Silhouette Christmas Stories Page 13

  Her life was predictable, secure, just the way she wanted it to be. She was independent and in control, also just the way she wanted to be. And she was happy. Carroll took one last lingering look out the window and turned away. She was happy.

  Upstairs, she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to her ears, trying to ignore the haunting refrain that had made it impossible to sleep.

  I won't desert you.

  Late the next afternoon, Carroll decided to brave the evening traffic so she could drive Christy into town. They wanted to be in the park when Kris turned on the first bank of lights. It was a long-standing tradition on their part, one that not even a cast and crutches could prevent.

  "Will we eat at Barney's?" Christy asked.

  "Don't we always?"

  "Can I get a hamburger and a malt?"

  "Don't you always?"

  "Then we'll walk over to the park?"

  Carroll nodded. "Yep."

  "Then we'll walk all through the park and look at all the scenes?"

  "Um-hmm."

  "The lights only stayed on a couple of seconds last year," Christy pointed out. "There wasn't much to see."

  "True. We're hoping that won't happen this year."

  "Then we'll go visit all the stores?"

  "Every one of them. Do you have your shopping list and your money?"

  Christy patted the front pocket of her jeans. "Right here."

  "Good. Now all we have to do is figure out how to keep your toes warm."

  "I think I've got that covered." Slade leaned against the doorjamb holding two large socks.

  "Slade!" Christy turned around and beamed at him, doing a little jig, one crutch just grazing her mother's toes. "Everything's just like I told you. We're going to eat at Barney's, then go to the park, then go shopping. Aren't you glad you decided to come?"

  "Very, squirt." He motioned for her to sit on the large upholstered chair and went down on one knee. Working a thermal sock over her toes and the surrounding cast, he said, "But it's your mother's party, and maybe she'd rather just go with you."

  "Oh, no, she wouldn't! Would you, Mom?"

  Looking from imploring blue eyes to provoking gray ones, Carroll gave up. She knew a lost cause when she saw one. "The more the merrier," she said dryly.

  "Thank you." He nodded in her direction. "Dinner's on me tonight."

  Christy bounced in the chair. "Great! Can I have a hot fudge sundae?"

  He pulled the sock up as far as it would go, then began working a wool one over it. "You may have whatever your mother allows you to have," he told her.

  "I was thinking of ordering you a vegetarian plate," Carroll warned, pulling coats, scarves, hats and gloves from the closet. "All green veggies."

  Christy grinned. "They don't really have stuff like that at Barney's," she assured Slade.

  They used the station wagon, so Christy would have room to stretch out her leg. For once Carroll was grateful for her daughter's nonstop chatter. She identified every house for Slade, telling him the names of the owners and all their children, describing pets when they existed.

  It would have been an awkward ride without her, Carroll admitted, because Slade's words still hung heavily between them. At least, as far as she was concerned, they did. She didn't know what to say to him. Obviously something needed to be said, but just as obviously, now was not the time. Not with Christy along.

  "We're in luck," Christy said to Slade as her mother pulled into a small lot by the park. "The tourists only get out of their cars to visit the stores. Then they get back in and drive around to look at the lights. They don't know that the best place to be is in the park."

  "That's right," Carroll agreed. "And we don't tell them. Come on, we'd better get a move on if we're going to eat before Kris turns on the lights."

  Eating at Barney's was a bit like inviting all the neighbors in for dinner, Slade decided. Almost everyone in the place was a local, and almost all of them had something to say about the Christmas display.

  Lindy from the boutique stopped at their booth with a tall, slim graying man who pumped Slade's hand. "Hi, I'm Tom Miller. Lindy tells me you're the man who's helping Kris with the lights. Can't tell you how long we've been waiting for this. We all thought they were going to come on last year, and they did- for about five seconds." He shook his head. "Then we had a power failure to end them all, and we lost most of our regular lights for about an hour. Sure hope you two have it figured out this time. Did Lindy tell you about the TV coverage?"

  Slade nodded. "I wish I could say that things are going to be-"

  "Mr. Ryan?" An elderly woman with blue tinted hair eased in beside the Millers and gently nudged them on their way. "I'm Matilda Gateway, president of the Woman's League, and I want to express my appreciation for your efforts on our behalf. No, don't try to get up, please. It's impossible in a booth. We are all most grateful to you. Kris says your help has been invaluable. We've waited for this Christmas Eve celebration for years, and now, finally, we will have it. Imagine, it's just two weeks away!"

  That was only the beginning. Slade's food grew cold as one person after another stopped by the booth with assurances that they were looking forward to the festivities on Christmas Eve.

  Carroll touched his hand, wincing as it clenched into a fist. "Slade, I'm so sorry," she whispered miserably while Christy was waving to a friend. "I had no idea it would be like this."

  His eyes narrowed. "Kris hasn't told a soul that there's a problem with the rest of the lights, has he? Are you finished?" he asked abruptly, looking at his watch. "We should probably start walking. At least we know these lights are coming on."

  Anticipation was in the air. People streamed into the park, calling greetings and stamping their feet to keep warm. Most of them were hopeful, but as one man pointed out, they had felt the same way the past year and the ones before that. As the hour approached, silence fell.

  There was a collective gasp as the lights went on, spontaneous applause as the animated scenes began to bob, teeter and whirl. It was spectacular, Slade admitted. He was impressed. So was the crowd.

  There was no doubt about it; Kris had done an impressive job. Everyone in the park said so. They told Slade and Carroll and Kris himself, when he strolled grandly down the avenue. Kris beamed and promised a grand finale on Christmas Eve.

  Slade stared at him impassively and muttered to Carroll, "I can't take any more of this. Let's get out of here." They wound their way through the park, Christy tucked protectively between them, heading for the stores.

  "Mom, look over there!" Christy pointed. "There's Mac and Red and all the other guys. I bet they came up just to see the lights tonight. Hey, Mac!" She waved and picked up speed.

  The marines, eleven of them, turned at her call, then swept forward, surrounding them. Mac grinned down at Christy. "After all our work, we had to come and see what it looked like."

  "Are you coming up for Christmas Eve?" Carroll asked.

  He nodded. "None of us have enough time to get home, so we'll all be here."

  "We'll look forward to seeing you," Carroll told him as they all turned in the direction of the shops. "Remember, you're invited for dinner."

  As they strolled down the illuminated walk, Mac dropped behind with Slade. In a troubled voice, he said, "I don't see how the old man can add another fifty per cent to all this." He gestured at the brilliant display.

  "He can't."

  The two men exchanged glances.

  "He's really setting himself up for a fall."

  "A big one," Slade agreed. "And to make matters worse, they're talking about getting TV coverage for the big event."

  Mac stared at him. "You're kidding."

  "I wish I was."

  "Can't you stop it?"

  Slade shrugged. "Not me. I'm new around here. This thing is like a snowball rolling downhill, getting bigger and faster with every turn. Kris wants more lights." He gestured to the people around them. "They want more lights. The whole town wa
nts more lights. So in two weeks they're going to have TV cameras on hand to record the biggest fizzle in history."

  "So what are you going to do?"

  Slade swore. "What am I going to do? Nothing. Kris asked me for advice, and I gave it. I told him it was impossible."

  "Then what happened?" Mac finally asked.

  "He didn't believe me. He said we'd just have to find a way to make it work. I would have to find a way to make it work."

  "Oh, jeez."

  "Exactly."

  Carroll looked at the sleeping girl in Slade's arms. "Thanks for carrying her up. I never would have made it."

  "My pleasure." And it was. His arms tightened reflexively around Christy before he bent down and placed her on the bed. "Want me to make some coffee while you tuck her in?"

  Downstairs, as he measured the coffee, he thought of Carroll's wary glance and resigned nod. She looked about as thrilled as someone leaning against a stone wall, waiting for the firing squad to appear. Watching the thin stream of coffee trickle into the glass pot, Slade wondered how it would feel to have her face light up when he walked into a room, to share with the rest of her family the soft look of joy that deepened the blue of her eyes.

  He leaned against the counter and forced himself to relax. He would know. Sooner or later, he would know.

  Chapter Eight

  "Why so grim?" Carroll stood in the doorway, an inquiring expression on her face. "Something happen to the coffeepot?"

  He moved aside and gestured. "It's fine. I was just thinking."

  "About Kris and the lights? I'm sorry he got you involved in all this." She took two mugs out of the cupboard, and reached for the powdered cream.

  "Forget the lights. Forget Kris."

  Carroll's hands stilled, and he could see tension in the set of her slim shoulders. "Then what-"

  "Us. You and me. Slade and Carroll."

  Apprehension and relief mingled somewhere deep within her. Finally. No more waiting for the other shoe to fall. No more pretending. Now they could talk it out and put it behind them.

  She chose her words carefully, the ones she had rehearsed in the dark of the night. She kept her voice firm. Friendly. Kind. "Us? You make it sound as if we're a couple. We're not. There's a Slade Ryan who lives over there-" she pointed in the direction of his house "-and a Carroll Stilwell who lives here with her family. Two separate people, Slade. Neighbors, but that's all. Please don't read any more into it than there is."

  "That's all?" He flashed a smile that was a distinct challenge. "Friends? Maybe not even that, if what you say is true. Acquaintances?"

  She sighed, eyeing his smile warily. It made her think of a cat about to pounce. She didn't trust him. Not at all. She might have known he wouldn't make this easy. "Friends," she murmured. "Definitely friends."

  He shook his head. "No."

  "No?" Her breath caught somewhere deep in her lungs.

  "Uh-uh." He lounged against the counter and extended his hand. "Come here and I'll prove it."

  Carroll watched the strong hand as if it were a snake. She might have known he would have something up his sleeve! In his own quiet way, Slade was just as devious as Kris. "No. I don't need proof." She snatched up the mugs, filled them and handed him one.

  Calmly, he put it on the counter and held out his hand again. "All you have to do is take my hand."

  "That's all?"

  He grinned at her skeptical tone. "No."

  "Then what?" It was like pulling teeth to get anything out of him.

  "Kiss me. And then tell me we're only neighbors."

  Carroll tried to add cream to her coffee and realized that her hand was shaking. Kiss him? She might as well rent a billboard advertising the fact that he was driving her crazy. She shook her head and cleared her throat. "I don't see what that would prove."

  "I think you do. I think that's why you're so nervous."

  "I'm not nervous!" she said stoically, then dropped the spoon and sprayed coffee all over the sink. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a calming breath. "No." Her voice was definite. "I don't believe in playing games to solve problems."

  He kept his hand where it was, waiting for hers. "It's no game, honey. This is real life. If you can kiss me and tell me it means nothing to you, I'll go away and leave you alone."

  He wasn't going to move, she realized, knowing it with sudden certainty. He would stay right there, in his own stubborn way, holding out his hand until she proved that he was wrong. Once she did, he would go. Ignoring the feeling of loss that washed over her, she told herself briskly that it would be for the best.

  And what would it take? Three seconds? Five? Ten or fifteen, at the most. Fifteen seconds compared to hours of silent pressure? To a life turned upside down? As far as she was concerned, there was no contest. She could do anything for fifteen seconds-hold her breath, stand on her head, anything. Even kiss Slade and convince him that she didn't feel a thing.

  Slade knew from the tilt of her chin that he had won. The first round, at least. She would come to him and try to make her body lie, but it wouldn't. Because it couldn't. He knew that from their first kiss.

  "All right." Carroll turned to face him, looking like a martyr being led to the lions. She stepped forward, clearly intending to give him a swift peck on the lips, faltering only when his hand reached out to grasp hers.

  He stayed where he was, leaning against the counter, and brought her to him slowly, letting her feel his hunger. He slid his hands into the back pockets of her jeans and urged her closer. She was soft and warm and smelled of summer flowers.

  The instant he touched her, Carroll knew she had made a mistake. She was tucked in the cradle of his parted legs, her body off balance and lying along his. He was hard and hot, and obviously not in a hurry. Her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, and his big hands smoothed down her back and settled on her buttocks, pressing her closer.

  "Slade-"

  "Shh."

  "This isn't-"

  "Yes, it is."

  His voice was deep, rumbling against her ear. The tip of her nose touched his neck, and he smelled of something spicy and clean and very male.

  Her arms slid around him and she arched closer when his lips touched her earlobe. Shivering, she uttered a soft, throaty whimper. "No."

  He chuckled. "Umm."

  "I don't want this."

  "You've got it."

  "It's too complicated."

  "We'll make it simple."

  When he lowered his head, her mouth met his, willing and oh so sweet, tasting like honey. And her body didn't lie. It melted into his like sunshine, gifting him with her own special brand of warmth.

  When his fingertips skimmed her hair, she sighed. He was a big man who knew how to be gentle. Quiet and intense, Slade was a man who touched emotions in her she hadn't even known she had, made her blood roar like a freight train and sparkle like wine. Slade was a man who-

  Startled, she dropped her hands to his chest and pushed. He lifted his head and slowly, reluctantly, let her go. She stepped back and took a deep breath, finishing her last thought. Slade was a man who would be big trouble in her life.

  Gray eyes gleamed down at her. "Well, what's the verdict? Friend, acquaintance, significant other-or husband material?"

  "Don't be cute," she said coolly.

  He waited.

  "All right! So I was wrong."

  "Ah."

  "In a way."

  "What way?"

  "We're more than neighbors."

  He smiled.

  "But that's as far as it goes."

  He waited again.

  "I told you before. I like my life just the way it is. Peaceful, uncomplicated-"

  "Dull?"

  "Maybe." She stared at him. "But that's the way I like it. Darn it, Slade, we're no good for each other."

  "Translated, that means I'm no good for you." He folded his arms across his chest, his level gaze a challenge.

  She didn't flinch. "Exactly."<
br />
  "How do you know?"

  "I don't," she admitted. "Not for sure. But I'm not going to take the risk. Go back to your work, Slade. Help Kris, if that's what you want to do, but leave me alone."

  He reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm going to be around for a long time. You might as well get used to me."

  Chapter Nine

  Slade left Carroll standing in the middle of the kitchen and walked across the pine-studded ground to his house. He looked up at the black sky and counted the few stars visible between the scudding clouds, then buttoned his shearling jacket. After opening the door and walking straight through to the office, he dropped into his chair and stared at the blank computer screen.

  He didn't know if forcing a confrontation had been the worst idea he'd ever had, or the best. And if Carroll's stunned expression was any indication, he might not find out for quite some time. She hadn't looked like she was in the mood to make any rash decisions. Which was precisely as it should be, he reflected grimly. This was something she had to decide for herself. Because as much as he loved her, ached for her, there was one thing he couldn't do for her.

  He couldn't give her trust.

  And nothing would work for them without it. Especially not marriage. They both knew that. She believed that most men were as faithless as her father and that blockhead Jeffrey, and there wasn't a thing he could do to change her mind. He couldn't force her to believe in him. He didn't want her to marry him, then wake up each morning and look at him with eyes that wondered if he would be gone before nightfall. He shuddered. No, he could handle a lot, but not that.

  Determination narrowed his eyes. Carroll didn't know it, but she needed him as much as he needed her. She needed to know that a man could love her the way he did, that he would still be around when the time came to celebrate their fiftieth anniversary. Somehow, he would convince her. He would give her a little more time if that was what she needed. Or if she needed prodding, he would prod.