A Christmas Blessing (11 page)

“You’re awfully quiet,” Jessie observed.

“Just enjoying the meal,” he claimed.

She eyed his full plate skeptically. “Really?”

He was saved from stammering out some sort of explanation by the sound of whimpers from the bedroom. “Angela’s awake,” he announced unnecessarily and bolted before Jessie could even react.

With the baby safely tucked against his chest, it was easier somehow to keep his emotions in check. Right now he figured Angela was as critical to his survival as a bulletproof vest was to a cop working the violent streets.

“She’s probably hungry,” Jessie said when the two of them were settled back at the table.

The innocent observation had Luke’s gaze suddenly riveted on Jessie’s chest. So much for keeping his attention focused elsewhere.

“She’s not making a fuss yet,” he replied in a choked voice, clinging to the baby a trifle desperately. “Enjoy your dinner.”

Jessie seemed about to protest, but finally nodded and picked up her fork. Luke kept his gaze firmly fixed on the baby.

“How are you doing, sweet pea? Ready for your very first Christmas? It’s almost time for the big show, the lighting of the tree.”

“It’s amazing the effect you have on her,” Jessie commented. “It must be your voice. It soothes her.”

Luke grinned. “Can’t tell you the number of women I’ve put to sleep by talking too much.”

Blue eyes observed him steadily as if trying to assess whether he was only teasing or boasting. Apparently she decided he was joking. To his amazement, he could see a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

“I doubt that,” she countered dryly. “I suspect it’s the kind of voice that keeps grown-up women very much awake.”

“You included?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. His heart skidded to a standstill as he watched the color rise in her cheeks. Those telltale patches were answer enough. So he hadn’t totally misread those occasional sparks of interest in her eyes. Nevertheless, a few sparks weren’t enough to overcome a mountain of doubts.

Jessie seemed to struggle to find her voice. When she finally did, she said dryly, “Now that’s the famous Luke Adams ego that’s legendary around these parts.”

“That’s not an answer,” he taunted, enjoying the deepening color in her cheeks.

“It’s as close to one as you’re likely to get,” she taunted right back.

Luke chuckled. “Never mind. I already have my answer.”

Jessie’s gaze clashed with his, hers uncertain and very, very vulnerable. Luke finally relented. “You’re immune to me. You’ve seen me at my worst.”

“Bad enough to terrify the angels,” she confirmed, her voice laced with unmistakable gratitude for the reprieve he’d granted.

She stood up with a brisk movement and reached for the baby, making her claim on the armor he’d clung to so desperately. “I’ll feed her now,” she said.

“You haven’t had dessert,” Luke protested, not relinquishing the baby. At this rate they’d be engaged in a tug-of-war over the child.

“We’ll have it in front of the tree,” Jessie said determinedly and held out her arms.

Reluctantly, he placed Angela in her mother’s arms and watched them disappear down the hallway to the bedroom. Only when the door shut softly behind them did he breathe a heartfelt sigh of relief.

The reprieve, however, didn’t last nearly long enough for him to regain his equilibrium. The clean-up kept him occupied briefly. Fixing coffee and pie to take into the living room took only moments longer.

In the living room, he plugged in the tree and turned on the radio, once again tuning it to a station playing carols. The room shimmered with a thousand twinkling colored lights. Luke was certain he had never seen a more beautiful tree, never felt so clearly the meaning of Christmas.

As he anticipated Jessie’s return, he fingered the carved wooden figures in the cr;ageche he’d placed beneath the tree, lingering over the baby Jesus. His thoughts were on another baby, one he wished with all of his jaded heart was his own.

He was standing, still and silent, when he sensed Jessie’s approach. He heard her soft, indrawn breath. The faint scent of her perfume whispered through the air, something fresh and light and indescribably sexy.

“Oh, Luke, it’s absolutely spectacular,” she murmured. “The whole room feels as if it’s alive with color.”

He glanced down and saw reflected sparks of light shimmering in her eyes. Her lush mouth was curved in the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Angela was nestled in her arms, spawning inevitable comparisons to the most finely drawn works of Madonna and child. In motherhood, even more than before, Jessie was both mysterious and beautiful, so very beautiful that it made his heart ache.

Nothing in heaven or hell could have prevented what happened next. Luke felt his control slipping, his resolve vanishing on a tide of desperate longing. He lowered his head slowly, pausing for the briefest of instants to gauge Jessie’s reaction before gently touching his mouth to hers.

The kiss was like brushing up against fire, hot and dangerous and alluring. He lingered no longer than a heartbeat, but it was enough to send heat shimmering through him, to stir desire into a relentless, demanding need. The temptation to tarry longer, the need to savor, washed over him in great, huge, pulsing waves.

This one last time, though, the determination to cling to honor was powerful enough to save him, to save them both. He drew back reluctantly, examining Jessie’s dazed eyes and flushed cheeks for signs of horror or panic. He saw—or thought he saw—only a hunger that matched his own and, to his deep regret, the grit to resist, the impulse to run.

“Merry Christmas,” he said softly before she could flee.

She hesitated, her eyes shadowed with worry. “Merry Christmas,” she said finally, apparently accepting the truce he was offering in their emotional balancing act.

Luke hid a sigh of relief. She hadn’t run yet and he had just the thing to see that she didn’t. “I found Consuela’s tapes. What’ll it be?”

Jessie blinked away what might have been tears, then said, “
Miracle on 34th Street
, I think.”

“Good choice,” he said too exuberantly. He slid the tape into the VCR and flipped on the TV while Jessie settled herself and the baby on the sofa.

Luke warned himself to sit in a chair on the opposite side of the room, warned himself to keep distance between them. He actually took a step in that direction, before reversing and sinking onto the far side of the sofa.

Jessie shot him a startled look, then seemed to measure the space between them. Apparently it was enough to reassure her, because slowly, visibly she began to relax, her gaze fixed on the TV screen where the holiday classic was unfolding.

They could have been watching
Dr. Zhivago
for all Luke saw. He couldn’t seem to drag his gaze or his thoughts away from Jessie. Each breath he drew was ragged with desire. Each moment that passed was sheer torment as his head struggled between right and wrong.

And yet, despite the agony of doing what he knew deep in his gut was right, he thought he had never been happier or more content. The night held promise tantalizingly out of reach, but it shimmered with possibilities just the same. A few stolen hours, he vowed. No more. He would soak up the scent of her, the sight of her so that every fiber of his being could hold the memory forever.

Her laughter, as light as a spring breeze, rippled over him leaving him aroused and aching. Tears spilled down her cheeks unchecked, luring his touch. His fingers trembled as he reached to wipe away the sentimental traces of dampness. At his touch, her gaze flew to his, startled…hopeful.

That hint of temptation in her eyes was warning enough. If Jessie was losing her resolve tonight, then being strong, being stoic was going to be up to him.

He withdrew his hand and thought it was the hardest thing he had ever done. Only one thing he could imagine would ever be harder—letting her go. And tomorrow, just a few brief hours from now, he would be put to the test.

Chapter Eight

C
hristmas morning dawned sunny and clear. The snow shimmered like diamonds scattered across white velvet. Sparkling icicles clung to the eaves. The world outside was like a wonderland, all of its flaws covered over with a blanket of purest white.

For once Jessie had apparently gotten up before Luke. She hadn’t heard him stirring when she fed Angela at 6:00 a.m. Nor was there any sign of him in the kitchen when she went for a cup of coffee before showering and getting dressed. Usually starting the coffeepot was the first thing he did in the morning. Today it hadn’t even been plugged in. Jessie checked to make sure the electric coffee machine was filled with freshly ground beans and water, then plugged it in and switched it on.

After tying the belt on her robe a little more securely, she sat down at the kitchen table to wait for the coffee to brew. Her thoughts promptly turned to the night before. Every single second of their holiday celebration was indelibly burned on her memory: the delicious dinner, the sentimental old movie, the shared laughter, the twinkling lights of the tree, the kiss.

Ah, yes, the kiss, she thought, smiling despite herself. She wasn’t sure which one of them had been more shocked by its intensity. Even though Luke had initiated it, he had seemed almost as startled as she had been by the immediate flaring of heat and hunger it had set off. Though his mouth against hers had been gentle and coaxing, the kiss had been more passionately persuasive than an all-out seduction. Fire had leapt through her veins. Desire had flooded through her belly. If he had pursued his advantage, there was no telling how far things might have gone.

Well, they couldn’t have gone too far, she reassured herself. She had just had a baby, after all. Still, there was no talking away the fact that she’d displayed the resistance of mush. And once again Luke had proven the kind of man he was, strong and honorable.

His restraint, as frustrating as it had been at the time, only deepened her respect for him. She added it to the list of all of his admirable traits and wished with all her heart that she had met him first, before Erik, before any possibility of a relationship had become so tangled with past history and old loyalties, so twisted with guilt and blame.

Almost as soon as she acknowledged the wish, guilt spread through her. How could she regret loving Erik? How could she possibly regret having Angela? Life had blessed her with a husband who had loved her with all his heart, no matter his other flaws. She had been doubly blessed with a daughter because of that love. What kind of selfish monster would wish any of that away?

“Dear God, what am I thinking?” she whispered on a ragged moan, burying her head on her arms.

There was only one answer. She had to find some way to get away from Luke, to put her tattered restraint back together. She had to get to White Pines before she made a terrible mistake, before the whole family was ripped apart again by what would amount to a rivalry for her affections.

Despite their occasional differences, she knew how deep the ties among Erik’s family members ran. They would consider themselves the protectors of Erik’s interests. Luke would be viewed as a traitor, a man with no respect for his brother’s memory. They would hold her actions against him, blaming him alone for their love when the truth was that she was the one who was increasingly powerless to resist it. She wouldn’t allow that to happen.

An image came to her then, an image of Luke returning from his pickup, his expression filled with guilt as he’d sworn he couldn’t find his cellular phone. More than likely she’d been in denial that night, longing for something that could never be, or she would have known what that expression on his face had meant.

Anger, quite possibly misdirected, surged through her. It gave her the will to act, to do what she knew in her heart must be done. She stood and grabbed Luke’s heavy jacket, poked her bare feet into boots several sizes too large, snatched up his thick gloves, and stomped outside.

She was promptly felled by the first drift of snow. She stepped off the porch and into heavy, damp snow up to her hips. She dragged herself forward by sheer will, determined to get to the truck, determined to discover if Luke had deliberately kept her stranded here.

Her progress could have been measured in inches. Her bare skin between the tops of the boots and the bottom of the coat was stinging from the cold. Still, she trudged on until she finally reached the pickup and tugged at the door. The lock was frozen shut.

Crying out in frustration, Jessie tried to unlock it by scraping at the ice, then covering the lock with her gloved hands in a futile attempt to melt the thin, but effective coating of ice. She tried blowing on it, hoping her breath would be warm enough to help. When that didn’t work, she slammed her fist against it, hoping to crack it.

Again and again, she jiggled the handle, trying to pry the door open. Eventually, when she could barely feel her feet, when her whole body was shuddering violently from the cold, the lock gave and the door came free. She jumped inside and slammed the door, relieved to be out of the biting wind.

Remembering that Erik had always left the keys above the visor, no matter how she’d argued with him about it, she checked to see if Luke had done the same. No keys. She doubted Luke was any more security conscious than his brother had been. She checked under the floor mat, then felt beneath the front seat.

That’s where she eventually found them, tucked away almost beyond her reach. Her fingers awkward from the gloves and the cold, she finally managed to turn on the engine. It might take forever for the truck to warm up, but she intended to spend as long as it took to thoroughly check the pickup for that cellular phone.

It didn’t take nearly as long as she might have wished. To her astonishment and instantaneous fury, she found it on the first try, right in the glove compartment. Luke hadn’t even bothered to lock it, though it was obvious to her that he had made a passing attempt to hide the phone under some papers. Clutching the phone in her hand, she sank back against the seat and simply stared at it.