The Christmas Bride (8 page)

He kissed her lips. Then he moved away, rising on one elbow. He watched while she donned her suit, then comfortably slipped into his own. “I'll walk you down for your robe and back to your room.”

“You don't have to.”

“I said I'll walk you back.”

Cary's suit was still soaked, so cold after the warmth they had shared! As she hurried for the door to the stairway, she brushed by the bedside table, looking down as she struck it with her thigh.

And she stared at the picture. The picture of Sara McCready. Smiling so beautifully.

Oh, God. But Jason didn't seem to notice. He moved past her, opening the door, then starting down ahead of her. He found her robe by the pool and set it around her shoulders, then smiled. “You're shivering.”

“I'm cold.”

“You could have stayed warmly by my side.”

“We both have children.”

“We had more time.”

“No.” She shook her head, backing away from him.

“Cary, if you regret anything—”

“No, I don't regret anything. It was wonderful. You know that. I mean…” Oh, she wasn't good at this; she wasn't good at all. She might as well be honest. “It was my first time since…Richard. And maybe I will be able to start seeing people again now. Thank you. But I need to be alone.”

“Cary—”

“I have to go!”

“Wait!” he said demandingly.

Why was she feeling such a swift rise of panic and handling things so poorly? “I have to go! And I don't care what my leaving means. Even if you fire me!”

His jaw went very square. “Cary! I'm not firing you!”

The panic left her suddenly. But she still needed to escape. “So I don't have to clean out my desk,” she murmured. She wanted to laugh, wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself against him all over again.

But most of all she wanted to be alone. Alone to deal with the sudden anguish that seized her now. She couldn't let him walk her back. She turned and ran from the pool to the steps that led to the balcony, then back to her own room.

 

She spent the morning desperately trying to feel and act normally.

She must have done a better job than she had expected, because neither Danny nor Angela seemed to notice anything amiss. Cary didn't know where Jason was; she hadn't gotten a note from him, and he didn't appear at the table when they went down for breakfast.

To Cary's dismay, he did appear at the bunny slopes that afternoon. And although he had a meeting scheduled, he just brought the meeting to the bunny slopes with him. Cary recognized a number of the sales staff. They had looked a little dazed at the locale he'd chosen, but nobody was about to say anything.

Cary thought the whole thing was ridiculous. Especially when she skied down the little slope and, despite her very best efforts and determination, ended up on her hind end in the snow. Jason was there, smooth and sleek and infuriatingly comfortable on his skis, to assist her. “We're going to talk tonight,” he told her briefly.

“No! The children—”

“The children are going to the lodge's kids' dinner club. They're going to have hot dogs and play games and pop popcorn to string on the tree. And they're going to sing Christmas carols and make Christmas gifts and have a great time. It is the Christmas Season! Have a little spirit!” he told her. “Be ready at six.” By then he had her on her feet and was gliding away.

She couldn't begin to move so quickly. She could hardly move at all.

“Be ready for what?” she demanded.

But Jason McCready either didn't hear her or didn't intend to answer.

 

Danny left early for the kids' dinner club. That gave Cary time to bathe and dress carefully. She didn't know where she was going, so she chose a black velvet dress that she hoped was both concealing and elegant. She wasn't going to run away tonight. She was just going to explain that they couldn't go any further. Because…

Because she needed her job. And she couldn't bear for things to be awkward.

And because she didn't want to be one of his long string of women.

And that was the real rub, she admitted, seeing her features pale in the mirror as she slipped on her little pearl earrings.

Why? What did it matter? she asked herself. He was good for her. He would open up the world that she had closed away, and then she could go on.

No. She couldn't.

Because she cared about him, she admitted. Because he had fascinated her from the start. Because no one else could draw the things from her that he had drawn so easily. No one else could make her forget Richard.

She hadn't forgotten Richard.

Yes, she had. For those precious moments in Jason's arms, she had forgotten.

She closed her eyes. He had made her say his name. But he had never spoken hers.

There was a knock on the door to the suite. Cary grabbed her coat and hurried out. She didn't want him coming into her room.

His room, really. The whole lodge was his.

She was breathless when she threw the door open and saw him. His eyes were bright. He was still angry, she thought.

And in jeans and a leather jacket, he was far more casually dressed than she was.

“Oh! I'll change,” she murmured.

“No, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all. Not where we're going. Come on.”

“Where
are
we going?” Cary demanded.

He could move so quickly when he was in a hurry. He had her by her elbow, and he hadn't answered her question. In front of the lodge there were too many people around, all greeting Jason and nodding to her, for her to say anything. But finally they were in the Jeep, and she repeated her question. “Where are we going?”

“There.” He pointed to a structure just up the hill. Cary sighed. For a man who wanted to talk, he was extremely untalkative.

And she still had no idea where they were going.

The ride was too short, and yet it was also interminable. As soon as they entered the wooden building on the hill, she realized it was a private château, and that someone had readied it for their arrival. A fire was burning in the grate, and a delicious aroma was wafting from chafing dishes on the rustic table.

Jason removed his jacket, casting it onto one of the couches. He didn't take her coat, but walked straight to the table, lifting the cover off one of the dishes. “Beef Stroganoff. And, let's see, a very nice white burgundy. Have a seat.”

He pulled out her chair. Cary still had her coat on. “Jason, I never agreed to a private—”

“Did you want to discuss our sexual relationship publicly?” he demanded.

“We don't have a relationship!” she insisted.

He smiled. “Fine. Sit down and tell me why.”

Exasperated, Cary groaned, doffed her coat and then took the seat he had pulled out for her. He poured the wine, then sat opposite her. His eyes met hers as he lifted his glass to her.

“Well?”

“I just can't see you anymore,” she said.

“Why not?”

“You're my boss, for one thing.”

“We're nowhere near work.”

“But we will be.”

“This has nothing to do with work, and you know it.”

Cary sipped her wine. “All right. All right—you need another reason? I don't care to be one of the crowd.”

“The crowd?” One brow shot up. “Really, it isn't that bad, is it?”

She flushed. “I just don't—”

He leaned across the table. His fingers closed over hers. The warmth was electric. Seductive…frightening.

“I enjoy you. I like you. I admire you.”

“You're lost, sunk, in your memories!” Cary told him.

He smiled ruefully. “I am? All right, then, Cary. We have everything in common. You're in love with a ghost, too. But admit it, you're having fun with me. You opened up. You didn't do anything casual or careless last night. You made love with me! And that's a hell of a lot more than you've managed before!”

She jumped up, and his wineglass slammed down. “At least I'm not always trying to run away!” he exploded.

But you're not in love with me, either! Cary thought. And then she paused at the awful realization that maybe, just maybe, she was falling in love with him. It had started when he had picked her up for the week….

No. It had started before that. It had started with the fascination she felt each time she saw him.

And now…

“Give it this week,” he said.

“What?”

“You're having fun. Hell, you're even having sex. Give it this week. Then, if you want to stop, we will. We can go back to work and never even nod in the hallways.”

She should have said no right then.

He had brought her here, to complete privacy. To complete intimacy. But he would take her home if she wanted. She knew that. She had only to say the word.

But…

She liked the lodge. She liked being with the children. And she liked being with him. She liked his slow smile, his laughter, and she even liked seeing the weariness slip from his eyes.

And she liked his chest. Naked.

The rest of the week…

It was almost Christmas. She owed it to herself.

She sank slowly into her chair. “We'll have dinner,” she murmured.

And they did. Just dinner. But then it began to snow, and they stood at the window and watched the snowflakes falling. Then they sat before the fire and started to talk about baseball and all the things that little girls needed, and children in general.

Suddenly they were stretched out on the floor beside the flames.

And Cary knew that she wanted to make love. Again.

The flames in front of them, and between them, began to climb higher and higher.

Outside, the Christmas lights flickered red and green.

And Cary knew that she had given herself a bigger Christmas present than she had known. She had given herself laughter and a little bit of Christmas spirit….

And even a little taste of peace.

T
he week passed in a whirl.

And while it was happening, Cary had to admit that it was the best time she could remember having.

For one thing, she became a passable skier. Between Jason and Angela, she had plenty of help. And plenty of laughter each time she or Danny pitched into the snow.

The laughter. Perhaps that was what she would remember the most. Or maybe it was the warmth, the quiet evenings. Or maybe the sheer excitement of feeling alive and aware and sensual again.

He told her to relax, to try to have fun.

And she did. They swam; they skied; they ate. They spent time with the children, and they spent time alone. They took lazy walks, and they played in the privacy of the Jacuzzi in Cary's room. They listened to the endless hum of Christmas carols heralding the season, and they went on sleigh rides with bells jingling.

Danny had the time of his life.

But the week came to an end, and though Jason acted as if nothing needed to change because they went back, Cary knew that it would. The week had been a fantasy. Now they were in the real world. It was an uneasy feeling, and as she lay awake the Sunday night before she had to go to work, she regretted what she had done even as she dreamed about the days gone by.

And then there was Jason.

Courteous, charming. He'd made her laugh so easily. And she'd never imagined a more tender or exciting lover. But now it was time to remember that he moved swiftly, that no matter how easy he had been to be with, he was still in love with Sara, and if he thought that Cary was coming too close, he would move on.

She slept very little that night.

Monday morning passed by without her seeing him. She had lunch with June, determined that she wasn't going to give anything away. Nothing. And despite June's persistence, she stuck to her story that it had been a nice week, that Jason had been charming, that Danny and Angela had enjoyed a great time—and nothing more.

She thought she would see Jason sometime during the day, but she didn't. And she didn't know whether she was anxious, or very, very glad.

A second day passed without her seeing him, and then a third and a fourth. She lay awake at night, tossing and turning. She remembered his every touch, and she clenched her teeth tightly, thinking how ironic it was that she had finally fallen in love again.

With a man who not only couldn't love her, but didn't even want to see her again.

She had warned herself. Again and again, she had warned herself.

By Friday she had stubbornly convinced herself that she was not going to go from living in one kind of hell to living in another. If he asked her to dinner, to a show, to coffee—to anything—ever again, she would refuse.

To make matters worse, June plagued her at lunch every day. And it was the Christmas season. Everywhere she turned, people were singing about tidings of joy.

“Maybe you'll have a date for the pre-Christmas Eve party,” June teased her at lunch on Friday.

Cary clenched her teeth. “June, I had a nice time last week. I enjoyed both the McCreadys. That's all.”

“And did the McCreadys enjoy you?”

“June, drop it,” Cary said warningly.

But it was when she returned to her office after lunch that she found the computer. And, as it happened, June was with her.

“It's that system that Danny wanted so much! The one you thought you couldn't afford!” June exclaimed. “How did it get here? Who would have…oh!” She stared hard at Cary, then she started to laugh. “I guess one McCready did enjoy you. Very much.”

“June!” Cary gasped.

“Oh, kid, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by that. Except that you must have…well, I mean, you must have had a really good time. And
he
must have had a really good time, too. Oh, I'm not making this sound any better, am I? Gee, I wonder how many other people saw this come in here?”

Damn Jason McCready. He'd forced her into falling for him, then ignored her….

And then managed to turn her into the most delectable piece of office gossip in months.

Cary's cheeks were flaming, and she couldn't think of a single word to say to June. She probably shouldn't accost Jason now, in his office. His secretary would hear her, and the staff would probably be buzzing by the end of the afternoon.

Damn Jeremy and his Christmas dust! Cary thought furiously. The computer was in her office, and it must look like some kind of payment for services above and beyond the call of duty. Well, nuts to timing! She strode out of the office, down the hall and to the elevators. And she didn't wait for Jason's secretary to announce her, she waved and went right through the door.

Jason had been expecting to hear from Cary. He'd been waiting for a call.

This past week had been bedlam—absolute bedlam—and he'd played catch-up from morning until night. He'd driven by her apartment on his way home from work twice, but it had been late, and when he'd been about to go up to see if she was awake, he had been amazed to find his hands trembling, and he'd driven home instead.

Early this morning, he'd thought of the computer. He hoped it was the right one and that she would tell him how much it would mean to Danny. The boy had talked about it often enough on the trip, telling Angela all the wonderful things he had been able to do on it in school.

He wanted to talk to Cary. He wanted to hear her voice again. From the minute he had left her at her door, he had missed her. Missed the gold in her gaze, the curve of her smile. He missed the simple beauty of her face and the lithe, sensual beauty of her form. He missed being near someone who shared his love for children; he missed the way she could laugh at herself when she landed in the snow. He missed her eyes, steady and sure when she told him something she was determined he should hear. And he missed her sighs and her whispers and the wonder in her eyes when they made love. Just remembering made an ache rise hauntingly within him.

He had lain awake all night thinking about it, and he had awakened that morning amazed to feel an aching in his heart. He wanted the week back. He wanted to be with her. For the first time in five years he had been happy. He hoped the computer would make her happy, too.

Apparently it didn't.

He was amazed when she stormed into his office, her eyes gleaming with fury, her beautiful features as tense as iron. There was a pencil between her hands. And even before she began to speak, it snapped.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” she demanded.

Defensively, he was on his feet. He walked around the desk and perched on the edge of it, his arms crossed over his chest. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“The computer!”

“It's for Danny.”

“Oh, it's for Danny! But it's also for me. And I can't afford it. And I don't want things from you that I can't afford. It looks like a—a payment!”

“A payment!” Jason roared.

“Everyone must know now that…that…”

“You're sleeping with me?” Jason suggested. He said it as if it were something evil. But it had meant everything to him. It had meant salvation.

“But I'm not ‘sleeping with' you—it's not some ongoing thing!”

“There was no payoff intended, Cary, and I can't believe—”

“Oh!” she ground out with exasperation. “I
am
going to have to quit—”

“Why?”

“Don't you see what you've done? My position is untenable. I just became another of your casual associations, but I have to appear here every day—”

“I wasn't sure that we were involved in any casual associations,” he said, his eyes narrowing angrily. “I intended to call you this afternoon—”

“Did you? No! No, it doesn't matter. It can't go on, don't you see? I can't work here and have everyone looking at me as if I were…as if I were one of your women,” she finished flatly.

“It was good between us,” he said harshly. “Everything was good.”

“
Was!
It's over. I will not see you again!”

He was still. Dead still. Absolutely silent and tense. Then he spoke softly. “All right. I'll marry you.”

Cary was so startled that she fell silent, gaping. Then she felt tears stinging the back of her eyes.
All right, he'd marry her?
It sounded as if he had come to a compromise on a business proposal. And he couldn't mean it. No matter how…good…it had been between them, he was striking and rich—no, no, how could she forget? He was tall, dark and handsome and rich. Damn June and Jeremy and Christmas dust and the Christmas season! He didn't mean to marry her; it was just something that had come out of his mouth to stall her.

She shook her head. “You can't mean that. It makes no sense. And if—”

“I mean it with every breath in me.” He strode toward her, pausing half an inch away. “And it makes perfect sense. You're the one who said we had a lot in common. So we're both really in love with ghosts. I understand you, you understand me. We share something.”

Cary shook her head. She didn't understand the pain she was feeling. He did mean it. He would marry her. Just to keep her near. She should have been flattered. Instead she wanted to cry. “I don't need anyone to marry me. You certainly don't have to do anything like that. I can do very well on my own—”

“Yes, yes, I know. But you can do better with me. And I can do a lot for Danny that you can't do.”

“I'm a good mother—”

“But you're not a father.”

“This is insane.”

“Angela loves you. And I do flatter myself that Danny is fond of me.”

His hands were on her shoulders, his eyes burning into hers. They were compelling, demanding that she bend to his will.

Excitement began to seize her. She could marry him. He'd offered her something that he hadn't offered any other woman. There was something missing, but what she would have would surely be better than loneliness. She was falling in love with him. And perhaps that would be enough.

“Do it,” he insisted.

“I…” She jerked free from him suddenly. “I have to go!” she said.

“I'll be home tonight. Get someone to watch Danny. Come see me. I'll want an answer.”

She left his office.

She spent the afternoon in misery. Jeremy popped his head in, and it was apparent that he and the entire office had heard about the computer. “Wow! Just imagine what you could get if you went away with him for a month!” Jeremy teased.

Cary felt like hurling her desk at him. “Get yourself and your Christmas dust out of here!” she warned him furiously.

Jeremy couldn't be gotten rid of that easily. He came in and sat on the edge of her desk. Frowning, he looked into her eyes. “Cary, I didn't mean anything.”

“Never mind!”

“Cary, I really didn't mean anything. And neither did Jason, I'm certain.”

“He's careless! He's accustomed to having everything at his whim, and he's accustomed to money—”

“Cary, he was an orphan. An abandoned boy who grew up on the streets more than off them. He worked his way up to everything he has. He isn't careless.”

Cary stared at her desk. She hadn't known anything about his past. He never talked about it. Maybe he had walked the hard and rocky road once, but that had been years ago. Perhaps his career had been admirable. Okay, so he was admirable, and that was how he had managed to slip into her heart. That was why she cared so much.

But it was also true that he thought he could snap his fingers and she would snap to attention.

Well, she wasn't going to.

 

At nine o'clock that night she was on her way to his house in Cambridge. So much for her best intentions. But as the cab carried her along, she convinced herself again that she would say no. In very certain terms.

The house was beautiful, old and furnished with antiques. She was escorted to an eighteenth-century drawing room where Jason was sipping brandy and evidently waiting for her.

She felt awkward as she walked in. And he had no polite chitchat for her. He simply stared at her, waiting.

“How's Angela?” she asked.

“Fine. Sleeping.”

She nodded. “Jason, I can't—”

She didn't see the disappointment in his eyes. His lashes shaded them too quickly. “I really can't do this. I can't do this to you—”

“Do it to me? Cary, I want you!”

“And it seems that you're willing to pay a tremendous price. Jason, I don't—”

“The price doesn't matter, Cary. It's Christmas. You're what I want more than anything in the world.”

This year, Cary thought.

“I will do my best to give you anything that you want,” he said harshly.