It's A Wonderfully Sexy Life (10 page)

Still, it was Christmas, a time for celebrating miracles and wishes come-true, a time for believing. When he’d gotten down on the carpet on all fours for Theresa’s five-year-old, Lizzie, to climb up onto his shoulders, sending the child and her twin siblings into spasms of delight, Mandy’s heart had squeezed in on itself like a fist. A piggyback ride, what better Christmas gift to give a trio of fatherless children than that? He even liked little kids, how much more wonderful could a guy get? Actually, he seemed to genuinely like everybody and everything. So far, he hadn’t shown signs of minding nosy questions (her mother’s), thunder thighs (hers), or noise and chaos (the Delinski clan and guests in general). And to top it off, the cherry on the hot fudge sundae, he was absolutely amazing in bed. If only he really was a bartender, or some other working class occupation, he really would have been perfect to a T.

“Want a bite?” Startled from her thoughts, Mandy looked up to find her father sidling up to her side, a slab of chocolate cake resting on the plastic plate he held out. Aside from accumulating some extra pounds and gray hairs, he looked much as she remembered him growing up—a big, raw-boned man with a penchant for sideburns, button-down cardigans, and clip-on bow ties.

She shook. “No thanks, I’m good.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You sure? It’s chocolate cassata from Vaccaro’s.”

Devil’s food cake layered with chocolate cannoli cream and garnished with chocolate drops around the outside, the Italian confection defined sinfully delicious. Mandy remembered it all too well if only because she still wore last year’s serving on her thighs. “Yeah, I’m sure, but thanks anyway.”

“Hot in here, huh?” He pulled on the knot of his Christmas tie, a gift from her mother. Like her sweater, the annual Christmas tie was a tradition to be suffered through with a smile but never questioned. This year’s selection featured polar bears wearing Santa caps. “What’s your best guess on the temperature in the living room, huh? Seventy? Seventy-five?”

Uh-oh, small talk. In the Delinski household, chitchat was a red flag that a major interrogation was about to go down. Eager to escape before it could, she said, “I honestly don’t know, Pop, but I’ll go downstairs and bring up the floor fan.”

She took a step toward the basement door, but he caught at her sleeve. “No, your mother will just complain she’s cold. I’ve been married to that woman for thirty-five years, and you know, I’ve never seen her break a sweat.”

Stopped in her tracks, she turned back around. “I guess I take after you, then?”

“Guess so.” He scooped up a forkful of cake and popped it into his mouth. Chewing, he said, “That young man of yours, Josh, he has a funny accent but otherwise he seems like an okay guy. Where’d you say he’s from?”

Oh shit, here it comes—the Spanish Inquisition
sans
the rack and thumb screws.
“Boston.”

“Boston, huh? Your aunt Cessie went there once. Snows a lot, she said.”

Mandy hid a smile. Her parents’ idea of travel was limited to an annual summer vacation to the beach in Ocean City, Maryland. Outside of that, they rarely ventured beyond Baltimore. “Only in the winter, Pop.”

He shrugged. “How’d you two meet, by the way?”

“On the job.”

“So he’s a cop, too?”

Feeling all of twelve, she looked down to the toes of her shoes. “Not exactly.”

Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, if she said Josh was a bartender, her father would dismiss him on the spot as a player and a deadbeat who couldn’t hold down a “real” job. On the other hand, if he knew they had a high-powered telecommunications executive in their midst, he’d be running out the door to find a priest to marry them—so long as she left out the part about Josh being on the run from the mob. Not that it mattered because no way would she dream of blowing Josh’s cover by telling her pop the truth, a truth she wasn’t even supposed to know. Besides, it wasn’t like Josh was going to be sticking around long enough for her to worry about how he was going to fit into her family. If all went according to plan—meaning she managed to keep him alive to testify—he’d be back to his old life in Boston by January second.

Her father’s frown deepened. He forked up more cake. “Not exactly? Just what is
not exactly
supposed to mean?”

Hoping the best defense was indeed a good offense, she countered with, “Why are you giving me the third degree? He’s just some guy I met who’s new in town and didn’t have anywhere to go for Christmas. I thought I’d bring him home for a little hospitality, a little Christmas cheer is all. That’s what open houses are for, right?”

“Hospitality. Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Feeling like she had a scarlet
A
glowing on her breast, she backed up a step. “Pop!”

He let out a huff. “If he’s just some guy, then tell me why you’re looking at him like that?”

Okay, back to feeling twelve years old, not a great feeling, but it beats feeling like Hester Prynne.
“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to melt into a puddle of wax on the floor any minute, that’s how.”

“I told you, Pop, I’m hot is all.” She made a show of pulling at the neck of her sweater.

“Hot, huh. Hot to trot, don’t you mean? Speaking of which, you should know I covered for you with your mother.”

Shit, she really was busted. “Covered for what?”

“You know very well for what.” He shook his head. Leaning in, he whispered, “When you didn’t come downstairs for breakfast, I told her you were sleeping late. She was so busy in the kitchen, she never saw you waltz in.”

“I didn’t waltz, I tiptoed…but only because I didn’t want to wake anybody.”

“At noon on Christmas? What are we, vampires? Come on, Amanda, you may be thirty years old and a police officer, but I’m still your father. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, so don’t even try. You like this guy, you like him a lot. What I want to know is what are his intentions?”

His intentions
. Suddenly she felt as though she’d traveled back in time not one week but a good fifty years. She fitted a hand over her forehead which had begun to throb. “It’s too early to say, okay. Right now, I’m just taking it slow and seeing what happens.”

“You call spending the night with a stranger taking it slow?”

She felt herself flushing with guilt and something more. She’d never before had a one-night stand, let alone propositioned a man to get into his bed. There was no way she could explain to her pop, to anyone for that matter, that she’d gone home with Josh to save his life. Well, okay, maybe that wasn’t the only reason, but certainly saving him had been the catalyst. The hot sex they’d shared had surpassed her wildest, craziest fantasies, but it was the tenderness afterward, the way he’d held her close and let her lay her head on his shoulder that had her thinking last night must have meant something special to him, too. Maybe she was just kidding herself but even though he was tall and built and good-looking—okay, hot—he didn’t strike her as a “player,” someone who went after sex for the thrill of the conquest or well, for the hell of it.

It was obvious that further denial was pointless, a waste of energy, and so she tried tossing off the subject with a shrug. “It’s a brave new world, Pop, and I’m not a kid anymore. What do you want me to say?”

His expression softened. “You’re a grown woman, Amanda, I know this. Sometimes it may seem we forget that because you’re the baby of the family. Sometimes maybe we do, but it’s only because we love you and want what’s best for you.”

This was the very last conversation she wanted or needed to be having right now. “I know, Pop, I know. I just need some space, a little room to breathe, okay?”

“All I’m saying is this, don’t sell yourself short. You’re a beautiful young woman with a good brain and a big heart, and I’m not just saying so because you’re my daughter.” Eyes holding hers, he tapped his fork on the hunk of half-eaten cake. “Don’t settle for crumbs when you deserve the whole cake, okay?”

It was just like her family to set her up for the kill and then go all mushy on her at the last minute. She nodded, embarrassed at how choked up she was becoming. “Okay, Pop, got it.”

“Good, that’s my girl.” Flashing a watery smile, he chucked her under the chin. The habit had used to annoy her, but in the last few years she’d come to find it endearing, comforting even. Dropping his hand to his side, he started to step away, and then stopped. “By the way, this cake, it’s the only store-bought pastry your mother will let me bring into the house, but then Vaccaro’s has been in business since 1956 when I was still a kid with a paper route. It’s solid, dependable.” He gestured to his plate. “Trust the word of someone who’s lived a lot longer than thirty years, Amanda. A marriage partner is like a bakery—choose wisely and you’ll be surprised at how what looks like a plain chocolate cake on the outside can turn out to be filled with rich, wonderful surprises.”

Number of hunky potential boyfriends available for sucking face with under the mistletoe: one, but then how many does a girl need?

He’d been on edge when they’d first arrived, not from culture shock but from anticipating what questions might be asked of him and how he would respond. For once, his anxiety proved to be unfounded. His hosts and fellow guests were infallibly warm and welcoming, more focused on having a good time than on grilling anyone, including him. When someone did ask a question of him, it was invariably, “How do you know
our
Mandy?” As the afternoon wore on, it was obvious there was more than one would-be matchmaker in the room, and that “our Mandy” was very dear to family, friends and neighbors alike, not that he was surprised. True, he’d known her fewer than twenty-four hours, but in that time he’d found her to be warmhearted and generous, caring and giving, both in and out of bed.

As for the in bed part, once she’d gotten over her initial shyness, the sex had been phenomenal, the best of his life. Moving in perfect sync, they’d made love for hours. Given how out of shape he was in the bedroom department—the condoms in his apartment were left over from the summer before in Boston—he’d bet money he’d wake up tomorrow with a stiff back and hips, a small price to pay for that level of pleasure. Given the intensity with which they’d gone at it that morning, he suspected Mandy would be feeling sore in certain places as well, not that he expected her to say so. She still hadn’t lost all her reserve, especially when it came to asking for what she wanted in bed, but she was uncannily good at anticipating his desires—and then fulfilling them beyond his wildest fantasies. What inhibitions she still held on to all seemed to be focused on her body image, specifically her weight. That was a damned shame, he thought, and something of a mystery because she looked beautiful to him—okay, hot—a full-figured version of a Victoria’s Secret angel. Even dressed casually in a Christmas sweater, jeans and boots, she managed to shine.

Truth be told, he didn’t much care for the sweater, a gift from her mother. The snowman motif and baggy construction hid the shape of her beautiful breasts, but he loved that she wore it with a smile, obviously to make her mom happy. Christmas gift or not, Tiffany would have tossed the hideous sweater aside without a thought for anyone’s feelings beyond her own. The boot-cut jeans on the other hand were awesome, or more to the point they looked awesome on Mandy. Her softly flaring hips and perfectly shaped ass filled out the denim to perfection. Of course he preferred her wearing nothing at all—nothing beyond his bedsheets, that is—but then again this was Christmas and definitely a family affair, so he’d have to keep his lust in check…until later, at least.

A tall man with slicked-back honey-colored hair, a gold-capped front tooth and cotton undershirt visible beneath his satiny striped dress shirt strolled up. Sausage roll in hand, he gave Josh the once-over and asked, “So how do you know our Mandy?”

Our Mandy.
There it was again. Before Josh could answer, the subject of everyone’s adoration materialized at his side. “We’re just friends, Mikey, so ease up, okay?”

Munching on the appetizer, Mikey shrugged. “Geez, can’t a guy ask a simple question about his favorite cousin without getting his head bitten off?” He punctuated the question by tearing off another bite of the roll.

“Sorry, Mikey. Merry Christmas and lay off, how’s that?” Before he could answer, she took Josh’s hand and steered them through the room of wall-to-wall people toward the kitchen.

On the way, he asked, “Just how many siblings and cousins do you have?”

“I’m the youngest of five. As for cousins, well, to be honest, I’ve lost count.”

“Wow.” He shook his head. “When you said you came from a big family, you weren’t exaggerating.”

A cloud crossed her face. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He reached out and lightly squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I like your family and your friends.” With the exception of the creep, Lenny, who kept staring at her breasts and swiping sweat from his upper lip, that was true enough. “They’re great, really warm. My family is much more…reserved. That’s not always a good thing.” He dropped his hand to his side as it occurred to him that touching her so publicly might not jive with her “just friends” story. It was just that touching her came so naturally to him that he did it without conscious thought, sort of like breathing.

“Sometimes I wish my family wasn’t quite so in my face, but most of the time they’re pretty okay. The bottom line is there’s not a person here who wouldn’t rush out to help me at 3:00 a.m. if I was in trouble.”

“Well, that’s a lot. That’s just about everything.”

Family and friends and that special someone with whom to share it all, the good, the bad, and all the moments in between. At one time, he’d thought that special someone was Tiffany but looking back, he could see he’d deluded himself from the start. Oh, she’d looked the part of a Thornton bride with her pedigreed ancestry, spa-sculpted body, and couture clothes. And she could be very charming when it suited her, which was usually when she wanted something. If he could have overlooked the absence of a soul, she would have made the perfect wife, the perfect
Thornton
wife, he supposed. But spending the night with Mandy had opened not only his eyes but his heart, as well. Now that he’d experienced what it was to be with someone truly generous—generous with her heart and body and feelings—there was no question of going back. Not back to Tiffany, certainly, nor to any Tiffany-like clone, either. He wanted more from a woman, a wife, than a socialite to host his dinner parties, bear his babies and pretend interest in his lame golf stories in front of guests. He wanted someone warmhearted and kind, passionate and real. He wanted someone like Mandy. But there was only one Mandy, and he’d started out their relationship based on a lie.

From the far side of the house, a bell sounded. They looked across the room to where Mandy’s sister, Sharon, squatted beneath the Christmas tree, rifling through the pile of gifts beneath. She gave the hand bell another ring and called out, “Listen up, people, it’s time for the Secret Santa gift swap. Get your butts in here.”

Josh turned to Mandy. “I feel badly. I didn’t bring a gift to exchange.”

She shrugged, looking anything but concerned. “Don’t worry about it. It’s Secret Santas, not really a gift swap. In a family as large as ours, buying a present for everyone just isn’t affordable, so instead all the adults exchange names on Thanksgiving and buy one gift—except for the kids, that is. They still rake it in. There’s no way I’m going to miss out on buying Barbie paraphernalia.”

He shook his head. “Like the Barbie town house, you mean?”

She waved a hand. “Oh, the Barbie townhouse is old news. Now there’s the Barbie Totally Real House complete with a working doorbell, spinning washer and dryer, and, believe it or not, shower and flush toilet. Compared to it, the town house was a rent-controlled hovel. Right now I get my fix by buying for my nieces and cousins.”

“I take it you want kids, then?”

Mandy hesitated. Until now, she’d been enjoying the light flirtatiousness of their conversation, but the seriousness of the question set her on her guard. Having kids was a hot button topic if only because for her that meant marriage first, which of course meant finding the right man. Mr. Right, in so many ways she was looking at him now, and yet she couldn’t see any way a future together could be possible. Forget possible, she didn’t even know if a future with her or anyone, was even on his radar screen. Given the pressure he must be under just to stay alive, she doubted it.

Choosing her words with care, she hid her feelings behind a shrug. “Someday, if things work out, sure, I’d like to have a family. What about you?”

It was his turn to shrug. “I always assumed I’d marry and have kids eventually. I’m not so sure now. A lot of things are pretty…up in the air for me right now.”

He’d only confirmed what she’d known in her heart and yet the admission made her feel sad suddenly, a little empty inside, and more than a little lonely.

From across the room, her sister, Sharon rang the hand bell she was using to keep order and called out Mandy’s name. Glad for the opportunity to exit before their conversation became any more personal, she turned back to Josh and said, “Duty calls. I’ll be right back.”

She marched across the room to where Sharon stood holding out an exquisitely wrapped gold foil box. “Merry Christmas, Mands, and for God’s sake don’t open this here or Mom and Pop will have coronaries.”

Taking the gift, Mandy gave it a shake. “That good, huh?”

Leaning in, Sharon whispered, “Actually, it’s something for your goody drawer, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t have a goody drawer.”

Sharon grinned. “You do now, although by the looks of the hunk over there in the corner, maybe you don’t need this after all.”

“He’s just a friend.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh, sure he is. And this is just a body massager.”

Taking the package, Mandy shook her head. Her big sister might look like a conservative, middle-aged mom, but inside her plump, Laura Ashley jumper-clad body beat the heart of a porn star. “Thanks, I guess.”

Sharon caught at her arm. “He likes kids, I know that much. You should have seen him with Jimmy assembling that pinball machine.”

A lump in her throat, Mandy tucked the package under her arm. Amidst group shouts of “Open it, open it, let’s see what you got” she shook her head. “Like I said, he’s just a friend.”

Josh was standing in the same spot where’d she’d left him, a funny look on his face. Glancing at the package under her arm, he asked. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Face heating, she shook her head. “I have a pretty good idea what it is. I’ll wait and open it in private.”

“In private, huh? Now you’ve really piqued my curiosity.” His slow smile brought back memories of their sexy night together, and she felt her blush spreading along with the heat pressing between her thighs.

Setting the package aside, she said, “Let’s just say my older sister has a perverse sense of humor.”

Expression turning serious, he said, “I wish I had a gift for you.”

How could she tell him that he’d given her so much already, great sex, to be sure, but so much more than that—tenderness and passion and the precious reassurance that she was sensual and sexy and maybe, just maybe, loveable, too. No matter if she lived to be one hundred, their beautiful night together would live on in her dreams, and her heart, for the rest of her life.

“I’m thirty years old, Josh. At this point, the things I want from life don’t come out of a box, no matter how pretty the wrapping.”

He searched her face with his eyes. “What is it you want, Mandy?”

You, I want you
. “I want experiences, I want to feel things and know things and share things. I want time, Josh, time with you.” Before she lost her nerve, she hurried ahead. “I have some vacation left over, not much, just about a week’s worth, but if I don’t use it before the first of the year, I can’t carry it over. It’ll be lost.” Actually her plan had been to cash it in, but money, even money saved toward the worthy goal of home ownership, seemed so very trivial compared to a life at stake. “If I take this week off from work, this time between Christmas and New Year’s, would you spend it with me? No strings, no promises. I know…that is, I’m guessing Baltimore is just a pit stop for you, that you’ll be going back home to Boston…eventually.” When he didn’t deny it, only watched her in silence with solemn eyes, she felt a stab in the vicinity of her heart. Determined to ignore it and make the most of what time they did have, she said, “My New Year’s resolution for 2007 is to start living in the moment, to start living, period. What I’m asking you for is a week’s worth of moments. What do you say, Josh, do I get my Christmas wish? Will you stay with me until the New Year?”

Expression unreadable, he said, “Before I answer that, have you noticed where we’re standing?”

She’d just poured out her heart to him knowing he could as easily say “no” and walk out of her life—and straight to his death—as he could say “yes” and stay. What she hadn’t prepared herself for was ambiguity. Flustered, she shook her head.

“For a cop, you’re not all that observant of your surroundings.” He reached above them and tapped the ribbon-tied greenery and waxy white berries hanging over the archway. “What is this, do you think?”

“Mistletoe.”

His mouth curved into a smile mirrored in the warmth of his eyes. “That’s right, mistletoe, and you know what that means. Merry Christmas, Mandy.” Without so much as a glance around to see who might be watching, he leaned in and kissed her.