Cries in the Night (25 page)

“Hmmm,” she murmured, loving the feel of his hands on her skin.

His hands slid down her arms and entwined with her fingers. Gently, he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go to bed. You’ve been working too hard.”

As much as she wanted to stay there and let him caress her, she had to admit that she was dead on her feet. These last few days had been the best and the worst of her life. She and Rusty had spent almost every non-working moment together which had been wonderful. They had even run into each other on several calls when they had both been on-shift.

But as with all holidays, victim’s advocate calls were double what they were on a normal night. The closer it got to Christmas, the more the number and the intensity increased. She had taken Brenda’s shifts as well as her own, so she had had to work three of the last six nights.

She let him lead her to the bedroom. With a yawn, she went into the bathroom, took out the brown contact lens and left them soaking in their container. Another yawn as she squeezed toothpaste on the brush. It was almost more of an effort to move her hand up and down than it was worth. She spit and rinsed, then quickly stripped out of her clothes, pulled on a short, soft cotton nightgown and returned to the bedroom.

Rusty was already in bed, naked of course because he didn’t even own a pair of pajamas. He pulled the covers back, revealing the most desirable place on earth … a spot next to him. She switched off the lamp and crawled in, immediately scooting over until her back was spooned against his chest. He covered her with the comforter, then wrapped his arms around her.

“Goodnight, angel,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

“Night, Rusty,” she said, barely able to get the words out before her eyes closed. As much as she loved the sex, she treasured the time when they just cuddled or, like now, slept in each other’s arms.

Thankfully, her phone didn’t ring again and they were able to sleep through until the alarm went off at seven a.m. They hadn’t moved much during the night and woke up still lying closely. Julie rolled over and buried her face in the curve of his neck. He leaned back and kissed her closed eyelids.

“Can’t you call in sick today? You didn’t get enough sleep.” He brushed the silky mass of hair back from her face.

“I’ve got a couple interviews for new volunteers this morning,” she told him without enthusiasm. “Besides, it’s the last day before Christmas Eve, so I really have to go in. What are you going to do today?”

“Nothing special.” He stretched. “I need to take my Explorer into the shop to get the oil changed and it needs a bath. With all the slush on the roads, you can barely tell it’s red.”

Reluctantly she threw back the covers and sat up. A glance back at his sleepy eyes and the sexy grin proved irresistible and she leaned over and gave him a lazy good-morning kiss.

He groaned. “Are you sure you can’t be late?”

“I’m sure, but I’m not on call tonight, so I’ll be home early.”

“Promises, promises,” he grumbled, but he knew she was as devoted to her career as he was.

She shuffled into the bathroom where she started her preparations for the day. When she was putting in the contact lens, he walked in behind her. She looked up and saw he was studying her in the mirror.

“I still don’t understand why you wear brown contacts. You don’t need the vision correction, your blue eyes are way more beautiful, and you’re not a vain person, so I’m not buying the looks excuse.”

It was a conversation she had been dreading. Since she didn’t know how long the relationship was going to last, she hadn’t really volunteered any more personal information than he had asked for. As she thought about how to answer, she brushed her hair, twisted it and clipped it on top of her head.

“And this?” he asked, perversely taking out the clip and letting her hair fall free. “Why don’t you let your hair hang down like this.” He ran his fingers through the silky strands and let them fall back in place. “You’re an attractive woman. Why do you go to such lengths to make yourself appear ordinary?”

Julie sighed and dropped her head. “I’m not sure now is the right time for this discussion.”

He gripped her shoulders and turned her around until she faced him. “Actually, I think now is the perfect time. You and I have spent a lot of intimate moments together these last two weeks. We’ve shared everything. I’ve told you about my family, my friends and even my ex-girlfriends. You’ve never told me anything about yourself. Other than a vague reference to Connecticut, I don’t know where you grew up, where you went to college or why you’ve been living like a nun.” He cupped his hand under her chin and lifted her face so she was forced to look into his eyes. “Julie, what are you running away from?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s … it’s just too painful.”

And you don’t trust me enough …?”

“No, it’s not that at all,” she hurried to assure him. “I really do have to get to the office. We’ll talk about it tonight.”

“Promise?”

She nodded. “Promise.” Anxious to push the disapproval from his eyes, she stretched up and kissed him. “I’ve got to run. Please set the alarm when you leave.”

Rusty watched as she rushed from the room, practically threw on some clothes and hurried out of the house. She was clearly keeping something from him. As he showered, all the possibilities ran through his mind. But none seemed logical or plausible. He thought he had gotten to know her relatively well. They talked for hours about everything imaginable.

Apparently, not everything.

He dressed, turned on the alarm and locked the door as he left. She had given him the code several days ago so he could let himself in when she was out on a call. She trusted him with her home, her safety and her body. She just hadn’t trusted him with her secrets.

It was two days before Christmas, and he knew all his friends would be busy. Most of them had kids, and that meant there was always last minute shopping, gift wrapping and whatever else parents did to keep the myth of Santa Claus alive. His brothers were both sleeping today because they worked nights. That left only his mom. She would probably be busy baking pies and cookies. Even though her sons were all grown up and she didn’t have any grandkids yet, she still went all out with the decorating and the goodies. Maybe it was a perfect day to visit his mom after all.

He dropped by his condo for a change of clothes. As much as he was enjoying his nights with Julie, not ever sleeping at his own place was getting old. He felt silly carrying his personal items in a little travel bag. It gave him a little insight into how women must feel after spending the night with a lover. It was awkward, kind of the masculine version of the walk of shame.

His mother, Pat, tried to get everyone together for family dinners at least once a month. It was difficult with the three boys working shifts and often called in for overtime. She didn’t let that discourage her, and most of the boys were able to make the dinners. However, the rules were more strict for holidays, especially Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter and Mother’s Day. It wasn’t so important to his dad who preferred to spend Father’s Day golfing or at a baseball game, but no one dared make excuses to Mom.

It took him about forty minutes to drive to Parker. There was snow in the forecast and everyone was hoping for a white Christmas, but so far the only signs were some thick clouds building over the mountains. Denver seldom had snow on Christmas Day, so it was more likely that the storm would wear itself out before reaching them. The sun was shining brightly as he turned into the familiar driveway that led to his parents’ home.

His parents had bought five acres and had the house built in the early Eighties, and all three boys had grown up there. A few years ago, after Rusty and Sam had moved out and Chris was in the military, his parents had completely remodeled the interior, so it looked like a new house. Even with new appliances and flooring, the place still looked the same at Christmas. Every year just after Thanksgiving, Mom carried dozens of boxes up from the basement and hung garland on the stairs, stockings on the fireplace and a big wreath on the front door. She always insisted on having a real tree that almost touched the fourteen-foot peak
of the vaulted ceiling in the family room and decorated it with ornaments that ranged from delicate blown glass to handmade items from the boys’ childhood.

Rusty knocked on the front door, then walked in without waiting for a response. The fragrance of freshly baked pies pulled him to the kitchen as if he was being led by a leash.

His mom was rolling out red-colored dough on the granite countertop. “Hey, kiddo. You’re just in time to help me make cookies.”

He plucked off a chunk of dough and put it into his mouth. “Hmmm … how did you know I was coming?”

“Mom’s have a sixth sense about these things.”

“Your sugar cookies are the best.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I use powdered sugar instead of granulated. It makes them lighter and more crispy.”

He pinched off another piece and she swatted his hand away.

When she had the dough at the correct thickness, he picked up a cookie cutter shaped like a tree and started stamping out shapes. His mom reached out and grabbed it away from him.

“Wait until I bring out the green dough for the trees and the wreaths. You know better than that.”

Rusty smiled and picked up a star. “I like red trees.”

“You’ve always been a rebel,” she accused, but her expression was indulgent. “So, what’s going on in your life?”

“Nothing.” He stamped out a row of stars, then switched to a stocking.

“That’s not what I heard.”

He looked up at her curiously. “Oh?”

“Sam and Kate invited Dad and me over for dinner yesterday. They said you’ve been dating a new woman and it looked pretty serious.”

He hesitated. He honestly didn’t know how to respond. Was it serious? Had his relationship with Julie moved out of the friend zone and into … What? What was the next phase? He’d never been there before, so he didn’t recognize it or know how to proceed. He sighed. Even if his feelings were changing, he didn’t think Julie’s were.

There was no doubt that they were compatible sexually. All he had to do was think about the way she looked, all soft and glowing, after they made love or the way she touched him, so tentative, yet so eager or how her hair smelled or … God, he realized he was getting hard and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. Yes, she turned him on. Lots of women had. It was just that Julie was so much more.

She challenged him intellectually so that their conversations were never reduced to inane discussions about shoes or Heidi Klum’s latest boyfriend. He didn’t have to explain how it felt to recover a body from a fire or the huge sense of accomplishment when you carried out a live one that you knew would survive. She fit in his life like no one else ever had. He was relaxed and comfortable around her.

All of which terrified him to his core.

Besides, she had showed him no signs that she was interested in anything beyond what they had. Unlike other women, she never dropped hints about getting married. She hadn’t even hesitated at the mall when they passed a jewelry store window that was filled with sparkling engagement rings. There wasn’t a single issue of
Bride
magazine in her house and she never dropped hints such as what sort of flowers she wanted at her wedding or where she’d like to go on a honeymoon. She didn’t mention wanting children or that her clock was ticking, whatever the hell that meant.

And there was that whole thing about her contact lens and severe hair-dos that made no sense to him. To add to the mystery, she wasn’t very forthcoming about it either. For a woman who encouraged people to talk about their troubled past, innermost fears and worst problems, she was surprisingly silent about hers.

“I’ve been dating someone, but I don’t know how serious it is,” Rusty finally answered his mom with total honesty.

“Why don’t you invite her to join us for Christmas … unless she has her own family?”

“No, she wouldn’t come. Actually, she’s working that day. She’s the head of the Victim’s Advocate Dept.”

“Is she the one I met that awful day you were kidnapped? The one who saved your life?”

“Yes, that was her.”

Pat nodded her approval. “She seemed very nice … and genuinely concerned about you.”

They transferred the cookies to a cookie sheet. Rusty picked up a container of colored sprinkles and shook a generous amount on each cookie. His mom put the pans in the oven and set the timer.

“Do you want a glass of milk while we wait?”

“Sure,” he answered, having a flashback to when he was twenty years younger and sitting in this same kitchen, drinking a glass of milk with his mom while they waited for the cookies to bake. Instead of making him feel comforted, he was a little shaken by the thought at how time was passing him by.

He was thirty years old, loved his job and his condo, but was that all there was to life?

The irony was not lost on him that for a man who had never spent a whole night with a woman or woke up in someone else’s bed, he was now practically living in the home of a woman who was basically using him for sex and safety. It was more than ironic; it was humiliating. He felt a hint of shame at how he had treated women in the past with the same cavalier attitude.