Holiday Bound (8 page)

As if she sensed his gaze on the front of her sweater, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts in a guarded gesture and sat down stiffly on the opposite end of the couch from him.

“Do you have some kind of battery-operated radio? Something so we could hear the weather report on the highway conditions?”

“Don’t tell me you’re holding out for Mitchell to drive through a blizzard.”

She shot him a frosty look. “If you want to know the truth, I’m anxious to know when I can leave. Is it any wonder? There aren’t many people who would choose to put up with your rudeness for long.” She shook her head as she glared at him. “For the life of me, I can’t imagine…”

Fury flared in his brain when her voice faded. He set his book aside and placed his arm on the back of the couch, leaning toward her. “What can’t you imagine? How debonair Mr. Smooth Mitchell Carradine could have such an animal for a son?” His eyes narrowed when she started to say something, but then stopped herself. “That
was
what you were thinking, wasn’t it? You didn’t seem to mind it rough last night.”

“Stop it.”

His mouth twisted in frustration when he heard the tremor in her low voice.
Jesus
. This was going from bad to worse. It’d been so good holding her while she slept and the sex had been
beyond
great. How could she go and ruin it all by saying it was a mistake? By comparing him negatively to his father?

By saying that their lovemaking had been a
crime
?

He noticed the paleness of her cheeks and knew he needed to retreat, like it or not. He leaned away from her, granting her some distance.

“So. You regret it all, is that it? You want to just pretend like it didn’t happen?” he asked evenly.

“I told you I wanted to talk about it like adults. You’re the one who insists on being such a…a…
bullying brute
instead!”

“So for clarification sake—talking about us making love last night
like adults
involves you calling it a
crime
.”

Pink stained her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that. You misunderstood me.”

He raised his hand from the back of the couch and gave a permissive wave. “Go on, then, by all means.

Her usually velvet-like eyes didn’t look so soft at the moment. “It would help if you stopped being so sarcastic, Alex.”

That made his anger bubble up to the surface again. “Excuse me for the weak defense of a sharp tongue. See, the thing of it is, Angeline, I don’t regret it like you do. So it’s not really a picnic to sit here and listen to you tell me how it was all a mistake. If that,” he pointed significantly to the floor where they’d nearly scorched a burn mark in the carpet last night, “was a mistake, I’ll gladly forego being right for the rest of my life. So
don’t
sit there and tell me I have to take your rejection of me like a nice little boy.”

It took him a second to take in the shocked expression on her face. It took an additional second for him to realize he no longer sat back casually, but was leaning toward her aggressively.

Had he really just said that as loud as he thought he had?

He sighed in frustration and leaned back again. So much for giving her some distance.

“Alex…I’m not rejecting you.”

He peered at her warily, not sure what to make of her softened tone. “What
are
you trying to do then?”

She threw up her hands helplessly. “Are you going to try to tell me you’re not confused about all this? Unsettled? That what happened between us makes perfect sense to you?”

“I think I
have
been telling you that,” he muttered dryly. “It’s you who doesn’t want to hear it.”

She stared at him incredulously, her mouth hanging open.

“Alex, I was seeing your father. Have you forgotten that? It may not bother you that you’ve betrayed him, but it bothers me.”

“You two couldn’t have been that serious if you hadn’t even slept together yet.”

She made a disbelieving sound. “
That’s
what you think? That since your father and I hadn’t slept together yet, I was fair game?”

“I told you yesterday I wanted you from the first second I saw you four years ago. There’s nothing unusual about that, let alone
criminal
about it. I’m a healthy straight guy, you’re a healthy straight female…who’s to say us being together is wrong?”

“Are you so angry with your father that you would do this to hurt him?”

He started, caught off guard by the double blow of both her words and the sudden evidence of her vulnerability. He hadn’t told himself to move, but suddenly his hand cradled her jaw and his thumb whisked across her satiny cheek, as if trying to erase that lost look from her face.

“My making love to you had nothing to do with Mitchell Carradine.
Nothing.
Do you understand me?”

He found his gaze pinned to her full, pink lips. Against his will, a rush of heat swept into his cock. He stiffened against his thigh.

Jesus
. He really was the animal Angeline accused him of being.

Her lips parted and he found himself drawing closer.

“But, Alex…you don’t even know me.”

He blinked at her whispered words. He opened his mouth to tell her he knew enough. His reaction to her was singular in his experience. Maybe she was right to think of him as a brute, because the fact of the matter was, Alex didn’t even bother to logic out his overpowering need to possess her. He may be single-minded, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew what he wanted when he saw it, and he wasn’t stupid enough to deny it when the object of his desire was suddenly thrown into his path. There was a time for rational thought and there was a time for action.

Alex took one more look at the doubt and confusion on Angeline’s face and decided now might be the time for a little thoughtful re-trenching, however.

He brushed the pad of his thumb across her full lower lip—retreating didn’t mean he was a saint—and let his hand drop to his lap.

“So let me get to know you better.” When he saw the suspicion that flickered into countenance, he couldn’t help but smile. “Not like that. Not now, anyway. Let’s do something together.”

“Alex, there’s a blizzard going on outside. There’s no electricity. We can’t even watch television. What are we going to
do
?”

He could tell by her wary look that she still suspected of him of trying to get her beneath him again. Not that he
didn’t
want to get her beneath him, above him…in front of him, restrained to his bed, screaming in pleasure and need…but
hell
. In all reality, he
did
also want to listen to her voice, see her smile…find out everything about her.

He shrugged. “It’s Christmas Eve. We could pull out my old Christmas decorations, see if there’s anything that’s not broken, moldy, or serving as a mouse’s house.”

A doubtful smile curved her lips. “You always wait to put up your Christmas decorations on Christmas Eve?”

“No,” he said, sounding more matter of fact than he felt as he stared at Angeline’s mouth. He stood. There was a sealed box of decorations shoved into the back of one of the spare bedroom closets, if he recalled correctly. He wasn’t a Scrooge, necessarily, but the decorations up at the lodge had been more than sufficient for him when it was just him in the house.

“I wasn’t going to put anything up at all,” he explained as he headed toward the glacial hallway. “But from what you told me, you’re used to a tree. I cut one down for you this morning. It’s drying out in the garage.”

But from what you told me, you’re used to a tree. I cut one down for you this morning. It’s drying out in the garage
.

He plunked down the box in front of her and sat next to her on the couch.

“Don’t expect much.”

She gave him a curious sideways glance—
had there been a hint of vulnerability in his tone?
—before she peeled back the flaps on the box and withdrew a velvet bag. When she reached inside, she first drew out an exquisite little beaded apple, then a pear, and then a dove, the detailing and color choice making each item a work of art.

“Where did you get them? They’re darling…perfect,” she exclaimed as she examined a little toy soldier.

“My grandmother made them for me. She can make anything. She can take a coffee can and make it into a family heirloom.”

“You really love your grandparents, don’t you?” she murmured as she continued to admire each beaded gem before she carefully placed it on her lap.

“Uh-huh.”

“Why didn’t you move near them?” she asked as she ran her fingers over a tiny brown-and-white-spotted cow.

“I thought about it. Nearly bought a little resort a couple hours from my grandparents’ house, but…” She glanced back at him when he faded off. “I sort of fell for the land hereabouts. Besides, it’s not that far of a trip to St. Paul.”

“And where did you live when you were in Chicago?” she asked conversationally as she withdrew yet another bag and gasped in delight as she drew out first one white and clear glass-beaded snowflake, then another, slightly different in design and with silver beads. “Oh, these are beautiful, Alex. Look,” she murmured as she held up a snowflake and the flames from the fire made it flash and sparkle as it twirled on its string. “Ideal—given the weather and all.”

She turned, her smile fading when she saw the way he watched her.

“Where did you say you lived in Chicago?” she asked again, hiding heated cheeks by bending back over to look in the box.

“On Diversey. Near the lake.”

“So, do you sail or golf?” she asked wryly, referring to the fact that his location would have giving him access to one of the few city driving ranges as well as a popular harbor.

“I sail. I leave the golfing to Mitchell,” he replied.

She glanced up to see if mentioning his father’s name had irritated him. Angeline was growing to hate the bitterness between the two men.
Maybe because you’ve stupidly thrown yourself into the middle of their conflict
.

He leaned back on the couch, his arms spread along the back.
No
, she thought with a sigh of relief, Alex hardly looked irritated as he watched her finger another delicate snowflake.

“What about you?”

“Me?” she asked, temporarily confused by the warmth in his blue eyes, not to mention his virility, his nearness…his
largeness
.

“Oh, I love to sail, actually. My mother taught me how in Lake Superior. She learned to sail in the village where she grew up in Greece. We just had a little Sunfish, nothing fancy. I suppose you had something much larger?”

He shrugged. “Sailing skills are the same, no matter the size of the boat. Access to Lake Michigan is actually one of the few things I miss about the city.”

“What else do you miss?” She bent to withdraw a smaller cardboard box resting in the larger one, watching him from the side of her vision as she fumbled to open the box.

“A Bears game at Soldier Field during a snowstorm, Daley Plaza at Christmastime.” He fingered his goatee thoughtfully. “My barber at Truefitt and Hill.”

She laughed before she could stop herself. Much to her relief, he didn’t look offended at her mirth over the fact that Alex Carradine missed what was the equivalent of a male day spa. She tried to picture him sitting in the most elegant barbershop in the city, getting a straight razor shave and his shoes shined while classical music played in the background.

Her smile widened when she realized she could picture it perfectly. Alex may have the fit, muscular body of a born athlete, but there was a definite male grace and elegance to his movements as well.

He grinned suddenly and it was like a light went on in the room. She paused and stared, her laughter fading.

The man could turn a female to warm mush with that smile.

“You’re shocked that a brute like me would value an English barber?”

She swallowed thickly and forced her gaze away from his mouth. “Alex, I don’t think you’re a brute,” she muttered, wondering if he’d noticed the unintentional huskiness of her voice. His words had brought to mind his lovemaking. It hadn’t been brutish at all, but it had been primal and powerful, and it had pushed at the limits of how she saw herself sexually. Despite his dominant, demanding manner, his touch had been so gentle at times, his kiss so hot, so cherishing…

She glanced back at him hesitantly. “You know…I love Daley Plaza at Christmastime too.

“Not too touristy for you?” he asked, that drop-dead smile still lingering on his lips.

She shook her head resolutely as she turned back to the box of ornaments. “I love it. I try to be there every year when they light up the big tree. I like buying all sorts of different yummy chocolates in the German Village they put up. Oh,
look
,” she breathed out in amazement as she held up a tiny reindeer carved in wood. It wasn’t a cutesy parody of a reindeer, but instead a fine piece of craftsmanship worked by someone with a skilled hand and an eye that knew how to observe nature.

She glanced up at the carvings on the mantel.

“You did this,” she whispered, stating a fact rather than asking. He said nothing, and neither did she as she withdrew the rest of the carved ornaments—a moose with its head dipped as it drank, a beaver on its haunches that had just become aware of an intruder and was about to spring, a twisting trout as it darted away from the hook that almost had snared it.

The last one she withdrew from the box was different than all the others—an angel with wings outspread, the expression on her beautiful face enigmatic and arresting.

“Oh, Alex. You could do this for a living,” she said in a hushed tone.

She was hesitant to turn around and look at him at that full moment…afraid of what she might do. He said nothing, but she’d never been so aware of another person in her life.

After a moment, she swallowed thickly and carefully placed the exquisite angel back into the box.

“When will we be able to put up the tree?”

“Not until this evening,” he replied in a low voice.

“Thank you for getting it, Alex,” she said feelingly, although she was careful to keep her gaze on the leaping flames in the hearth. Her heart began to thrum in her ears in the taut silence that followed. Her neck and cheek prickled with the awareness of his gaze.

She heard him sigh and sensed that he straightened.

“It’s not a huge tree or anything,” he said gruffly behind her. “If you’re finished in the bathroom, I’ll take the heater out to the garage. It’ll help dry the tree. I’ll give it a good once over with some towels too. That ought to help,” he said briskly, and she was grateful to him for breaking the tension of the moment.

He stood suddenly, and Angeline turned. She found herself staring straight onto long, hard-looking thighs and a jaw-dropping, denim-covered package. She told herself to drop her gaze, but instead she looked up into Alex’s face.

He watched her with a heavy-lidded stare that spoke volumes.

Angeline lunged up off the couch and took several steps toward the kitchen.

“I’m finished in the bathroom. Hey, is it okay if I check out what you have in the freezer? It’s kept things cold enough, even without the electricity, but we ought to try to use some of the thawing meat soon. Maybe I can find something suitable for a Christmas dinner?”

His blue-eyed gaze swept rapidly over her from head to toe just like it had when he’d entered the kitchen earlier. Unlike that time, however, he didn’t seem irritated by her standoffishness.

“Make yourself at home, Angel.”

She stood transfixed as he lowered his head, and then she was staring at the back of his broad shoulders as he left the room.

What the hell was she going to do? She was trapped in this house with a man she found immensely sexually attractive, but also appealing and even endearing in unforeseen ways.

She couldn’t quite comprehend Alex’s comfort in expressing his interest in her when they hardly knew each other, but one thing she
did
know. Angeline was going to have to be honest with Mitchell about what had happened with Alex, at least in a vague, un-detailed format.

It was a conversation she was looking forward to about as much as running out into the blizzard naked.

As for what was
still
happening between her and Alex, she felt anxious and wary about that as well. Surely Alex’s interest in her was at least partly associated with all the animosity he held toward Mitchell. He’d accused Mitchell of asking her up to Heavenly View to hurt him.

Wasn’t it possible Alex’s motivation in seducing her was a return metaphorical punch? And if so, didn’t that make it an absolute
must
for her to reject him if he came onto her again?

Logically, that would seem to be the only answer. But Angeline thought of their heated trysts on that floor last night, and she was honest enough to admit to herself she was so curious about…so desirous of Alex Caraddine’s touch, it would be damn difficult to refuse him much of anything.