Holiday Wishes (17 page)

“You didn’t. You don’t.” Her heart melted as she slid her arms around him. She’d meant that, too, as a comfort. But something more, something deeper, was stirring inside her. “You made it sound as if you love them. It’s very appealing to hear a man say that he thinks of his children as a gift. And to know he means it.”

He was holding her, and he wasn’t quite sure how it had happened. It seemed so easy, so natural, to have her settled in his arms. “When you’re given a gift, an important one, you have to be careful with it.” His voice thickened with a mix of emotions. His children. Her. Something about the way she was looking up at him, the way her lips curved. He lifted a hand to stroke her hair, lingered over it a moment before he remembered to back away. “I should go.”

“Stay.” It was so easy, she discovered, to ask him. So easy, after all, to need him. “You know I want you to stay. You know I want you.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her face, and the need was so much bigger, so much sweeter, than he’d ever imagined. “It could complicate things, Nell. I’ve got a lot of baggage. Most of it’s in storage, but—”

“I don’t care.” Her breath trembled out. “I don’t even have any pride at the moment. Make love with me, Mac.” On a sigh, she pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his. “Just love me tonight.”

He couldn’t resist. It was a fantasy that had begun to wind through him, body and mind, the moment he first met her. She was all softness, all warmth. He’d done without both of those miraculous female gifts for so long.

Now, with her mouth on his and her arms twined around him, she was all he could want.

He’d never considered himself romantic. He wondered if a woman like Nell would prefer candlelight, soft music, perfumed air. But the scene was already set. He could do nothing more than lift her into his arms and carry her to the bedroom.

He turned on a lamp, surprised at how suddenly his nerves vanished when he saw hers reflected in her eyes.

“I’ve thought about this a long time,” he told her. “I want to see you, every minute I’m touching you. I want to see you.”

“Good.” She looked up at him and his smile soothed away some of her tension. “I want to see you.”

He carried her to the bed and lay down beside her, stroking a hand through her hair, over her shoulders. Then he dipped his head to kiss her.

It was so easy, as if they had shared nights and intimacy for years. It was so thrilling, as if each of them had come to the bed as innocent as a babe.

A touch, a taste, patient and lingering. A murmur, a sigh, soft and quiet. His hands never rushed, only pleasured, stroking over her, unfastening buttons, pausing to explore.

Her skin quivered under his caress even as it heated. A hundred pulse points thrummed, speeding at the brush of a fingertip, the flick of a tongue. Her own hands trembled, pulling a laughing groan from her that ended on a broken whimper when she at last found flesh.

Making love. The phrase had never been truer to her. For here was an exquisite tenderness mixed with a lustful curiosity that overpowered the senses, tangled in the system like silken knots. Each time his mouth returned to hers, it went deeper, wider, higher, so that he was all that existed for her. All that needed to.

She gave with a depthless generosity that staggered him. She fit, body to body, with him, with a perfection that thrilled. Each time he thought his control would slip, he found himself sliding easily back into the rhythm they set.

Slow, subtle, savoring.

She was small, delicately built. The fragility he sensed made his hands all the more tender. Even as she arched and cried out the first time, he didn’t hurry. It was gloriously arousing for him simply to watch her face, that incredibly expressive face, as every emotion played over it.

He fought back the need to bury himself inside her, clung to control long enough to protect them both. Their eyes locked when at last he slipped into her. Her breath caught and released, and then her lips curved.

Outside, the wind played against the windows, making a music like sleigh bells. And the first snow of the season began to fall as quietly as a wish.

Chapter 8

He couldn’t get enough of her. Mac figured at worst it was a kind of insanity, at best a temporary obsession. No matter how many demands there were on his time, his brain, his emotions, he still found odd moments, day and night, to think about Nell.

Though he knew it was cynical, he wished it could have been just sex. If it was only sex, he could put it down to hormones and get back to business. But he didn’t just imagine her in bed, or fantasize about finding an hour to lose himself in that trim little body.

Sometimes, when she slipped into his head, she was standing in front of a group of children, directing their voices with her hands, her arms, her whole self. Or she’d be seated at the piano, with his boys on either side of her, laughing with them. Or she’d just be walking through town, with her hands in her pockets and her face lifted toward the sky.

She scared him right down to the bone.

And she, he thought as he measured his baseboard trim, she was so easy about the whole thing. That was a woman for you, he decided. They didn’t have to worry about making the right moves, saying the right thing. They just had to . . . to be, he thought. That was enough to drive a man crazy.

He couldn’t afford to be crazy. He had kids to raise, a business to run. Hell, he had laundry to do if he ever got home. And damn it, he’d forgotten to take the chicken out of the freezer again.

They’d catch burgers on the way to the concert, he told himself. He had enough on his mind without having to fix dinner. Christmas was barreling toward him, and the kids were acting strange.

Just the bikes, Dad, they told him. Santa’s making them, and he’s taking care of the big present.

What big present? Mac wondered. No interrogation, no tricks, had pulled out that particular answer. For once his kids were closed up tight. That was an idea that disturbed him. He knew that in another year, two if he was lucky, they’d begin to question and doubt the existence of Santa and magic. The end of innocence. Whatever it was they were counting on for Christmas morning, he wanted to see that they found it under the tree.

But they just grinned at him when he prodded and told him it was a surprise for all three of them.

He’d have to work on it. Mac hammered the trim into place. At least they’d gotten the tree up and baked some cookies, strung the popcorn. He felt a little twinge of guilt over the fact that he’d evaded Nell’s offer to help with the decorating. And ignored the kids when they asked if she could come over and trim the tree with them.

Was he the only one who could see what a mistake it would be to have his children become too attached? She’d only been in town for a few months. She could leave at any time. Nell might find them cute, attractive kids, but she didn’t have any investment in them.

Damn it, now
he
was making them sound like stocks and bonds.

It wasn’t what he meant, Mac assured himself. He simply wasn’t going to allow anyone to walk out on his sons again.

He wouldn’t risk it, not for anything in heaven or on earth.

After nailing the last piece of baseboard in place, he nodded in approval. The house was coming together just fine. He knew what he was doing there. Just as he knew what he was doing with the boys.

He only wished he had a better idea of what to do with Nell.

“Maybe it’ll happen tonight.” Zeke watched his breath puff out like smoke as he and his twin sat in the tree house, wrapped against the December chill in coats and scarves.

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“But it’s the Christmas concert,” Zeke said stubbornly. He was tired of waiting for the mom. “That’s where we saw her first. And they’ll have the music and the tree and stuff, so it’ll be like Christmas.”

“I don’t know.” Zack liked the idea, a lot, but was more cautious. “Maybe, but we don’t get any presents until Christmas.”

“We do, too. When Mr. Perkins pretends to be Santa at the party at the firehouse. That’s whole weeks before Christmas, and he gives all the kids presents.”

“Not
real
presents. Not stuff you ask for.” But Zack set his mind to it. “Maybe if we wish real hard. Dad likes her a lot. Aunt Mira was telling Uncle Dave that Dad’s found the right woman even if he doesn’t know it.” Zack’s brow creased. “How could he not know it if he found her?”

“Aunt Mira’s always saying stuff that doesn’t make sense,” Zeke said, with the easy disdain of the young. “Dad’s going to marry her, and she’s going to come live with us and be the mom. She has to be. We’ve been good, haven’t we?”

“Uh-huh.” Zack played with the toe of his boot. “Do you think she’ll love us and all that?”

“Probably.” Zeke shot his twin a look. “I love her already.”

“Me too.” Zack smiled in relief. Everything was going to be okay after all.

* * *

“All right, people.” Nell pitched her voice above the din in the chorus room. It doubled as backstage on concert nights, and students were swarming around, checking clothes, makeup and hair and working off preperformance jitters by talking at the top of their lungs. “Settle down.”

One of her students had his head between his knees, fighting off acute stage fright. Nell sent him a sympathetic smile as her group began to quiet.

“You’ve all worked really hard for tonight. I know a lot of you are jumpy because you have friends and family out in the audience. Use the nerves to sharpen your performance. Please try to remember to go out onstage in the organized, dignified manner we’ve practiced.”

There were some snickers at that. Nell merely lifted a brow. “I should have said remember to be more dignified and more orderly than you’ve managed at practice. Diaphragms,” she said. “Projection. Posture. Smiles.” She paused, lifted a hand. “And above all, I expect you to remember the most vital ingredient in tonight’s performance. Enjoy it,” she said, and grinned. “It’s Christmas. Now let’s go knock ’em dead.”

Her heart was doing some pretty fancy pumping of its own as she directed the children onstage, watched them take their positions on the risers as the murmurs from the audience rose and ebbed. For many, Nell knew, this concert would be her first test. Decisions from the community would be made tonight as to whether the school board had made a good or a bad choice in their new music teacher.

She took a deep breath, tugged at the hem of her velvet jacket and stepped onstage.

There was polite applause as she approached the solo mike.

“Welcome to Taylor’s Grove High School’s holiday concert,” she began.

“Gosh, Dad, doesn’t Miss Davis look pretty?”

“Yeah, Zack, she does.”
Lovely
was more the word, he thought, in that soft-looking deep forest green suit, with holly berries in her hair and a quick, nervous smile on her face.

She looked terrific in the spotlight. He wondered if she knew it.

At the moment, all Nell knew was nerves. She wished she could see faces clearly. She’d always preferred seeing her audience when she was performing. It made it more intimate, more fun. After her announcement, she turned, saw every student’s eyes on hers, then smiled in reassurance.

“Okay, kids,” she murmured, in an undertone only they could hear. “Let’s rock.”

She started them off with a bang, the Springsteen number, and it had eyes popping wide in the audience. This was not the usual yawn-inspiring program most had been expecting.

When the applause hit, Nell felt the tension dissolve. They’d crossed the first hurdle. She segued from the fun to the traditional, thrilled when the auditorium filled with the harmony on “Cantate Domine,” delighted when her sopranos soared on “Adeste Fideles,” grinning when they bounced into “Jingle Bell Rock,” complete with the little stage business of swaying and hand clapping they’d worked on.

And her heart swelled when Kim approached the mike and the first pure notes of her solo flowed into the air.

“Oh, Dave.” Sniffling, Mira clutched her husband’s hand, then Mac’s. “Our baby.”

Nell’s prediction had been on target. When Kim stepped back in position, there were damp eyes in every row. They closed the concert with “Silent Night,” only voices, no piano. The way it was meant to be sung, Nell had told her students. The way it was written to be sung.

When the last note died and she turned to gesture to her chorus, the audience was already on its feet. The kick of it jolted through her as she turned her head, saw the slack jaws, wide eyes and foolish grins of her students.

Nell swallowed tears, waiting until the noise abated slightly before crossing to the mike again. She knew how to play it.

“They were terrific, weren’t they?”

As she’d hoped, that started the cheers and applause all over again. She waited it out.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming, for supporting the chorus. I owe a special thanks to the parents of the singers onstage tonight for their patience, their understanding, and their willingness to let me share their children for a few hours every day. Every student onstage has worked tremendously hard for tonight, and I’m delighted that you appreciate their talent, and their effort. I’d like to add that the poinsettias you see onstage were donated by Hill Florists and are for sale at three dollars a pot. Proceeds to go to the fund for new choir uniforms. Merry Christmas, and come back.”

Before she could step away from the mike, Kim and Brad were standing on either side of her.

“There’s just one more thing.” Brad cleared his throat until the rustling in the audience died down. “The chorus would like to present a token of appreciation to Miss Davis for all her work and encouragement. Ah . . .” Kim had written the speech out, but Brad had been designated to say it. He fumbled a little, grinned self-consciously at Kim. “This is Miss Davis’s first concert at Taylor High. Ah . . .” He just couldn’t remember all the nice words Kim had written, so he said what he felt. “She’s the best. Thanks, Miss Davis.”

“We hope you like it,” Kim murmured under the applause as she handed Nell a brightly wrapped box. “All the kids chipped in.”