study in concentration.
“Stringing popcorn for the tree?”
Lexi finally glanced up at him. “Yes.”
Chris’s gaze met Jane’s, his eyes golden brown and oh, so warm in the dim light of the room. She only had on a single lamp plus the multi-colored Christmas lights on the tree, wanting an almost magical effect while they decorated. Christmas carols played; Bing Crosby crooned about dreaming of a white Christmas in the background.
“The tree looks great,” he said, reaching out a hand to ruffle Logan’s head. “You look great,” he said pointedly to Jane.
She looked terrible, but she wasn’t going to argue. She wore an old pair of jeans that were so big they bagged all around her and a faded red holiday-themed T-shirt she’d picked up so long ago, she couldn’t even remember where. She was a mess, dressed for decorating and pulling open boxes and creating handmade decorations with her children. Spending an exciting Friday night in with her three kids and cereal for dinner, all of it making her wonder: exactly why was Chris here anyway?
“I guess you should probably go?” She ignored his compliment. Wanted to get rid of him so she could pretend that night had never happened.
Yeah, right.
“Uh, I was hoping I could talk to you,” he said as if he planned on sticking around for a while. She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or irritated at his assumption. “Do you have a minute?”
“Will you help us finish decorating the tree?” Logan tugged on Chris’s hand, desperate to get his attention.
She didn’t want to talk, not yet. To face real feelings and messy emotions…she wasn’t prepared. But she knew she couldn’t avoid the topic—or him—forever.
“I could help out if your mom doesn’t mind.” Chris studied her, didn’t miss a thing with that intense gaze, and she knew he knew he had her squirming.
And he also knew she wouldn’t refuse her children pretty much anything.
“If Captain Nelson wants to help, then I guess we’ll let him.” Nerves made her heart race, her face heat, and she turned away, hunkering down on the floor to go through an old box of ornaments she’d found in her collection.
Handmade ornaments from another time, when Lexi had been so very young and Logan just a baby. Back when Jane had gone through a crafting phase. Hand-painted ceramic ornaments in various Christmas shapes and pinecone owls. Red felt stitched stockings and green felt trees. Stephen hadn’t liked it, said it made the tree look too crass. They’d invited his entire firm to their house for a holiday party and he’d made her take it all down. She’d given Lexi a tree for her room and had used the decorations on it instead.
Well, no more. No more impressing employees or big-deal clients or rich neighbors. Now it was all about a feel good, down home Christmas.
Jane sighed, her fingers clutching so tightly around a pointy pinecone owl it pricked her skin. She sounded so corny in her head, she wondered what was wrong with her.
The big man who’d stopped right next to her was what was wrong. He invaded her space, invaded her thoughts when he had no business to. He’d left her. Left her right after she’d shared with him something she hadn’t shared with anyone else except Stephen. She’d saved herself for her wedding night, much to her husband’s grief and frustration.
Now she’d given it away to the first handsome, sexy man she stumbled upon. Guilt ate her for that still.
Her mama had raised h
er to be a good girl. Right now, she felt like anything but.
“The cogs are moving.” He knelt down beside her, his face so close she could make out the faint lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes, the pale scar just beneath his chin, the seductive softness of his mouth. “You’re thinking so hard I see smoke.”
He was trying to joke, trying to ease the tension between them, and it helped. Just a little. She dropped the owl back into the box. “It’s your fault.”
“Would another, even more sincere ‘I’m sorry’ help matters?” His expression was so earnest, so hopeful. But she didn’t want to make this easy for him. Wanted him to suffer just a little bit more.
“I’d rather know why you didn’t call.”
He blew out a harsh breath. “I—I freaked out,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “What happened between us meant something to me, Jane. It scared me. And I bailed on you like some sort of chicken shit, too scared to face you.”
“Yeah, you did,” she agreed without hesitation.
Chris rested a hand over his heart, a slight smile kicking up the corners of his mouth. “Ouch. Yeah, I probably deserved that.”
“You did. Trust me.” She turned her attention back to the box and withdrew another ornament—this one she’d painted, one of her favorites. A little black mailbox sitting on a tree branch covered in white, sparkling snow and a bright red cardinal nestled within. It reminded her of her grandparents’ mailbox for some reason, and she shook her head.
Sentimental over a mailbox. Now she was really being corny.
“It’s pretty,” Chris said, nodding toward the ornament.
Jane handed it to him and he admired it. “I painted it when Lexi was a toddler. Went through a crazy crafting stage back then.”
“You like to create with your hands, huh? You do good work.” He turned the ornament this way and that, kept it clutched in his hand. “I’ll hang it up. Did you make anything this year?”
“Not really. I can’t do much crafting with my hand now.” She stared down at her left hand and bent her fingers as much as she could. “I can’t even really make a fist.” She missed working with her hands. Had even optimistically brought her sewing machine with her when they moved, in the hopes of using it again.
“I’m sure practicing will help,” he suggested helpfully.
“The pattern I used for my aprons was pretty easy.” And she’d been asked more than once by her mom’s and sister’s friends, who’d seen the aprons she’d made, if she would sew one for them. The machine was set up in the basement, the box of leftover fabric she’d kept nearby. She’d gone through the box a few nights ago, smiling at all the forgotten bright colors and patterns.
Immediately she’d called her mother, who came over the next morning and helped her cut out fabric. She’d messed around with it a bit, thought about making Christmas presents. But would they turn out good enough?
Chris took her hand in his and stroked his thumb over the top of it. His touch sent waves of heat sizzling up her arm, over her entire body. She held her breath, watched in silence as he brought her hand up to his mouth and brushed the softest, sweetest kiss across her knuckles.
“I’m an idiot. Say you’ll forgive me.” His aching whisper twisted her insides, made her entire body throb. As far as an apology went, it was simple yet incredibly effective. “Please.”
It was the please that did it. Oh, she was too easy. “I forgive you. Sort of.” The words stumbled out of her mouth, needy and wanting, and she cleared her throat, tried to clear her head, too.
He smiled, a low chuckle sounded, and all rational thought fled her. In the background, she heard Lexi scold Logan for moving yet another of the tree’s ornaments, but all she could focus on was the glowing look in Chris’s eyes. And the movement of his lips against her scarred hand.
How her scars didn’t seem to bother him whatsoever.
“I’ll make it up to you.” He kissed her again, and if she’d been standing, she would’ve swooned when she swore she felt the barest swipe of his tongue against her skin. Instead, she leaned heavily against the box, thankful it was there to prop her up.
“Make what up to me?” Yes, definitely all rational thought had left, because she had no clue what he was talking about.
He smiled as if he knew he’d scattered her brain cells to the wind. “The way I acted and left you that morning. I bailed on you and I shouldn’t have. I just…panicked.”
“Why? And you not calling these last few days hurt my feelings more.”
Her honesty was like picking at a wound; she saw it in his eyes.
“I gotta tell you…I don’t usually do commitment,” he said, his voice hoarse. As if the words were hard to get out. “I never have. My parents had a…really bad marriage. I learned from them.”
“Not every relationship is bad,” she said softly.
His gaze met hers. “I’m starting to realize that.”
The silence between them grew charged, heavy. She wanted to grab him. Kiss him and drag him back to her bedroom where they could shut the door and become lost in each other.
But then she remembered the children and the tree and the ornaments. They needed to finish decorating, and then she needed to get the kids to bed.
“I’m sorry. I’m a complete ass,” he said, and he brought her palm to his face. She let go of his hand, cupped his cheek, his skin so smooth beneath her fingers, and she stroked him there. His lips parted, his eyes closed, and when he opened them again, the heat and desire she saw reflected in their depths was breathtaking. “Let me make it up to you.”
“What do you have in mind?” She had many things in mind, most of them too scandalous to even consider, since her children surrounded them. But that problem could be solved in a matter of an hour or so.
“Whatever you want.” The look on his face told her he knew where her thoughts just went. And that he wholeheartedly agreed.
Just like that, she forgot about wanting to be a good girl, about not giving in to this powerful, addicting man. Being close to him set her pulse to racing, her blood pounding in her veins, her entire body throbbing with want. For him and no one else.
It was just that simple. And just that complicated.
Chapter Thirteen
“So come on, Jane, spill. Tell me what’s going on with you and Chris.” Mindy stared her down from across the table, the house blessedly quiet, since all the children were in school and Sophia was taking a nap.
Jane shook her head, a little laugh escaping her at the sound of her sister’s voice. Mindy must be desperate for the details. “I can’t reveal all of my secrets.”
“That means you’re having sex with him.” Mindy sighed, the wistful expression on her face undeniable. “I’m so jealous.”
A warm sensation tugged at Jane’s heart at the thought of making her sister jealous. And her skin flushed hot with thoughts of Chris. Naked. In her bed. He’d been there last night, as a matter of fact, had stayed long after the children were in bed. The past few weeks, they’d actually gotten somewhat used to him being around—even Lexi, though she’d asked in the loudest whisper when he was going home.
Jane just smiled through it. It was all she could do.
The second she’d shut the door to Logan’s room after putting him to bed, Chris had pounced, dragged her into her bedroom, and stripped off all of her clothing. Piece by piece, his mouth searching, one bit of flesh at a time.
He’d taken her hard and fast, right there against the wall, and then he’d carried her to the bed. Made love to her so gently, so sweetly, she’d nearly cried.
Okay, she had cried. Tears had leaked from the corners of her eyes, but there was no way she could tell him that. He might freak. And what they’d shared the past two weeks, she didn’t want to risk losing.
“He’s very sweet,” Jane finally mustered.
“Uh huh, that’s why you’re blushing. Even the tips of your ears are red! I don’t think it has anything to do with how sweet he
is.” Mindy sighed again and took a sip from her coffee cup. “I can’t remember what it’s like to feel that way.”
Jane bit her lip. She felt bad for being so happy while her sister suffered. Marty had served her the divorce papers first, had gone against their initial agreement of filing together at the courthouse, and she’d been devastated.
In fact, sitting at Mindy’s kitchen table, Jane could see how badly all of this affected her. Her sister looked as if she hadn’t washed her hair in a few days. It was pulled into a sloppy ponytail, and she wore a baggy sweatshirt and even baggier sweatpants. Her face was pale, her eyes dull.
So far from the Mindy she knew and loved, it was scary.
“Have you finished Christmas shopping?” Jane had—she’d done most of it online so she could avoid the crowds. Now she just needed to wrap. Christmas was less than two weeks away, and it would be upon them too fast, as always.
Mindy snorted. “I haven’t even started.”
“We should go down to Sacramento together and power shop. What do you think? I still need to pick up a few things.” The last bit was a lie, but she didn’t want Mindy to feel bad that she hadn’t started shopping.
Mindy shrugged. “If you want to.”
“Mindy.” Jane reached out, rested her hand on top of her sister’s, startling her. “You’ve got to pick yourself up. For your kids.”
“I’m sure their father will out-gift me, so what does it matter, right?” Mindy drained the last of her coffee, setting the cup onto the table with a loud clatter. “He promised Kyle and Chandler new snowboards. How can I compete with that?”
“It’s not a competition, Mind—” Jane started, but Mindy cut her off with a look.
“It so is. You don’t even know. The second Marty moved out and into his little cottage with his new girlfriend, it turned into a total game for him. What can he do to top what I can offer? I feel like I’m on a reality TV show.” Mindy shook her head.
Jane's Gift Page 14
