A Man for All Seasons (15 page)

So Ty stared at paint drying until he was absolutely certain he could walk past Marlie's bedroom without trying to join her in her brand-new, big, soft, comfortable bed.

 

T
HE NEXT DAY
, M
ARLIE WENT
to a synchronized swimming competition and ate dinner at the Black Swan Pub with Mr. Seven Swans a Swimming.

Ty patiently attached a silver swan charm to her bracelet and saw Marlie watching little girls in weird glittery makeup form flower patterns with their legs in the water on the ten o'clock news.

On Monday, Ty bought a new vacuum cleaner and Marlie milked a cow on the ten-o'clock news. After patiently attaching a cow charm to the bracelet, he shared the cheese and crackers she'd brought home with her, right there in the living room next to the naked Christmas tree.

Marlie had said nothing about the tree since informing him she had no ornaments. They were supposed to decorate the tree together, damn it. Shared domesticity. Sentimentality. Sappy Christmas music. Hot chocolate. Cookies. Groundwork. But she had to
want
to decorate the tree and so far, she'd ignored the thing, although how was a mystery.

Patience. Remember the bliss,
he told himself.

Having patience meant that on Tuesday, Ty watched clips of Marlie in the arms of another man on the ten o'clock news as she took dance lessons with the second Jason, Mr. Nine Ladies Dancing. She still wasn't home and that was because Alicia Hartson was broadcasting live as nine ladies—eight plus Marlie—belly danced.

Belly. Danced.

And he'd thought watching her with another man had been difficult. Now, he, and any other man watching, saw Marlie's hips swiveling and shaking. She was surprisingly limber. Ty stared, mesmerized, and thought of those hips under him. On top of him. Surrounding a very specific part of his anatomy. He thought of Marlie's face, soft with passion, and her hair brushing creamy shoulders and the soft skin he remembered. His fingertips tingled, eager to explore more of the skin.

He needed a faster plan.

 

W
EDNESDAY NIGHT FOUND
Marlie in the kitchen heating up a festival of saturated fat.

Ty stood at the top of the stairs and sniffed. “I smell wonderful things.”

“Yeah, a billion calories of fat, salt, bread and cheese,” she said.

“Nectar of the gods.”

“Fat gods.” Marlie bent to look in the oven window. “Randy—you remember him from the auction?” She looked over her shoulder at him.

Ty was instantly transported to the last time Marlie was in the kitchen looking at him from that position. He'd stupidly messed up by telling himself she wasn't the right woman for him when she'd always been the right woman for him. It had only taken years and years and years for him to figure it out. What if he went into the kitchen right now and they pretended the last week had never happened? Just continued from the point where she had reached for his belt and he'd stopped her. Only this time he wouldn't stop her. They could—the floor was clean now.

He was going to use
the floor is clean now
as a romantic come-on? Charming.
Stay out of the kitchen,
Ty told himself. He gripped the handles of the shopping bags he carried as he managed to nod, that, yes, he remembered Randy.

She turned back to the oven. “He's Ten Lords a Leaping. He brought over frozen potato skins, fried cheese, boneless buffalo wings, jalapeño cheese poppers and pizza rolls.”

“I like Randy.” Ty carried red and white shopping bags over to their tree, carefully positioning them so the Santa's North Pole Outlet logo was visible.

“Good, because he's downstairs in my office setting up for our date.” Marlie plopped a roll of paper towels on a tray. “Which is?”

The buzzer sounded on the oven. “We're networking our computers to play Dominion of Zartha online.”

Ty blinked.

Marlie slipped her hand into an oven mitt. “He's formed a guild called the Ten Leaping Lords and we're going on a raid to try and capture Finraz, Chancellor of Quarol. Isn't that clever of him?”

“I don't know. If I translated correctly, you just told me you're going to stay here and play online computer games?”

“Exactly.” She removed the tray from the oven.

Ty snorted. “Cheap date.”

“Shh. Give him a break. He's only twenty-three.” She held up her arm with the charm bracelet. “He already gave me the charm.”

Ty walked over to take a look. “It's a letter
‘Z'
.”

Marlie nodded. “For Zartha.”

“It's made out of a paper clip.”

“Maybe.” Marlie picked up the tray and nodded toward a two-liter bottle of soda.

Shaking his head, Ty picked it up, along with two glasses filled with ice, and followed her downstairs.

Ty made two more trips out to his car and heard laughter each time he passed by her office. He looked in and saw them wearing head phones and typing madly away.

And what was he doing? Wrapping lights on the tree. Colored lights because they both liked color. Thousands of colored lights. Many, many strings of lights requiring extension cords and outlet strips.

And patience.

There was no bliss.

Later, when he was finished and Marlie and Randy were still slaying dragons or whatever they were doing, Ty turned out all the room lights, leaving the Christmas tree lit.

There was something magical about a lighted Christmas tree in a dark room. He only hoped the magic would work on Marlie.

 

F
AR, FAR TOO MANY HOURS
later, Marlie said goodbye to Randy and his computer and carried the tray with their dirty dishes upstairs. On her way up, she saw the rainbow glow coming from the living room and knew what it meant, but she wasn't prepared for the breathtaking spectacle of a fully-lit, seventeen-foot Christmas tree.

She looked around the room, but didn't see Ty. Setting her
tray on the kitchen bar, Marlie sat on the couch and hugged her knees to her chest.

It must have taken him hours to wrap the tree in lights. Just for the two of them. Just because he wanted to celebrate Christmas with her. That had to mean something. But what?

Briefly, she allowed herself to remember the hot look in his eyes, the one that could melt her resolve to stop wanting him That Way.

What are you looking for?
he'd asked her.

Like a dummy, she'd mentioned everything but passion. She could tell he wanted to give her a little friendly reminder to add it to her list because clearly it had been so long since she'd had any, she'd forgotten how important it was.

She hadn't forgotten. But she'd been burned the last time she'd followed her heart, so this time, she was following her mind. Commitment, or the possibility first, passion second, no matter how much her heart pouted.

The only reason she was looking good to Ty right now was because he was between girlfriends. As soon as a sleek, designer-clad, Pilates-toned woman caught his eye, he'd be gone. He'd be moving out soon, anyway. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.

From nowhere, the thought of living here without Ty walloped her, and she burst into tears, shocking herself. Her mind was telling her that she'd known this was coming, but her heart was throwing a fit. Marlie clapped both hands over her mouth in an effort to stifle her sobs, amazed at their depth. She hadn't cried this hard over Eric. Over anything. Ever.

The colored lights of the tree smeared together. It was late and she was tired and where did she have to go? Into the bedroom Ty had painted for her.

She loved that bedroom and now she was going to have
to redecorate or she'd think about him every time she was in it.

How dare he ruin her bedroom for her? She'd barely had time to enjoy it. Gulping back her sobs, she wiped her eyes, dried her fingers on her jeans, and then yanked out the cord to the lights on the Christmas tree.

M
ARLIE'S DIZZYING SOCIAL
whirl had severely cut into her work time. No work meant no money and so far, December had been an expensive month with the new clothes and shoes and hair maintenance and, wow, underwear sure cost a lot these days. She hadn't even gone Christmas shopping yet. Fortunately, she had a couple of days before her piper and drummer dates. They were both going to be this weekend at the Houston Highland Games, the piper on Saturday and the drummer on Sunday.

Marlie got to work updating websites for clients running after-Christmas sales and designing mock-ups for the new clients she'd acquired as a result of her work on the auction website. She barely noticed the passing hours until Ty walked by her office.

He was carrying grocery-store bags. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I keep meaning to go to the store.”

“No prob. I'm making us salads. I'll call you when they're ready.”

Marlie stared after him, analyzing what he'd just said. Ty was fixing a meal. For both of them. Salads. Salads? Did that
count as cooking for her? If so, why? And he'd been picking up the household chores she'd let slide, too, not to mention the tree. No. She wouldn't mention the tree. He was being thoughtful and considerate. This was not normal for him. How could they go back to normal if he kept acting nice to her?

Marlie couldn't concentrate, so she gave up and climbed the stairs.

Ty had actually set the table with placemats and everything. “Hey, I was just about to call you.”

“I got to a stopping place.” This was all very nice and homey. He must want something.

He set two plates of salad on the table and gestured. “Take a seat.”

Marlie sat and noticed that she was facing the lit Christmas tree. Behind her, Ty turned out the kitchen light leaving the tree as the sole source of illumination. And it was plenty.

Okay, what was up? “So, Ty. Salad?”

He flashed her a smile as he slipped into the chair at the end of the table, leaving her a clear view of the tree. “After last night's junk food orgy, you need veggies.”

“True,” Marlie agreed, and speared a forkful of lettuce. After chewing and swallowing, she mixed up the greens before taking another bite. “Ty? Is there dressing on the salad?”

“No,” he said. “I put in a few pieces of grilled chicken from the deli and a couple of those yellow peppers you like. Some carrots, too. Nothing to interfere with the flavor of the lettuce.”

Apparently, he was serious. Not wanting to criticize him and discourage him from ever “cooking” for her again, Marlie ate another couple of bites before giving in. “I think I'd prefer just a little dressing.” She went to the fridge, brought out an assortment of individual packets left over from previous take-out meals, and dropped them in a pile on the table. After
sorting through them, she picked a low-cal vinaigrette and dribbled it on her salad. “Ah. Much better.”

Ty watched her eat, and then chose one for himself. “You're right. It is better with dressing.”

Marlie narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

He smiled. “That's true for a lot of things.”

“What's true?”

“Oh…sometimes things need a little boost. A little extra.”

“What things?” she asked suspiciously.

“Well, mashed potatoes need gravy. Pancakes need syrup.” He looked around. “Walls need pictures. And…”

She followed his gaze and sighed, knowing where this was headed. “Christmas trees need ornaments?”

“You know, you're right,” he said as though he'd just noticed. “I mean, the tree's magnificent as it is, but a little dressing would improve it.”

“It'll need a lot of dressing.”

“You're right about that, too!” Ty gave her a delighted smile.

Marlie rolled her eyes and ate more salad. Eventually, he wore her down by not saying anything. “Ty, do you want to go shopping for Christmas ornaments?”

“With you?”

“Yes, with me.”

“I wasn't sure.” He stood and carried their empty plates to the sink. “You might have been telling me to go by myself.”

“Would you?”

He gave her a stern look. “No.”

“Just checking. You're going to make me decorate with you, too, right?”

“Yes. I'm going to force holiday merriment on you. Grab your jacket. Santa's Outlet has a ‘buy-one-get-one-free' sale
going on.
And
I have a ten-percent coupon they gave me when I bought the lights.”

He said “coupon.” Marlie snickered to herself. Mr. Sophisticated was talking coupons.

However, coupon or not, the outing was going to put a serious ding in her bank balance, Marlie thought as she shrugged into a puffy jacket with a hood.

Ty looked at her incredulously.

“What?”

“Did you bring that with you from Seattle?”

“Yes, why?” She looked down at herself. “What's wrong with it?”

“Nothing, if you're in Seattle. But it's too hot for here.” He unzipped her parka and her skin reacted as though she wore nothing beneath it.

“You should ditch the hoodie.” Ty met her gaze and slowly pushed the jacket off her shoulders.

Marlie's mouth went dry. Why did it feel as though he was undressing her?

She whipped off her hoodie, feeling exposed even though Ty had seen her in a tank top many times.

He held her parka and she turned her back to slip her arms in the sleeves. Ty brought it up over her shoulders and rested his hands there.

Marlie felt the weight and warmth of his hands through the puffy quilting and was acutely aware of the solid wall of his chest behind her.

Ty's thumbs kneaded the muscles at the base of her neck and traveled outward toward her arms. “You work too hard.”

Marlie clamped her eyes shut. She wanted to lean her head against him and let her muscles melt beneath his touch. But she didn't. “I do what I have to.”

His hands fell away and Marlie reached for her purse.

“Hey,” he said.

Marlie risked a glance upward and met Ty's troubled blue gaze. “If you don't have time for this now, I'll get ornaments.”

Go with him, go with him,
her heart urged.

Do not bond with him over Christmas ornaments,
her mind cautioned.

Live for the moment, live for the moment,
said her heart.

“I've got time,” she said.
No, you don't!
“I need a break and it'll be fun.”

Ty beamed down at her as though she'd granted his fondest wish. It made her a little breathless, him looking at her like that. But while her mind tried to figure out the implications, her heart bounced around happily.

Bounce now, pay later,
her mind warned.

Shut up and send me the bill,
said her heart.

 

“Y
OU'RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE
a theme,” Ty complained as they unloaded ornaments from the car. “We don't have a theme.”

“Yes, we do,” Marlie countered with a laugh. “Our theme is Christmas.”

Giggling she ran up the stairs. She was carrying big plastic bags of super-sized, light-weight ball ornaments. Ty followed more slowly with the heavier stuff. “We look like we've gorged ourselves at an all-you-can-decorate Christmas buffet.”

He'd forgotten about Marlie's inability to decide when presented with too many choices. When she was little, she'd taken forever at the ice cream shop, conning the counter clerks into giving her sample after sample. And hadn't she told him about looking at hundreds of drawer pulls? It's a wonder her house ever got built.

Taking her to a Christmas discount warehouse wasn't the most brilliant idea he'd ever had, except she'd become giddy with excitement, something he hadn't seen in her for years.
To be honest, he was so glad to see that enthusiasm back, he'd have taken her to ten warehouses, if she'd wanted.

Marlie dropped her bags and raced downstairs for another load.

He couldn't believe how much fun they'd had. Marlie had warned him that she had to go back to work when they got home, but Ty's plan was to talk her into decorating the tree now, especially when she was in such a happy, silly mood. It was contagious and Ty felt happier and lighter than he had in a long time. It was so easy being with Marlie—except for the desire that constantly simmered in his veins.

Groundwork first.
Tonight, they'd decorate the tree. Another night, he'd seduce her beneath it. He'd feed her food and wine and music and they'd sit and talk by the light of the tree. He'd kiss her until they were both dizzy with wanting. He'd pull back and—this was the important part—tell her he loved her and planned to stick around. Using better words than “stick around,” but with that sentiment. Because he'd stuck to his plan of walking the walk before talking the talk, she'd believe him. And then there would be bliss.

Ty was sorting the ornaments when Marlie carried up the last of the bags.

“Why do you have everything in little piles around the tree?” she asked.

“I'm arranging the ornaments by size and type so they'll be distributed evenly within the quadrants.”

“Quadrants?” Marlie grinned.

“Front, back, side, side?” Normally, he'd sort by color, as well, but there were so many colors, it wouldn't matter.

She watched him a moment. “What would happen if I just started hanging ornaments on the tree any old way?”

Ty swiveled on one knee to look at her. “Why would you do that?”

“For fun!” She ripped the plastic on a package of oversized
balls, removed one and forced the end of a branch through the wire circle at the top. The red ball stuck out like a clown's nose.

Ty gave her an exasperated look as he stood and pulled it off.

“Ohhh,” she said, drawing out the word. “You're one of
those.
”

“Those?”

“‘Everything-has-to-be-perfect' tree decorators.”

He looked down at the piles of ornaments around his feet. Marlie had danced up and down the aisles grabbing everything from angels to snowmen to cartoon characters—and cartoon characters
as
angels. “Not happening here.”

Marlie snatched the ball out of his hands.

“Marlie, you need ornament hooks.”

Ignoring him, she pushed a branch through the end. “I like the ball sticking out like this.”

It looked horrible, but he wasn't going to argue with her about it. Shaking his head, he stepped over the piles to a bulky sack. “Catch.” He tossed her a sleeping-bag-sized package of white batting.

“I didn't think you were serious when you said we needed padding under the tree skirt.”

Ty ripped the thin plastic on a second bag. “Absolutely.” He knelt and began arranging the mounds of white.

Marlie tore into her bag. “Why are we doing this now?”

“You're supposed to put the tree skirt on first.”

“There's an order?” She rolled her eyes.

“Skirt, lights, ornaments, garland, and topper.”

“What about tinsel?”

He shuddered. “We do not have tinsel.” Ty held out his hands for her bag of batting.

She looked like she wanted to drop it on his head instead
of handing it to him. “But if we did, when would we put it on?”

“We will never have tinsel.” He compromised on the colored lights. He compromised on the lack of theme. Ty glared at the red bulb on the end of a branch. He even compromised on
ornament
hooks. He drew the line at tinsel. “Where's the tree skirt?”

“Over here somewhere.” Marlie moved toward the bags next to the couch. “What's wrong with tinsel?”

Seriously? “It's tacky.”

She hooted. “Did you just say ‘tacky'?”

“Yes. Tinsel is tacky and it gets everywhere.” Ty sat back on his heels and studied the padding he'd carefully mounded to best display the skirt. “It slithers off the branches.”

“But it's shiny and glittery and happy.” Marlie twirled around with her arms out. “When you walk by, it waves to you.”

She made him smile. Clearly, they had Christmas tree compatibility issues. But he didn't care. Except about the tinsel. His parents used it for a time and it would catch on his clothes, especially when he snuck around and tried to figure out what the presents were. Then he'd show up at school with some in his hair and his friends would make fun of him. “Tinsel is lazy decorating,” he said. “People stick up an artificial tree and throw tinsel at it and think they're done.”

“Maybe they are,” Marlie said. “Maybe they don't want nutcrackers, and Santa Clauses, and rocket ships, and wizards and Scooby Doo wearing an elf hat on their tree. Maybe they just want lights and shiny icicles.”

Ty leveled a look at her as she searched for the tree skirt in the many, many shopping bags. “Then maybe they shouldn't have gone crazy at the Christmas outlet warehouse.”

“Says the person who went crazy at the Christmas tree lot.”
Suddenly, Marlie straightened, her back to him, and turned out the room lights.

“Hey, why did—”

Laughing, she spun around, launching the contents of a jumbo bag of tinsel into the air. Glittery clouds of silver floated down, some landing on the tree, some clumping to the floor, but most falling in a shimmery stream all over Ty and Marlie. Mostly Ty.

He got to his feet. “Wha—! You—”

Marlie giggled.

Ty raked his fingers through his hair, staring with loathing at the shiny strands he pulled out. “Tinsel! When did you buy this?”

“While you were bringing the car around. They had bins of it by the checkout stands!”

Yes. He'd seen those bins. He looked from a gleeful Marlie to his defaced tree. From far above his head, tinsel on the highest branches waved at him. A clump slid off the bookshelves behind him and landed on his shoulder.