Between Strangers (8 page)

She'd spent some time searching through the kitchen cabinets and had found popcorn and hot chocolate mix. Maybe she could make him feel a little better about missing the family party back at his ranch by putting together a cozy little Christmas Eve for the three of them. It seemed like the least she could do.

He was taking a long time outside again, and it was jangling her nerves. She went to a window and quickly discovered that the view had been blocked by windblown snow. No wonder it had seemed too dark in here for midday.

Marcy checked the rest of the windows and found they had all been buried by snow buildup. A tiny shiver of claustrophobia left her hunching her shoulders and taking deep breaths.

Digging into the refrigerator and pantry with a vengeance, she decided to make a Christmas Eve celebration that would be just what they both needed to take their minds off their current situation.

By the time Lance came stomping into the mud room, located off the kitchen, loaded down with bags and duffels, she had slice-and-bake chocolate chip cookies in the oven and all the materials gathered for stringing together popcorn and defrosted cranberries. It was something she remembered her mother had
done while they waited for her father to come home from the local bar on Christmas Eve. Many Christmases he never made it home at all.

“Mmm. It smells good in here,” Lance said as he shrugged out of his coat and entered the kitchen.

Looking up just in time to catch a glimpse of broad shoulders and a scrumptious butt in tight jeans as he bent to check the oven, she completely lost her train of thought. Darn, but he was the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on.

“I'm baking cookies, and I thought later we'd have hot chocolate,” she murmured with a quiet sigh.

“That sounds nice. What are you doing now?”

She held up the popcorn bowl. “I'm going to string popcorn and cranberries. After that, I'll try to make a few decorations with flour. Maybe it'll be at least a little festive in here. I hope Vicki doesn't mind that I've used her things.”

“She won't. In fact, I know she would be more than happy for you to use anything you find. She's one of the most generous and giving people I know.” He settled his large body into a chair at the kitchen table next to her. “Can I help?”

The question took her back a second. “Really?” She had never known a man who cared about anything as sentimental as Christmas decorations.

He nodded. “Please? But you'll have to show me what to do.”

“Sure.” She handed him a length of string and a fat needle and demonstrated the proper technique.

Lance fumbled with the cranberries, but under Marcy's gentle tutoring he started to get the hang of
it. Part of his trouble was that he couldn't concentrate with her bending over him and guiding his hands with her own. She giggled when he stuck the needle in his finger, and the sound of her laughter undid him totally.

When he'd first stepped inside and caught a whiff of the homey smells of popcorn and cookies baking, his knees went weak with pleasure. This was just as he'd always pictured how a home should be.

He couldn't wait until the day when he would come in from the cold to find his own baby in her crib taking a nap, good smells coming from his own oven and his loving wife waiting at the kitchen table. As he tried to shirk off the familiar desire for a home, stronger, more urgent needs began to seep under his resolve and assail his senses.

Whenever Marcy moved closer, he caught a whiff of a scent much more sensual than cookies. He recognized that sexy sunshine smell, along with the unique smell that belonged to Marcy alone. It stirred his body in ways that he'd promised himself he wouldn't go.

With a shake of a shoulder, he decided that what they needed right now was to talk. Listening to her laugh, and sitting here soaking up the clash of those smells, was dragging his senses into overdrive and could not be a very smart thing to do.

“Do you always have a big celebration at Christmas?” he asked her.

Her expression went still for a second, then she smiled sadly. “I've never had what you might call a ‘big' celebration. My parents couldn't afford to do a
lot for Christmas. My mom always tried to compensate by making me little gifts. But in my opinion the best part was that she was off work and could spend time with me.”

She looked so serious that he was sorry he'd ever brought it up. He needed to find something else to talk about to take her mind off her past Christmases.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he felt the rough edges of the ring box he still carried. “I never finished telling you the story of how I came to have the antique ring, did I?” As he came to the end of a string of popcorn, he handed it over and began again. “It was really such an odd thing. At a late hour, I came barreling out of the funeral parlor in New Orleans where my grandmother's service had just been held.”

In his mind, he could see the dark scene and feel the pain of a loss he didn't know how to explain. “I wasn't thinking too clearly. I guess I was all wrapped up in wanting a relationship with my grandmother that would never happen.”

He looked into Marcy's eyes and felt an immediate bond. But that was also something he couldn't have explained if his life depended on it. So he let himself wander back to that night in New Orleans.

“Maybe I walked in circles, I don't remember. I only remember that suddenly a home and a family to call my own became the most important things in the whole world. I lost several hours while I stumbled around wishing I had someone to go home to.”

Marcy reached out and placed her hand over his. But the touch only confused and confounded him. He jerked back and stood.

“How about I make us that hot chocolate while I finish my story?” he asked as he stepped away from the table. “I think I can manage to do two things at one time.”

He couldn't remember why it had seemed so important to tell her this story. But all of a sudden it was imperative that he finish. And it was hard to think when she was near.

“Anyway,” he continued while he picked up the instant hot chocolate packets and tore them open. “I began to daydream about Montana…of how I'd felt at home there for the first time in my life. Then I thought of the people on the ranch and how much I wanted them to be my real family.”

He sighed and stood with the packets suspended in his hand as he lost himself in the memory of that night in New Orleans. “It came to me in a flash. If Lorna and I married, I would really become part of her family. The whole problem suddenly had a simple solution.

“My life would have a purpose. In my head I could visualize the steps that were necessary to make my dream happen. I tried to go through the Navajo's Four Directions, the things that would take me to my goal. First to the East…the thinking direction. But I figured I had thought about it enough…all my life it seemed. So the next direction was South…to plan.”

A strangled chuckle escaped his lips as he remembered how he had planned to buy a ring, fly home for Christmas Eve and begin his new life by asking for Lorna's hand in marriage. It had sounded so easy.

His voice grew rough, but he had to tell the story.
“It was late by then, and even in the French Quarter most of the retail stores were closed. But I was determined not to fly home without an engagement ring. My plan called for a ring. I wasn't going to ask her without one.”

“Lance…”

Marcy's voice captured his attention, but he put his palm out in a gesture to stop her from getting up. “No, let me just tell you what happened,” he urged. “I was headed toward a shop that I thought might be open when I rounded a corner and bumped into an old gypsy woman.

“It was the strangest thing. I knocked into her pretty hard and when she staggered, I stopped to make sure she was all right. She was ancient-looking and so thin I was afraid I had really injured her. But before I could ask how she was, she called me by name.”

The memory still shook him. “Really,” he mumbled as if to assure himself it was true. “She said, ‘Have no fear, Lance White Eagle Steele, all is as it should be.'

“I was taken aback by her words, let me tell you. And I was just about to ask her if she recognized me from my rodeo days when she reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a ring box. ‘I have something for you,' she said and shoved the box into my hands.”

He looked down at the hot chocolate packets in his hand, but it was the box he was seeing…remembering. “It was like I was suddenly in a trance. I opened the box and there was an antique engagement ring. It
stunned me, it was so close to what I had envisioned buying.

“Out of the haze I was in, I heard the old woman telling me that this was in partial payment of a legacy…a debt that was owed to Lucille Steele and through her to me.” Lance absently set down the packet and dug into his pocket for the ring box. “Lucille was my grandmother, but I was focused on the ring, the answer to my prayer. I couldn't have spoken…not even if I had been able to think of what to say or the questions I should've asked.”

Opening the ring box, he once again gasped at the first sight of the antique ring inside. It took his breath away.

“Anyway,” he finally continued with a whoosh of air. “While I studied the intricate carvings and sparkling diamonds, the gypsy mumbled something like, ‘Let this ring take you to your heart's desire.' When I looked up again, the gypsy woman had disappeared.”

He held the open box out for Marcy to see. “Look at this ring. Isn't it spectacular?”

“It's truly beautiful, Lance.” Marcy gently fingered the ring, and he belatedly realized she was standing right before him.

When he glanced up, she was looking straight at him and not at the ring. Her eyes had turned from light brown to crystallized amber, and they shone with unshed tears like shimmery liquid gold. His hand reached to touch her cheek.

In the depths of her eyes, he saw Christmases yet
to come, all sparkling and bright. With children, babies, warmth and laughter.

“Lance…”

His fingers stroked the satiny softness of her jaw. But when his thumb ran across her bottom lip, the cozy warm emotions changed with lightning intensity.

She leaned into his palm and placed the softest of kisses there. He exploded with need. As she turned to gaze into his eyes, he saw the reflection of his own lust on her face. Their warmth had ignited in an agony of fire.

He blinked. Once. Twice. As beautiful as she was, and as much as he wanted her,
this
wasn't the woman for him. Deciding that what he'd seen in her eyes was an illusion born of simple desire, Lance backed away and broke the connection.

“I…I'm going…out,” he stammered. “I have some chores to do, so I'll be gone for quite a while. Don't worry about me.” With a loud snap he closed the ring box, turned to the door…and ran.

M
arcy's feet seemed glued to the floor as she stared at the empty space where Lance had stood only moments before. Her nerves still hummed with need. Her body still flamed at all the spots where he'd touched her skin.

What happened? She wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging back the cold, empty loneliness that his sudden departure caused.

That was twice, now, that they'd been close to fulfilling what had become her urgent dream. Twice that he'd pushed away and left her standing, arms aching to hold him and lips tingling for more of his kisses.

This time, though, she had actually felt the magic in the air. The sizzle of it continued to pulsate around her.

She tried swallowing down the desire, but that
didn't do much to alleviate her needs. Spinning around in a circle, Marcy fought to steady herself.

A baby's cry crept through the purple haze that surrounded her. Angie. The baby needed her, and she shook herself free from the sensual fog to go to her daughter's side. She wanted Lance as much as the baby needed her, and she wondered what she could do differently to keep him with her the next time?

He had to want her as much as she wanted him, she was absolutely positive. So maybe it was up to her to get around his indecision. Running a hand through her mass of unruly hair, Marcy vowed to find a way to make a difference.

Somehow, she would make him understand that there was nothing she expected from him. In fact, a commitment to stay in one place with one person was the very last thing on her mind. He could go back to Montana and build a home after she was gone. But they just
had
to find out where this electric tension between them would lead before they went their separate ways.

Marcy changed the baby, carried her to the kitchen and plopped her into the high chair Lance had dragged down from the attic. “I think I just need to fix myself up to look sexier. Don't you agree, Angie?”

The baby grinned as Marcy went about pouring some milk and opening a jar of baby food. “I'm sure he likes me well enough, so that isn't a problem,” she told her child. “I bet it's just that he has a little of that motherhood thing your daddy had.”

Angie babbled as Marcy took her time sitting down
in a kitchen chair beside her and then picked up the baby food jar. Unintelligible words and sounds came spewing from the baby's mouth as she reached out to her mother.

“Oh, it isn't about you, sweetheart,” Marcy crooned as she spooned the food into Angie's waiting mouth. “I know he likes you, too. I've caught him staring at you when he wasn't aware I was watching. There's a special tenderness in his eyes when he looks at you that's clear enough for anyone to understand.” The baby grinned again, and food went dribbling over her chin.

Marcy took a halfhearted swipe at the mess and tried once more. “It's that shadow of something wild and slightly dangerous in his eyes when he looks at me that I have to find out more about.” Marcy shivered as the memory of his touch danced down her spine and landed, wet and heavy, at the base. “Let's make the kitchen and great room feel like a real Christmas for him, Angie. Then I'll see if I can find a way to become sexy enough so he won't be able to stop the next time. Okay?”

Angie giggled and rocked back and forth in her chair. Marcy took it as a good sign that her daughter agreed with all her mother's decisions.

After giving the baby a cup of milk and cleaning off her face and hands, she put Angie on the kitchen floor with a couple of pots and pans and a big serving spoon so she could play and make all the noise she wanted. They were going to have fun. Marcy hadn't made Christmas decorations since she was little.

While she kept an eye on Angie, she baked tons of
cookie dough snowmen, a Santa and all his reindeer. Vicki kept red and green sugar sprinkles in her pantry so the decorations turned out quite festive.

Then Marcy found a box of aluminum foil. Digging into the recesses of her memory, she remembered how her mother had built shiny silver ornaments out of foil. Sparkly aluminum stars, balls, snowflakes and even an angel.

When Marcy was finished, the kitchen and great room had homemade ornaments hanging from every surface. She found a couple of candles and made a pretty table centerpiece. The place smelled of cinnamon and sugar, and everything looked warm and cozy, resembling a real old-fashioned Christmas.

She hoped that Lance would like what she'd done.

Thinking of Lance, she wondered if he was all right outside. It had been a couple of hours since he'd left, and she hadn't heard a thing from him. If only the windows were clear, perhaps she could spot him as he worked nearby.

“I wonder if the attic has a window,” she murmured to Angie as she swung her up in her arms. “Let's go check it out.”

Marcy and the baby climbed the stairs to the second-floor attic and opened a big door at the top. The one large and open room had finished walls, a wood floor and a dormer window at one end. Enough filtered light streamed through the glass so that she could see well enough.

As Marcy made her way around boxes and furniture and headed for the window, she realized that Vicki and Bobby were a lot neater about their stored
things than most people she knew. The boxes were all marked and stacked in sections. And the furniture was arranged in such a way that Marcy was sure their children used this space as a playroom.

Finally she stood at the window with Angie in her arms, looking out to the north over a wide expanse of yard. The landscape was flat and covered in icy blue snow for as far as she could see. Shadows of evergreens, half-buried in the stark white, could be seen peeking out in patches here and there.

Tiny icicles hung off the roof and made her think of outdoor Christmas decorations. It was late afternoon and the rose and violet rays of refracted sun bounced off the ice with gay abandon. The world outside was a winter wonderland.

Looking closer, she noticed a set of footprints in the snow, leading out of her line of sight. One lonely set of prints going out but none coming back.

He'd told her not to worry. So she tried to think of something else.

With Angie in her arms, she turned back to the cozy attic room. As she did, Marcy spied large black plastic bags stashed in a corner and seeming out of place in the neat space.

When she got close enough to see, a plainly printed note that was pinned to the top bag came into view. “Look at that, Angie,” she said absently. “These are old clothes that they've bagged up to send to charity. Most of the things are baby clothes their children must've grown out of. See? The bags are marked with children's ages.”

One of the bags near the top was labeled Girl— Twelve to Eighteen Months.

“You don't suppose Vicki would mind if we went through the clothes?” Marcy asked the baby. “Maybe some of these things will fit you.”

She went through the top bag and found two pair of pants and a sweater that fit Angie. Then she came across an adorable red dress with white fake fur trim in the shape of Christmas trees that was only slightly big on the baby. “This will be fun for you to wear tonight when Lance comes back, Angie.”

The baby gurgled and patted Marcy's cheek. “Ma…Ma.”

Laughing and jiggling her baby in her arms, Marcy hugged her tight. “You said real words, Angie. How about that.”

But just then the bag directly underneath the little girl's clothes caught her attention. It was marked in a way that made Marcy think it must be Vicki's outgrown or out-of-date things. She opened it up and found dressy dresses and shoes, a few fancy sweaters and a couple of satiny robes.

Holding her breath, Marcy pulled out a slinky black dress with sparkly rhinestones sewn in the material. She'd never seen anything so beautiful and…sexy.

When she held it up to herself, she couldn't help the smile that came. “I think it's going to fit just fine. Now we can fix up for a real Christmas Eve party, baby. Let's go take a long bubble bath and make ourselves pretty.”

 

By the time she heard Lance at the mudroom door, Marcy had languished for a half hour in a perfumed
bath, then dressed both herself and the baby in their fancy clothes. Her own mass of frizzy curls was pinned up and almost sophisticated, while Angie's baby-fine wisps were held back tenuously with a foil-covered bobby pin.

The spaghetti dinner was cooking on the stove and everything was in place for their Christmas Eve party. She ran a hand down to smooth out the wrinkles of the white apron she'd put over the black dress. Throwing her shoulders back, she went to see what was taking Lance so long at the door.

But she couldn't get close to the mudroom. “What on earth is this?” she asked.

From behind a bushy pine tree that was taking up most of the space in the mudroom, Lance sounded rough but strong. “It's a Christmas tree. Just wait until we get it set up, it's a beauty.”

“But where did you buy a tree? How did you get to a store?”

“Buy? No way,” Lance said as he came into view behind the tree. “Bobby has a stand of evergreens on the back section of his land. I cut the tree myself. And now if you'll fill this bucket with water, I'll get it set up in the great room.”

She did as he asked, and within a few minutes the tree was installed and ready to be trimmed. Together, she and Lance took down some of the aluminum balls and strings of popcorn and used them to decorate the tree. The smell of fresh-cut pine added to the cozy ambience and was just the thing to make the place seem ready for Christmas.

“It's beautiful,” she said as she stepped back to admire the tree and took off her apron. “What made you think of it?”

“I've never had a Christmas tree before. And when I saw the pine trees, I just thought it might make Christmas a little more special for you and Angie this year.” He turned a full circle, taking in the whole place, then stopped as his gaze lazily wandered up her body and back to her feet again. “But the decorations and tree are not the only beautiful and special things here. What have you done to yourself? You look—” he cleared his throat “—terrific.”

She raised a hand to pat down a wayward curl that had escaped the pins, and tried a smile. “Angie and I found some things in the attic that Vicki had set aside for donation. I hope she doesn't mind that we tried them on.” Twisting around so he could see the back of her dress, Marcy felt her nerves singing under his scrutiny. “Do you like it?”

He stepped closer and gently pushed another curl behind her ear. “You look like a million bucks. I wish I
could
get to a store right now. Sparkling earrings would make the outfit complete.” His fingers lingered against her earlobe, softly rubbing the tender skin there. “On the other hand, you don't need fancy stones to make you more beautiful. You are a brilliant gem…a shining diamond…all on your own.”

It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. She bit back the tears that threatened and stepped out of his reach. “Thank you. I hope you're hungry, because Angie and I made you a special Christmas dinner. She's waiting for you to begin.”

Marcy took his arm and pulled him toward the kitchen. “Don't forget to compliment her on her new outfit,” she whispered. “Angie's never had such a pretty dress before and she needs your approval.”

“You two did all this…” He waved his hand through the air. “The decorations, the dinner, the dresses. For me?”

“We wanted you to know we're sorry you had to miss your Christmas Eve party back in Montana,” Marcy told him. “And the look on your face was worth all the work.”

Lance swallowed hard to force away his suddenly blurred vision, then made a big fuss over Angie's new dress. “Can you ladies wait a few more minutes while I take a quick shower?” he finally asked. “I'm too grubby to be seen with two such gorgeous women.”

Besides, he thought, if he didn't take a moment, he would never be able to get through supper.

 

After the dishes were washed and the leftover cookies were put away, he carried a sleepy-eyed Angie to her crib. Marcy got the baby ready for the night while he stoked the fire in the great room and found an orchestral Christmas CD to play.

The tree, the decorations and the carols all combined to put him in a mellow mood by the time Marcy joined him on the sofa in front of the fire. “You did a wonderful job with everything,” he told her. “I'm sure the Christmas Eve party in Montana is not nearly this cozy.”

In the flickering light of the fire, he saw her flush with pleasure at his words. The pink stain moved to
her neck and spread across her shoulders. It was almost more than he could stand to keep himself from wrapping her up in his arms so he could let his lips follow that flush to all her tender places.

The slinky dress she'd chosen fit her like a second skin. Black and shimmery against her pale complexion, the dress made her look sexy as hell. It also made him wonder what she had on underneath.

“I talked to one of Bobby and Vicki's neighbors this afternoon,” he said instead of doing what his body was beginning to demand. “Stan Ottwell. He was on his snowmobile and saw me cutting down the tree.”

“Oh? Was he upset?”

“Naw. I've met Stan before. I told him what happened to us and why we're here. He said he'd heard that the highway had been reopened this morning and that the snowplows would be out working by tomorrow.” Lance watched Marcy's eyes widened and turn to golden amber once again. “He also offered to bring his tractor over tomorrow afternoon after Christmas dinner and dig the SUV out of the ditch.”

“So soon?” She scooted closer to him and the heat from the fireplace exploded in his gut.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Looks like we'll get you and Angie to Cheyenne in plenty of time.” Lance opened and closed his fists, trying to relieve the pressure of the building flames that burned him from the inside out.