The Cinderella Deal (21 page)

“What am I going to do about Julia?” Evan asked.

Linc looked around the room until he found Daisy. She was talking to Julia. Good. That meant she wasn’t with the wife-stealing vet. He smiled at her and she smiled back, and he felt heat all through him. Evan was saying something.

“What?”

“Julia.” Evan looked at Daisy’s painting gloomily. “What do I do?”

“Ask her to come home with you. Offer to show her your etchings.”

“I don’t have any etchings.”

Linc nodded. “Good. Julia probably hates etchings.”

“Then why would she come?”

Linc couldn’t help it; he started to laugh. “Because she wants you.”

“Really?” Evan’s face almost brightened. “How do you know?”

Linc thought about telling him how he knew when Julia was in the mood to go home with someone but decided not to. “Daisy told me. Daisy knows everything.”

“This is true.” Evan’s eggnog was making him philosophical. “Sometimes I think that Julia and I could never be happy, and then I think of you and Daisy. If Daisy can make you warm, Julia can make me happy.”

“I don’t think anybody can make anybody else anything.” Linc tried to be careful so he didn’t get lost in his any’s. “Daisy didn’t make me warm.”

Evan looked at him owlishly.

“What are you talking about?” Linc asked, irritated, and then Julia was beside them.

“I should probably start back to the inn.” She looked at Evan and batted her eyes.

Here’s your chance, old buddy
, Linc thought, and nudged Evan.

Evan looked startled. “Oh?”

Linc closed his eyes and sighed. He liked Evan a lot, but sometimes—

“Is it dangerous to walk back to the inn alone?” Julia asked, still looking at Evan.

“Well—” Evan stopped, helpless.

Linc looked around for Daisy. This was obviously her kind of problem, getting two people together. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find her. That bothered him. She was supposed to be there with him. He was going to have to find her and explain that to her, but first he had to take care of Julia and Evan.

“Yes, it’s dangerous to walk back alone.” Linc stopped to think. Just getting Evan to walk Julia home wasn’t going to do it; he was going to have to actually get her into his apartment for the night. “But it’s more dangerous at the inn,” he said carefully. “You really shouldn’t be staying there, Julia. The doors don’t lock.”

Julia looked at him with hopeless contempt. Well, he deserved it, that last bit had been feeble. He had to do better, but the eggnog was fogging his brain. What would Daisy say?

“They have rats,” he said suddenly. “Big suckers. They’ve been known to carry off small children. You’re small, Julia. An especially big rat might grab you. And there you’d be.” He stopped. Where would she be? “Rat snacks.”

“Rat snacks?” Julia looked incredulous.

Linc shook his head. “It would be terrible, just terrible.” He drank some more eggnog.

They were looking at him as if he were insane. He’d seen the look before when Daisy had gone into one of her narrative fits in front of strangers. “So,” he said, winding his story up in a hurry. “You really shouldn’t be staying there. We’d let you stay here, but we don’t have any room. So maybe you should stay somewhere else.” He looked at Evan, who was looking like a bemused codfish. Julia, on the other hand, had the look of a woman on whom light had dawned.

Linc kicked Evan smartly on the ankle. “Have you got any room at your place, Evan?”

“Ouch,” Evan said, and Julia said, “Would that be too much to ask, Evan, if I stayed with you?”

“What? Oh. No.” Evan took a deep breath. “Absolutely not. My pleasure.”

Linc sighed in relief and looked around to see if Daisy had come back. She hadn’t.

“You know, being married to Daisy has taught you a lot,” Julia said when Evan had gone for their coats. “She couldn’t have done any better herself.”

“Where is she?” Linc looked around the room again. She was definitely gone. Julia said something, but he didn’t hear.

There was mistletoe in the hall.
That damn vet,
Linc thought, and then stopped, confused. He should be delighted; Daisy finding someone else would get him off the hook permanently with Crawford. Not even Crawford could insist he hold on to a wife who was in love with someone else.

Just not the vet. He wasn’t right for her. She needed someone who could give her a little structure, take care of her. Give her time and room to paint and—

Who are you kidding?
he asked himself. The vet was perfect for her. He’d give her all the animals she wanted and would never yell at her because the furniture had holes or because she dressed funny. He should go do the right thing, tell them it was all right, that he’d give her a divorce, that they could be together. He thought of the vet basking in Daisy’s glow and it hurt more than he could ever have imagined. But Daisy deserved the best. He put down his drink and went into the hall.

Art was kissing Daisy under the mistletoe.

The pain of losing her was suddenly much sharper, a twisting stab that was almost unbearable. He turned and went back into the living room and found his drink and drained it at one gulp. Then he went to get a refill.

Daisy looked up at Art and smiled ruefully. “I was really hoping you were the one.” He should have been she knew; he was warm and funny and loved animals and didn’t care about holes in the furniture or funny-looking clothes. But there had been nothing for her in his kiss. It had been a perfectly good kiss, but she felt more watching Linc smile at her across a room than she did when this lovely, sweet man kissed her. “I’m sorry.” She took his hand. “I really thought I—”

Art shook his head. “But you don’t.”

“No,” she said sadly. “And you’re just the kind of man I should be perfectly happy with. I can’t understand it.”

“I can.” He sighed. “You’re in love with that gangster you married. God knows why.”

Daisy tensed. “No. That’s not it. I don’t know what it is. But I feel awful for leading you on.”

“You didn’t.” Art relaxed against the doorframe. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“You don’t love me,” Daisy said, making a new discovery. “That’s good.”

“No, but I could have. You’re just the kind of woman I could be happy with.” He looked down at her with affectionate bewilderment. “Am I still your vet?”

“Well, of course.”

“Good. I’d miss having you around. But I am going to go now and think about rearranging my plans for the future. This sort of changes things for me.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Daisy Blaise.”

Daisy saw him to the door and watched him walk off into the snowy night. Art was the perfect man for her story and he was all wrong. The wrong man was back in the living room, and she knew he’d be perfect. Nothing made sense, so she went back to the archway into the living room to regroup. Julia and Evan had gone, she saw. Linc was saying good-bye to the Bookers, walking with them to the hallway, where she stood, and the Crawfords were following them. She looked at the clock. Midnight. The Cinderella hour. She sighed.

“Bye-bye, Daisy.” Chickie held out her arms and Daisy went to give her a hug. “There,” Chickie said with satisfaction, pushing her next to Linc. “You’re under the mistletoe. Kiss her, Linc.”

Daisy turned and found him looking down at her with such misery in his eyes that she was shaken. “What is it, love?” she whispered. She put her arms around him and pulled him to her for comfort and warmth, to drive away the misery inside him, and he held her so close she couldn’t breathe.
This isn’t close enough,
she thought.
I want you inside me.

“Kiss her,” Chickie insisted.

Daisy lifted her face and Linc bent to her, his body pressing hers, his hands warm on her back, and she felt her breath go, felt herself shake as his lips brushed softly against hers, and then she moved into his kiss and felt such heat and love shudder through her that she clutched at him, forgetting the Crawfords, forgetting everything but him, because he was so big and close and hot and because he was Linc, and Linc was all she had ever really wanted anyway.

When he broke the kiss, she put her head on his chest and hung on to him, so glad to have him finally in her arms that she almost wept with relief. She heard Chickie say something inane in the background, and then she felt Linc move his arm to catch the open door and shut it behind them, and then they were alone.

He put his hand under her chin and pulled her head up, and said, “Do you want a divorce?” His face was harsh and bleak. “Do you want Art Francis?”

“No.”
Daisy shook her head and clung to him, clenching her teeth because she wanted him so much. “I thought I did, but I was wrong. I told him so tonight. I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long. Will you
please
make love to me tonight? I can’t stand living with you and not making love with you.”

Something broke in his face, and he pulled her to him and kissed her so hard, she moaned a little against his mouth. Then his tongue invaded her, and she let go completely, letting her nails rake down his arms as she arched her body into his. He kissed her over and over again, not the polished kisses she’d expected from him, but rough, awkward, fumbling, hard kisses that left her mindless with love and lust. Her knees went weak and she tugged him down with her to sprawl on top of her on the hall carpet. His hands were hard on her waist, and she pulled one up to her breast and pressed it there while he pulled her hips close to his with the other, grinding his hardness into her until she wanted to scream. “I want you
now,”
she told him,
“now,”
and then she felt him yank on the zipper to her dress while she fumbled with his shirt buttons. His shirt finally came open, and she bit his chest, running her palms up his body while he groaned into her hair and yanked again at her stuck zipper.

She twisted against him, needing to be naked against him. “Rip it,” she told him through her teeth. “Rip it off.” He slid his fingers into the neck of her dress, and she felt his fist against her breasts, felt his fingers slide into her cleavage, and she shuddered with bone-deep pleasure. Then he yanked hard on the old velvet and it split all the way down to her thighs, and the rush of cool air on her naked body was wonderful. Then his mouth was on her breast, and his hand stroked down her stomach and between her legs, sliding into her effortlessly because she needed him so much, and she screamed her relief as she clutched him to her and came.

Then he was kissing her again, and she bit his lip and said, “Inside me,” and tried to find the zipper to his pants with shaking hands. He rolled away from her, capturing both her hands in his. “Upstairs,” he said, and his voice was thick and hoarse. He stood and yanked her to her feet, and she let her arms fall so that her sleeves slipped off her arms, and her dress fell heavily around her hips, and she stood naked to the waist under the mistletoe.

Linc closed his eyes, and Daisy moved close against him, resting her cheek on his chest, letting her hands slide down his back so she could pull his hips to hers. He was so hard, and he felt so good against her. He pulled her dress and underwear down over her hips, his hands stroking hot down her waist until the weight of the velvet dropped everything to the floor. Then he picked her up and carried her up the stairs while she kissed and bit his neck and dug her fingernails into his arm, wanting him so much, she was mindless with it.

He tipped her back onto his bed and slid his fingers inside her again, and she struggled against his hand as the pressure rose in her.
“Inside me,”
she said again, and he stopped. She clutched at him, loving the heat and the hardness of his body, and he rolled against her, reaching over her to the bedside table. She barely had time to register that she really was in his bed with him—this time she really would have it all—before he had the condom on and had pulled her to him again.

Daisy looked up into Linc’s eyes, so dark with need for her that they were almost black. “I thought I’d never have you like this,” she told him. She eased herself under him, and he arched to let her, and when she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him to her, he closed his eyes and put his forehead on hers. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this,” he told her. “Not like this.” While she was savoring his words and his weight, he lifted his hips and moved into her, thick and hard, and Daisy lost everything in the heat as he thrust inside her, rolling so that she was on top, pulling her tighter to him. She clutched at him, licking her tongue into his mouth and he moaned her name, and his fingers dug into her back and arms while he moved like a madman inside her. He wasn’t what she’d expected, wasn’t the smooth, polished, controlled lover she’d thought he’d be, and knowing that he was going crazy in her arms because he was in
her
arms, knowing that it was Linc who was surging against her, whispering her name brokenly, telling her he loved her, knowing that it was Linc saying those mad, passionate things to her, all that made her crazy too. Her body went wild because Linc was so big and rough and hard inside her, but her mind pushed her over the edge because she knew it was Linc in her arms, inside her, and because she loved him so. He was so much, then too much, and the pressure built until it all exploded inside and she cried his name, and he rolled again and pinned her beneath him, stroking over and over as she writhed and sobbed mindlessly. Then he shuddered in her arms and dropped his head on her shoulder, whispering her name again and again.

“Stay with me,” she whispered finally when all the shocks were gone and she was soft with satisfaction. “I want to sleep with you all night. I want to wrap myself around you all night.”

“I couldn’t ever leave you,” he said into her hair. “I couldn’t ever let you go.” And she fell asleep holding on to him and to his promise.

Daisy woke the next morning in the wrong bed with the right man. Linc pressed against her back, warm and naked, his hand still curved around her breast, and she closed her eyes for a moment because he felt so good. Then she put her hand over his and pressed it against her breast, and he stirred and kissed her hair.