Can't Buy Your Love (5 page)

Her aunt swirled. “You like it? I made it myself.

“Of course you did.” Vanity smiled when she wanted to laugh. Each movement caused her aunt to jingle. That would get old before the night ended.

Her aunt stumbled over to her and dragged Vanity into a tight hug. “Merry Christmas, darling. This present is for you before Owen gets here. I’ll give you something else for the group exchange.”

She pushed a small box into Vanity’s hand, and Vanity took it with reluctance. “Aunt Ella, that’s not necessary.” She searched her mind for all the purchases she’d made and tried to think which one could be given to her aunt as an extra present.

“Open it, open it!” Aunt Ella almost bounced up and down in her eagerness. Vanity had no choice. She undid the fancy purple bow with hand-curled ribbons hanging from it. With care, she eased a nail beneath each bit of tape until Aunt Ella let out a squeak and ripped the paper apart.

Vanity laughed. “Really, Aunt Ella? You want to open this, or you want me to do it?”

“Okay, I’ll be over here.” Her aunt wandered to the couch and sat down, but she lingered on the edge of her seat, eyes wide and focused on Vanity.

Vanity sighed and pulled the box’s lid open. She parted the lavender tissue paper and gasped. Her knees gave, and she dropped to the chair behind her, staring down at the picture frame. “Where did you get this?”

Her aunt waved a hand and clicked with her tongue. “Oh I have a small craft set, and I like to tinker with it now and again to—”

“The picture.”

At fourteen, Vanity weighed so little, her pants hung off her narrow frame. She sat by Aunt Ella’s overdecorated tree with a plate full of food, stuffing bite after bite into her mouth. That Christmas was the first one she spent with Aunt Ella alone, also the first time in a long while she’d gotten enough to eat. The packages under the tree, wrapped in shades of pink and purple—girl colors Aunt Ella had said—were all for her.

Tears welled in Vanity’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She let the picture drop onto her lap and covered her face.

Aunt Ella fretted. “Darling, I didn’t mean to make you sad. I’m so sorry.”

Vanity sniffed and shook her head. “You didn’t. I’m okay.” The tears continued to fall, even when a knock at the door preceded Owen stepping into the house with Jamie in tow. Vanity wanted to hide so he wouldn’t see her cry, but he spotted her and pulled her onto his lap before she could take her next breath.

He stroked her back and kissed her hair. “Tell me what’s wrong, Vanity. I’ll fix it.”

She managed a chuckle. “You can’t fix it, but thank you. Please, let me go. I’m all right now.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re crying.” He raised her chin and tried kissing her, but she felt her aunt’s and Jamie’s gazes and turned her head.

“Stop, Owen, we’re not alone.” She dropped her voice down low, but Aunt Ella clapped her hands as if they put on a Christmas show for the crazy woman’s entertainment.

“Ella, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind letting Jamie help you in the kitchen?” Owen gave her a suggestive look while Vanity tried getting away from him. Aunt Ella took Jamie’s hand.

“Come on, little darling. You can help me set the table, and maybe test my double chocolate chip cookies.”

“Cookies,” Jamie shouted and all but dragged Aunt Ella from the room.

Owen turned Vanity’s face toward him. “Now.” He kissed her lips, and she gave in to having his tongue invade her mouth, his strong arms around her, and afterward having him brush tears from her cheeks.

“Talk to me, baby.”

She shivered and dropped her chin to her chest. She held up the picture to him, and he examined it. A shuddering sigh embarrassed her. “That was my first holiday living with Aunt Ella. I didn’t even know she took the picture. I was wrapped up in the food and the gifts. I guess all the emotions I felt came flooding back at once, and I cried.”

“What did you feel?”

She pressed her lips together and leaned on his chest. His embrace warmed her somehow and radiated a sense of safety. “Sad, angry, happy, relieved. I didn’t realize until they took me from my parents that I had been hoping they would get it together and do right by me, that one day I would be more important than their next drink. When the social worker escorted me to my aunt’s house, I fought to stay home. We had no heat and no food. I was so hungry, and winter break had just started. That would mean almost two weeks with nothing to eat. We didn’t have a tree or any decorations. For the first time, my father made no promises about what he would do. He didn’t try at all.

“Then Aunt Ella, as crazy as she is, was there with food and presents. But I considered it too late for me. I hated Christmas. On one hand I felt like she saved my life, but on the other I thought she gave me a chance, a fighting chance to get away and build my life on my own. I guess I love her for that.”

“You guess?” He nuzzled her ear.

“I don’t usually come down here at the holidays. I visit her other times in the year—once or twice.”

“You’re scared to trust anyone. I understand that after what you went through. If I could take it away, or take on all that hurt you’ve held on to, I would.”

Vanity managed to get out of his hold and stood up. She wandered over to the window and peered out. A light snowfall started, but from the wetness of the streets, it wouldn’t stick. “I’m not holding on to anything.”

“Your heart?”

She rolled her eyes and made a noise of disagreement, but he crossed the room to hug her.

“Everything I have in life, I got myself. I didn’t lean on anyone.”

“And yet…”

She frowned. “And yet what?”

“Dinner’s served,” Aunt Ella announced. “You’re eating, right, Owen? I made you a plate.”

Vanity shook her head, feeling somewhat better after the short conversation with Owen. “You ask him if he’s eating but then force him by already making him a plate.”

“I could eat.” Owen patted his stomach and then held out his hand to Vanity. She didn’t want her aunt to think they were a couple, but she couldn’t resist putting her hand in his.

Belly stuffed with turkey, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, two pieces of pie, Vanity vegged out on her aunt’s couch. Owen sat at her side, too close. His thigh brushed hers every so often, and she knew the bastard did it on purpose to drive her insane.

“Now for presents,” Aunt Ella announced.

Vanity stood and curled her feet beneath her. Across the room she noticed the curtain open, revealing the street beyond. The snow still came down, and in the corners of the windowpane, it collected, creating a beautiful scene. She turned away from it and focused on Jamie sitting on the floor amid a pile of presents from Aunt Ella, from his dad, and a couple from Vanity even though she hadn’t known him long.

From the healthy glow of his skin and the bits of cookie crumbs still on his mouth, she could see his daddy never let him go hungry. Jamie wouldn’t know a desperate need to believe his father loved him, and for some reason, it made her happy to realize it. While she didn’t regret the many years she had stayed away from family, she was glad she’d chosen this year to visit.

Jamie tore into each gift with a vengeance and whooped at every truck, dinosaur, and video game. Vanity sighed in relief when his reaction to her gift was no different, but then Owen had advised her on what to buy.

“This one is from me, Ella,” Owen told her aunt.

With true dramatic flare, her aunt put a hand to her chest, jingling all the way, “You didn’t have to give me anything, Owen, darling. I have everything I need having you and Jamie, and especially my Vanity here with me.”

A pang hit Vanity in the chest. “Go ahead and open it, Aunt Ella.”

Her aunt patted Owen’s hand and ripped the packaging apart with the same gusto Jamie had. She uncovered a huge box of scrapbooking supplies. Aunt Ella squealed. “I’ve been eyeballing this at Michael’s. You remember I told you I got a coupon in the mail, Owen? Oh, you’re such a good man. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

She stood from where she kneeled next to Jamie, and Owen moved quickly to help her. Aunt Ella reached up onto her toes and hugged him. Vanity looked on in wonder. He listened that much? Even to an older woman who must talk his ear off and drive him nuts always asking for his help? Vanity eyed her gift. She had listened as well about what Aunt Ella had said about her precious jewelry. Yet, she remembered Owen telling her it wasn’t the expensive music box that she wanted.

Vanity took the package up from beneath the tree. “I think maybe I should take this back, Aunt Ella. I… It’s probably not anything you need.”

Aunt Ella took the box and touched Vanity’s cheek. “You’re here. That’s the start of my gift. You bought this. That’s the rest of it. Because it’s from you, that’s all I care about.”

Vanity kept quiet and accepted the excited thanks from her aunt, but she knew Owen was right. She didn’t know Aunt Ella as well as he did or as she should. She had held herself away, fearful of being hurt or disappointed. She had depended on herself because, in her mind, others would let her down.

Later, when she went with Owen to his place to put Jamie to bed, she took his hand as they left his son’s room. “I think I know what you were going to say earlier.

In the hallway’s dim lighting, he peered at her in confusion. “When?”

She sucked in a breath and blew it out then let go of his hand to wring her fingers together. “I said I did it all on my own. I made a life for myself without anyone’s help. In and of itself, that’s fine, but my motives weren’t the best. I was scared to trust even Aunt Ella, who’s always been there for me. I didn’t know what she liked or wanted or needed because that would mean caring too much. And worst of all—”

Owen pulled her close, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to do this to yourself, baby. You’ve come through a lot in your life.”

“No, I want to. She lowered her head and nuzzled into his shoulder. “I’m so embarrassed and ashamed. I bought you that cologne.”

“Hey,” he chided, “you know me well enough now to know I do wear cologne.”

“Yeah, but I bought the one I did to impress you. I had something to prove, and I realized that’s all I’ve ever done—tried to prove my worth with what my money can buy. Even when I did it, I didn’t accept love from others. There comes a time when you have to see yourself for what you are, and then grow past it.”

“I’m glad you realize that because. Vanity?”

“Hm?”

“Look at me.”

She raised her gaze to his.

“I have fallen in love with you.”

Chapter Five

“You what?” Her eyes widened, and she moved back from him a pace. Her throat closed, and her hands shook. “I’m not…you can’t possibly…Owen!”

He guided her to the living room and had her sit down. “Easy, baby. You’re having a panic attack.”

“I do not have panic attacks, thank you very much.” No man, not any one she slept with had ever said those words to her, and she had made damn sure they wouldn’t. None stayed in her life long enough since dating wasn’t an option. Over the past couple of weeks, she and Owen had spent day and night with each other, shopping, eating together, taking walks, just hanging out. How had she let this happen? How could she forget her unspoken rules and get so lax that he fell in love?

In love…with me? That’s not possible.
She closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands. Of course someone loving her was possible. Aunt Ella told her every time they spoke on the phone, and Vanity believed her. Logic said Vanity was not some ogre incapable of striking love in the heart of a man, and yet this one, this amazing person?

“I don’t know what I feel,” she murmured.

He raised her chin and kissed her. “It’s okay. I’m not asking you to feel or say anything. I only wanted you to know. Now you do, and we can leave it there for the time being.”

“Owen.”

“Stay the night with me.”

“But Jamie’s here.”

“Stay. Please.” He held his hand out to her, and she put hers in his. They walked to the stairs together and headed up to his room. While Owen shut the door, she unbuttoned the fastenings on her dress and pulled it over her head, She slipped out of her shoes and removed her underwear. Owen appeared arrested by the sight of her naked body. For a few frozen moments, he didn’t move from his spot at the door. He dragged his T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor. When he pinched open the button on his pants, Vanity was the motionless one.

As if she hadn’t seen his perfect, male form a dozen times, she stared as he undressed. When he was done, he crooked a finger at her. “Come here, baby.”

The less forceful command didn’t ignite nervous excitement as it did all the other occasions he took charge. This time, the emotions roiling to life in Vanity’s heart were a reaction to his tenderness, as if he communicated he would care for her, even while she feared him.

Vanity steeled herself against the butterflies taking flight in her belly. “How about a bubble bath together?”

He smiled. “I don’t have bubbles, and I’m not letting you out of my sight to go get some.”

They found bath gel she left at his place and softened the warm water with a scent of country flowers. Vanity climbed in with her lover, and he washed her back. She lay between his legs, enjoying the feel of his chest and the embrace he wrapped her in.

Owen picked up the washcloth and poured bath gel into it. He worked the material until suds formed, and then he ran the warm rag over her skin. A tingle of pleasure arrowed down between her legs. She leaned up and kissed his chin. “Owen?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you so good?”

The sad smile surprised her. “I’m not good. I’m not perfect, Vanity. I have my shortcomings. Granted, I’m not the kind of man who will run around on the woman I’m with. I’m not likely to get into a drunken bar fight.”

She sighed in relief of that one. When she was small, her father had come home with many a bruise or a blackened eye. He had anger issues, and any little thing set him off on a tirade. She thanked God at least neither she nor her mother had ever been physically abused.