Unwrapped (26 page)

Allie grinned. Sam spoke his mind. A person would know where they stood with the guard. She liked that, a lot.

“We’re the Murphys,” the older man said, edging forward. “I’m Warren and this is my wife Marian. We both use canes. We were on the fourth floor in crystal and fine china when the elevators stopped. We took the stairs, but it was slow going. It’s Marian’s eightieth birthday.” He turned to his wife and smiled. “I’d promised her a Waterford vase followed by afternoon tea.”

Warren turned to Aidan. “I’m a retired postal worker. I’ve delivered mail in rain, sleet, and heavy snow, but I’ve never seen a storm this bad. I looked out the window on the upper floor and couldn’t make out the building next door. The power company will be pulling its crew off the street so I don’t think there will be any emergency responders. Are we safe?”

“Very much so,” Aidan assured him. “Should the generators fail, we have departments with candles and camping equipment. We’ve battery-operated blankets to keep you warm. There’s plenty of food, from tea room sandwiches to Swiss chocolates. We even have display beds with fresh linen should we be forced to spend the night. Sam and I will see to your every comfort.”

Aidan glanced over at Allie. Her skin prickled. She had memories of just how comforting Aidan could be.

Marian Murphy touched Aidan’s arm, a woman with a cloud of white hair and wire-rim glasses. She’d have made a perfect Mrs. Claus. “Thank you, son.”

Allie couldn’t help admiring Aidan. He was in charge, and as accommodating as he was kind. He’d put the Murphys at ease. The older couple huddled together and held hands.

They looked content, their hearts entwined. Allie envied them. She’d never known that special feeling with a man. She always took off before things got too serious. It was safer that way. Or so she’d always imagined.

The group glanced her way. “I’m Allie,” she said by way of an introduction. When everyone looked at her foot, she added, “Sprained ankle.”

Aidan met her gaze and she felt her cheeks heat. Those around them blurred, and it seemed as if they were the only two people in the vast department store. His expression was open, honest, and searching. He was too damn handsome for his own good. He made her mouth go dry. She wasn’t one for stomach flutters, but he quickened her pulse and buckled her knees. She pulled herself up straight.

She owed him an explanation as to why she’d left Aspen. If she could roll back time, she would have stayed. She’d have fought her fear of commitment. Even though the idea scared the hell out of her.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty. It was too late now. There were few do-overs in life.

Overhead the generators quaked. The machinery must be ancient indeed. The wind howled, and severe gusts rattled the doors and display windows. It was unnerving.

“No telling how bad this storm is going to get,” Aidan said. “I suggest we locate lanterns and flashlights in case we lose electricity.”

“We need to set up a command post,” came from Sam.

“This isn’t the military,” the golfer said, grumbling.

“Fend for yourself then,” said Sam.

Chris’s jaw shifted, and Aidan interceded. “Let’s all move to the third floor, to camping and furniture. We can sit and be comfortable there.”

Sam led the way to the stairs, and Pamela and Chris scooted in behind him. The Murphys assured Aidan they could make the climb. Allie shouldered on her jacket then worked on her right winter boot. She had difficulty fitting her left one.

She struggled for several seconds until Aidan hunkered down beside her. He ran his hands over the woolen sock. She winced, her ankle tender to his touch. “Your boot won’t fit. Your foot’s too swollen.”

She held out her hand. “I’ll carry it then.”

He rose, passed her the sheepskin UGG. Their fingers brushed. His skin was warm and she wanted to hold his hand. She held back, barely. Instead, she carefully slipped the Snow Angels into separate jacket pockets. She then hefted her backpack and followed the snowbound group to the emergency stairs. Aidan brought up the rear with his flashlight.

The going was slow. She toe-tapped around the jewelry counter. Her ankle hurt like a son of a bitch. She locked her jaw and fought the pain. She was determined not to break down before Aidan.

The stairs were especially daunting. The Murphys rounded the curve in the stairwell long before Allie attempted the climb.

She counted the stairs, a total of thirty before the landing, a place where she could rest. She decided hopping was her best bet.

She bit the inside of her cheek and made fifteen steps before she was out of breath. She was halfway there.

She mentally psyched herself to continue. She was a skier in great shape. She could do this . . .

“You’re hurting,” she heard Aidan say over her shoulder.

“Just a little.” She grimaced, keeping her face turned away from him.

“Don’t be stubborn, Allie. You don’t have to go it alone.”

“I’m fine, really,” she insisted. Why did she have to keep proving she was so tough? So she wouldn’t get hurt?

“Sorry, lady, we at Dutton’s aim to please,” Aidan said with a seriousness that surprised her. He handed her the flashlight. “We take care of our customers.”

He swept her up before she could respond, one muscled arm beneath her legs, the other across her back. He held her tightly.

Her whole body went limp. She welcomed his rescue. She wrapped her arms about his neck, breathed in his scent, and absorbed his strength. He was all male.

They ascended slowly, and found the Murphys on the second floor landing. A red emergency light had dimmed to a faint pink. Darkness crowded the corners near the door. It was cold and eerie.

“Only one more flight,” Warren said, short of breath.

“Are the two of you okay?” Aidan asked, concerned. Allie noticed he wasn’t even breathing hard.

“Sure,” Warren said with a wink, as if remembering earlier days when he carried his wife in his arms. “We’re catching our second wind.”

“Let me get Allie to the third floor and I’ll come back and help you,” Aidan offered.

“We’ll be fine,” Marian reassured him. “Warren was a fine athlete in his day. He ran track.”

Warren tapped his cane on the marble floor. “That was sixty years ago, my dear. Back then I was six feet tall and muscled. Age has a way of bending a man. Nowadays I’m lucky to make it from the kitchen to the front door for the newspaper.”

“You’re still the strongest man I know,” his wife praised.

Allie Smith caught the older couple’s smile; a smile as loving as an actual embrace. It was a sweet moment, but a difficult one for her to comprehend. The Murphys’ love stretched decades, whereas her own mother’s relationships were short-lived and unsatisfying. Margo had taught her daughters that men left without notice and women should always leave first. That way the heartbreak hurt less.

Allie had never trusted a man.

Aidan, however, gave her reason to try.

She knew deep in her soul that the blizzard would decide her future with this man.

Beside them now, Warren straightened his shoulders as his wife took his arm. They tackled the steps together. “See you on the third floor,” Warren called over his shoulder.

Aidan Dutton watched the older couple move out ahead of them. He clutched Allie closer. He’d noted her struggle on the stairs and that she was in pain. Her swollen ankle gave him an excuse to touch her again. He’d been relieved she hadn’t fought him. Her cheek now pressed his shoulder and he heard her sigh.

He felt suddenly anchored. He didn’t move, just held her close. Years ago, he’d carried Allie from the outdoor cedar tub to his bedroom at the Aspen lodge. They’d both been naked and ready for sex. They’d been incredibly hot for each other. So hot, they steamed the sheets.

He could still picture her, lushly nude, her skin moist, lying on his bed. His body stirred with the memory. He set his back teeth. Arousal was not his friend. Yet he grew hard. He feared he wouldn’t be able to take the stairs. He’d be stuck on the second floor landing for Christmas Eve, craving this woman and stiff as a crowbar.

He drew Allie higher against his chest. He didn’t want her to witness her effect on him. He exhaled slowly. “How’d you hurt your ankle?” he finally asked.

She scrunched her nose. “A college guy’s harmless flirting turned into a snowmobile disaster.”

Aidan would’ve liked to wring the neck of the careless son of a bitch who’d done this to her. He knew men were taken with Allie. He’d witnessed her countless pursuers in Aspen. She looked like an angel, but had an independent streak that would frustrate the Almighty.

The fact that he was the one holding her now was all that mattered. He would have liked to kiss her pain away, but they had unfinished business. Until they cleared the air he needed to concentrate on their present situation. They were in the middle of a blizzard. He had six people under his care.

He cautiously continued up the stairs. His arousal was almost as painful as Allie’s ankle. She was a lightweight, even in her winter wear. She shot the beam up the stairwell, lighting their way.

Up ahead, Warren and Marian patiently waited for Aidan on the third floor landing. Warren held the door wide for them.

Aidan immediately located Sam’s command post. The guard had accomplished a great deal in a very short time. He’d rearranged the leather furniture. A cluster of chairs and a short couch now surrounded an antique rococo coffee table. Battery-operated camping lanterns supplied sufficient light.

The Taser remained visible on the guard’s utility belt. Sam was all huff and puff and built on bravado. Aidan knew the weapon gave him confidence. He wouldn’t blow the man’s cover.

Allie shifted in his arms, her gaze riveted to the amazing view from the tall multi-paned window reminiscent of another time. The fury of the storm fascinated her. Flurries of snow and a wailing wind beat against the glass. Frost so thick it resembled white velvet curtains framed the window. She’d never seen anything like it. The wintry blast held them hostage.

Aidan maneuvered between a black walnut billiard table and a filigree lattice bird cage to reach the group. Two chairs remained. “Pick one,” he said to Allie.

She chose the club chair in Peruvian basket brown. His arms felt oddly empty once he’d set her down. He looked around for an ottoman. She needed to elevate her foot.

He soon found the perfect piece. Allie’s gaze went wide when he set the vintage steamer trunk before her. The top was cushioned with preserved navy fabric from a 1920s seaman’s peacoat. The epaulets and gold buttons bordered each end.

“My sock is dirty from the stairs,” she was quick to say. “I can’t put my foot on something so beautiful.”

“It’s just an ottoman.”

She pointed to the designer label and blinked at the price tag. “It’s one-of-a-kind and very expensive.”

He knelt beside her and lifted her leg so her foot rested comfortably on the peacoat. “Your foot’s more important than a trunk.”

“What will your boss say?” she worried. “I wouldn’t want you to lose your job because of a dirty sock.”

He grinned. Her concern set off pleasant warmth in his chest. “We won’t tell him,” he said, making her roll her eyes. Beautiful eyes, big and filled with a sparkle that reminded him of a Christmas tree ornament brushed a soft blue.

Her gaze went soft and his sex stayed hard. It took him a full minute to pull his body together and stand. He shifted his stance. Twice.

“Now that we’re settled, I’m hungry,” Chris said from the couch. “I missed lunch to do my last-minute Christmas shopping.”

“There should still be a few refrigerated sandwiches at Tealuxe,” Aidan said.

“What kind of sandwiches?” asked Chris.

“Finger sandwiches,” Sam said. “It’s a tea room, golf ball.”

“I do love fancy sandwiches,” said Marian Murphy. “I’d also enjoy a nice cup of peppermint tea.”

“We can do tea,” Aidan assured the older woman. “We can boil water on a portable Coleman stove. There’s an InstaStart among the camping equipment.”

“China cups?” Marian looked hopeful. “We could have a formal tea party.”

Sam grunted. “Tea by lantern light in the middle of a blizzard, why not?”

“There should be a few holiday desserts left over as well,” Aidan told the group. He looked at Allie’s foot. “I’ll bring back a bag of ice to take down the swelling.”

Sam went to retrieve the small stove and a pot which he set on a Tuscan end table. He looked directly at Chris. “Propane’s hooked up. Don’t turn it on until we return if you want to keep your eyebrows.”

Chris shot him a dirty look, but said nothing.

Aidan handed Sam a lantern. Both men then took the stairs to the seventh floor. They’d reached the sixth floor landing when Sam cleared his throat and said, “Allie’s your snow angel.”

Aidan went very still. He should have known he couldn’t keep anything from Sam. He was a wise-ass sometimes, but with an acute sixth sense. The security guard had worked at Dutton’s for twenty-five years. He was loyal and observant. He was also protective of Aidan.

“Why would you say that?” he asked.

“Body language, boss,” Sam said. “The way you carried her upstairs, the way you look at her. Hell, you set her dirty sock on a five thousand dollar steamer trunk. You like her.” Nothing got past Sam.

Aidan crossed his arms over his chest and clutched the lantern tightly. “I met Allie in Aspen three years ago,” he admitted. “Our time together was short.” Too damn short.

Sam narrowed his gaze. “I remember your ski vacation. You dragged your ass for months afterward. You haven’t dated anyone seriously since.”

“The store’s kept me busy.”

“Not that busy,” Sam disagreed. “You took off for Grasse, France, the next spring and spent six months at the House of Molinard during the production of Snow Angel, capturing a woman’s scent. Allie’s scent.”

Aidan’s secret was out. “Keep it man-to-man?” He wasn’t comfortable admitting even to Sam that he’d had Allie on the brain for three long years. She was more than a secret crush. She was his future. Convincing Allie she belonged with him would take some fast talking and a single kiss. In that one kiss he’d know if she still cared for him.