A Man for All Seasons (14 page)

Cold panic gripped him and he realized another truth, one that was both unnerving and exhilarating. “It doesn't matter whether she wants it or not. She's already got it.” His lips twisted. “You're right. I love her.”

Axelle's face transformed, softened. “At last you admit it,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Ty felt very calm for a man who had just told the woman he was with that he was in love with another. Axelle was looking at him with an amused tenderness. Yeah, this was really funny. The woman he loved was mad at him and he'd finally clicked with the woman he'd rejected. “How long have you—”

“—have I known you loved her?” Axelle laughed lightly. “Since the night you told me how her fiancé left her. I said to myself, ‘He loves her and he doesn't know. This could be very amusing, especially if she feels the same way.' And I wanted to see that moment of realization between the two of you. I wanted to see the love catch hold and grow.”

Ty was totally baffled. It must be a French thing. “Why?”

“To remember.” Axelle looked away. “To remind myself that such a thing as true love exists.”

And she'd known it once, Ty sensed with the clarity of one newly in love. He touched her shoulder. “Someone hurt you?”

Shaking her head, Axelle opened the door, and he thought she'd leave without answering. “I'm a widow,” she whispered before slamming the door and hurrying into the building.

A widow. Ty sat in the car for a long time. Long enough to see her standing, head bowed, waiting for the elevator. Long enough to see her step inside. So much about Axelle's reserve made sense now. Life had “stomped her heart into little, bitty pieces.”

If Marlie stomped his heart to bits and threw it back at him, he'd glue it together and give it to her again. Ty lowered his head to the steering wheel. That sentiment, if nothing else, told him he loved her. If it hadn't been for Axelle and Paul, he might not have figured it out until it was too late.

It might already be too late. Even so, he owed Axelle a debt that could never be repaid. Paul? Not so much. He didn't owe Paul anything.

Ty started the car and pulled away from the curb. He wanted to race home to Marlie, except Marlie wasn't there. She was spending the night with the virile Jeff, who was using Cub Scouts to make himself look oh-so-attractive. Women loved men who worked with kids. Women also loved men who cooked for them, and made them laugh, and knew their way around a wine list.

And men whose sizzling kisses took their breath away.

But not the incredibly stupid ones who told them the kisses meant nothing and left them half-naked on the kitchen floor. No. Women didn't like that.

Ty came to a stop and gazed unseeingly across the intersection at cars driving in and out of a lot strung with lights. Overhead, a sign blinked: 24-hour Xmas trees!

He had to get Marlie back. Except, he'd never really had her to begin with, and now he was not only competing against the dozen men he'd surrounded her with, but he'd already rejected
her in a big way. Marlie had his heart, but didn't know it. Even if she did, there was no guarantee she'd want it.

Ty had a lot to overcome, but he had a couple of advantages: he lived with her and they had incredible chemistry. If she'd forgotten, as she claimed—because he'd stupidly told her to—then he would remind her. As often as necessary.

But that wouldn't be enough because she wouldn't trust his motives, not after he'd repeatedly insisted they wanted totally different lives. To be honest, he wasn't ready to buy into the whole domestic bliss in suburbia package—just the part that included Marlie. The bliss part. For now. A grin stole across his face as he imagined a couple of little Marlies running around, bushy ponytails bobbing.

Then he groaned and closed his eyes. He
did
want the whole package. When did that happen?
How
did that happen? He was sickeningly in love, that's how it happened. But how was he going to convince Marlie when he could barely believe it himself?

Behind him, a car horn beeped, alerting him that the light had turned green. Driving through the intersection, Ty had to wait next to the blinking sign as cars with Christmas trees tied on top gingerly turned onto the street.

And a thought blinked into his head. With Marlie, it wasn't the going out, it was the staying in. That was the key. Woo her on the domestic front and the bliss would follow. Make love to her house before making love to her. Show her he wanted the same life she did. He'd have to embrace his inner homemaker as he laid the domestic groundwork, but the payoff would be bliss.

Such a strategy would require patience, commitment, and, Ty clicked on his turn signal, a Christmas tree.

L
ATE
S
ATURDAY AFTERNOON,
Marlie said goodbye to Jeff, a nice, handsome, responsible, kid-loving man who wanted a family of his own—but for whom Marlie felt no enthusiasm about the activity necessary to produce said family—opened her front door, and walked into a wall of pine needles. She couldn't get inside her townhouse and close her front door at the same time. In fact, now that she'd opened the front door, the branches had sprung out and she couldn't close it at all.

“Ty?” she called to the man for whom she felt wild enthusiasm at the thought of the act that would produce a family. Too bad she couldn't produce children with him and raise them with Jeff. Nice as Jeff was, she didn't think he'd go for the idea. And as irritating as Ty was, he wouldn't either.

“Hey, you're back!” she heard him say. He sounded very cheery for someone who should be skulking around with his tail between his legs. “I can use the help.”

Understatement. “What did you do, bring home a souvenir from your little jaunt in the woods?”

“Are you still mad about that?”

“Yes!” Actually, she was over it, but he didn't need to know. Jeff had thought Ty sneaking around the woods to check up
on her was funny, and he was truly impressed that Ty had managed to get Axelle out there with him.

“Do you think you could stop being mad long enough to push from your end so we can get the tree upstairs?” he asked.

Marlie couldn't even see upstairs. The tree filled the entire staircase. “It's too big!”

“No, the stairway is too small.” The branches quivered as Ty grabbed the other end. “Let me make sure I've got the stand on real tight.”

“I thought I was supposed to buy the Christmas tree.”

“You've been too busy. By the time you'd have gotten around to it, all the good ones would have been taken.”

Marlie smiled and shook her head. “You think buying a Christmas tree will make me stop being angry that you embarrassed me?”

“Yes, because you're going to be angry about what the branches are doing to your walls.”

Marlie stepped sideways and brushed the tips away from the wall revealing dirty scratches. “Ty!”

“I'll repaint. Okay, ready?”

Marlie stuck her hand into the branches at the top of the tree. As she felt around for a good grip, needles dropped to the foyer tile. She could only imagine what the carpet on the stairs was going to look like when this was finished. “You'll have to vacuum, too.”

“I know. Push.”

Marlie pushed, wincing as the branches scraped and left brown and green marks on the off-white paint. She, herself, ended up more scratched than she'd been after a day tromping through the woods.

At last, she and Ty wrestled the tree into the spot he'd prepared in front of the bay window. Prepared, as in shoving
everything out of the way. He had a ladder waiting, and using a rope and Marlie's help, he maneuvered the tree upright.

It jounced into place, teetered, and settled, branches rippling, needles dropping, a monster tree that blocked most of the light from the window and extended so far into the room that Ty had had to move the furniture.

“How tall is it?” she asked.

“Seventeen feet. Isn't it a beauty?” He fisted his hands at his waist, feet apart, and admired his tree as though he'd cut it down himself.

“It's really something.”

“It wouldn't fit on my car, so I paid a couple of the high-school kids who worked at the lot to bring the tree by in their truck,” he told her. “They would have helped me get it up here, but I needed to buy a bigger stand. This baby is going to suck up some serious water.”

Why wasn't she angry with him? Why was she feeling, oh,
charmed
that he'd bought a giant tree for just the two of them? “You're crazy.”

A corner of his mouth went up. “A little.”

“A lot. How are we going to get it out of here after the holidays? The branches will be dry and stiff and they'll leave gouges that'll take more than paint to fix.”

“I'll chop it into pieces first.”

“You're planning on bringing a chainsaw into the living room?”

“Can I?” He grinned and Marlie steeled herself against it. And him.

“No.”

They stared at the tree in silence. Marlie was trying not to think that this was the first and only Christmas they'd have together and she was also trying not to think how irritatingly good Ty looked in an ancient paint-spattered sweatshirt with
the sleeves ripped off. She wished she could stay angry with him. It would be easier.

“Axelle broke up with me,” Ty said.

Like that was a surprise. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not. She wasn't my type.”

“She was exactly your type.”

“My type has changed,” he said. “Now my type has to like camping.”

Marlie sucked air through her teeth. “I don't know. Perfectly groomed women in designer clothes and shoes aren't the ‘get-close-to-nature' types. They're working hard to get
away
from nature. And the campers don't want to bother with hair and makeup and nails. They'd rather have a good pair of hiking boots than a strappy sandal that shows off their pedicure.”

He met her eyes. “Then I guess I'm looking for a babe in the woods.”

“Ha. Good luck with that.” She remembered him telling her she was a babe. He had to remember it, too. But that was when her hair wasn't bunched up in a pony tail and she was wearing makeup and a sexy dress and hadn't just spent a day and night camping with a bunch of Cub Scouts.

He gazed steadily at her. “What are you looking for?”

He already knew. Did he think she'd changed? Did he hope she'd changed? “My usual. Someone who wants to be with me for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, from two a.m. feedings to graduation. Someone who'll be there for me rain or shine.” And she could not be clearer than that.

Her heart wished Ty'd be that man, but her heart was on probation after Eric.

“You left out something,” he said.

“I thought that pretty much covered it.”

“Passion.”

He was right. Had she left out passion because she instinctively knew she wouldn't find it with anyone but Ty? Her heart started pounding so hard she felt the blood pulsing in her ears.
Stop it.
Ty had told her to forget passion with him and she couldn't, so she was trying to find passion with someone else. So far, she couldn't do that, either. It wasn't fair!

“Marlie,” he said, his voice deep and his eyes hot.

That wasn't fair, either. When he looked at her like that and said her name all raggedy, she wanted to kiss him, in spite of knowing his kisses would make her change her type from year-round to seasonal.

She backed away. “I need to shower and change. Mr. Six Geese a Laying is taking me to a comedy club for a performance of ‘Goosed'.”

“Tonight?” Ty looked disappointed. And hot. Always hot.

Marlie kept backing out of the room. “It is Saturday night.”

“Oh. Right.” He turned to the window. “I'd kinda thought we'd decorate the tree together.”

“I don't have any ornaments.”

“You don't?” He sounded surprised.

“I just had a couple of strings of lights and some cheapie balls. I tossed them before we moved.”

“So this is your first Christmas tree here?” he asked.

She nodded and headed for the stairs to her bedroom.

“Then we'll have to go all out,” he said with ominous cheer.

“Ty, there's a seventeen-foot tree in my living room. We've already gone all out.”

“Oh—Marlie?” he called as she reached the bottom steps. “I set up your bed and…other stuff.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I hope it's okay.”

“The bed!” She let her head fall back. “I'd forgotten all
about it.” And now she was going to have to make the thing and maybe move it around and she was
so tired.
“Thanks.”

Her backpack and sleeping bag were still downstairs, but Marlie wanted to check out the new bed. The hallway outside her room smelled different, like packing material and fabric dye and…fresh paint? She pressed the light switch and gasped softly.

The bed was in exactly the right spot, allowing her to see out the window when she woke up. Ty had already made it up with the new bedding she'd bought—the sand colored sheets and duvet and decorative pillows in bleached blues and greens. And then he'd painted the walls in the palest sea-glass-green.

Marlie felt instantly soothed, wrapped in serenity. Lighter than she'd ever, ever felt when she walked into her bedroom. She could breathe in here again.

The backs of her eyes burned when she thought of all the months the other bed had battered her spirit. Ty had understood that, and more. He'd known exactly what she needed and when she'd shopped for linens, she'd been drawn to the colors and fabric he'd described.

Marlie sat on the bed and held the outrageously expensive pillow she'd used for inspiration. It was decorated with a sea glass mosaic, and she'd bought the bedding to match, never intending to buy the pillow, too—paying over two hundred dollars for a pillow was stupid. But it made her happy to look at it, so she bought it, anyway, because sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants.

She touched one of the smooth pieces of pale, cloudy green-blue glass on the pillow. Ty had guessed that it was her favorite and then painted her walls with the color.

As an apology, it was pretty spectacular.

Marlie started leaking tears from her eyes. Not actively crying, but not fighting it, either.

Eric had never done anything like this for her. He wouldn't have known how. Nobody had ever done anything like this for her. Nobody but Ty.

Marlie set the pillow back before tears dropped on it. Wiping her cheeks, she walked out into the hallway to the top of the stairs.

Ty stood at the bottom.

Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. But sometimes the heart can't have what it wants.

They looked at each other for long moments before Marlie said, “Okay, you're forgiven. For all of it. You've got a clean slate. Don't blow it.”

 

Y
ES
! H
E WAS IN
. B
ARELY
. He'd nearly lost his mind when he'd mentioned she'd forgotten about passion, and then watched her face as she remembered it. Her lips had parted and her face had flushed and her eyes had gone dreamy and he'd been seconds away from kissing her.

Ty shook his head to clear away the image. He had a strategy in place and he was determined to stick to it. Lay groundwork and have patience.

Therefore, he was on his best behavior when the goose guy arrived to pick up Marlie. And when she got home, he didn't have to pretend to be engrossed in the TV because he was still painting the stairway walls. Before breaking out the leftover builder's paint he'd found in the garage, it had taken him forever to suck up all the pine needles. Or most of them. He suspected he'd burned up the vacuum cleaner motor. It sure smelled like it.

So when the front door opened, he had a legitimate reason for being a few feet away, for lifting a hand to the goose guy, who smiled, and told Marlie good-night—without kissing her.

She shut the door.

“Have a good time?” he asked, oh-so-very casually.

“Yeah.” She stood and watched him. “It was kind of a wacky ‘Christmas Carol' type show.”

“Sounds like fun.” Did she notice how he wasn't asking about the goose guy? Did she?

“Matt's getting married,” Marlie said, as though he'd asked. “He got engaged after he told Axelle he'd participate in the auction.”

Matt was the goose guy, which meant six down, six to go. “It was nice of him not to back out. Good man.” He could be generous when nothing was at stake.

Ty scanned the wall for areas that needed another coat of paint. “Did I miss any places?”

“Behind you,” Marlie said.

Ty turned around and dabbed at a spot where the green was still visible. “The sap or something is bleeding through the paint.”

“It'll be okay. Who knows? I like my bedroom so much I might want to repaint the whole place in something besides builder's white.”

He smiled down at her. “I like color.”

She smiled up at him. “So do I.”

Her face was open and friendly and pretty and they were standing close enough together that Ty was getting a little dizzy with the effort it took not to bend down a few inches and kiss her.

Now was not the time. Now was the time for him to romance all things domestic. But sticking to his strategy was going to be impossible if she kept looking at him as though she was thinking about that one, incredible, hot, life-changing session in the kitchen.

Fortunately, paint dripped from the brush onto his hand before he could add an incredible, hot, life-changing kiss on the stairs to their memories. Later. They'd make memories
later. Lots of memories so she'd never again list everything she wanted in life and leave out passion.

Ty grabbed for a rag as Marlie stepped by him.

“You'll be pleased to know I have a golden egg for my charm, so the ring won't be the only gold on the bracelet.”

He nodded and concentrated on wiping the paint off his hand and the brush handle and not looking at her. “Leave it on the kitchen counter with the bird charm, and I'll attach them when I finish up here.”

“Okay. Thanks, Ty. And for my room, too. I can hardly wait to sleep in it.”

Me, too,
he thought. Then he broke down and watched her run up the stairs and second-guessed himself. If the chemistry had been that great before he knew he loved her, how great would it be between them now?

Stick to the plan.
Patience and groundwork. Not only did he have to demonstrate domestic commitment, he had to look as though he enjoyed it. Which, oddly, he did. Go figure.