Linda Lael Miller Bundle (15 page)

Maybe he wouldn’t even want a woman like that. Maybe—“Shay.”

She realized that she’d been staring at Kelly’s pin and made herself meet Mitch’s gaze. Her throat was constricted and though her lips moved, she couldn’t make a sound.

“I know my nose doesn’t light up,” he said with a teasing note in his voice, “but surely I’m more interesting than a plastic Santa Claus.”

Shay found her voice. It was deeper than usual and full of strange little catches. “You’re definitely more interesting than a plastic Santa Claus,” she agreed. “But we won’t make any rash statements about the nose until after Marvin and Jeannie’s Christmas party.”

He laughed and kissed her hungrily, but then they both remembered the children and the airport full of people and they drew apart.

“Yuk,” said Hank, but his protest lacked true conviction.

Ivy’s face glowed as she turned, displaying her dress for Shay. It was a beautiful white gown with tiny crystal beads stitched to the full, flowing skirt and the fitted bodice. Because this was a Christmas wedding, the hem, neckline and cuffs boasted a snowy trimming of fur.

Shay’s gown, like Kelly’s, was of floor-length red velvet, also trimmed with fur. In lieu of flowers, the attendants would carry matching muffs with sprigs of holly attached.

“We look beautiful!” Kelly piped out, admiring herself in the mirror of the little dressing room at the back of the church.

Ivy laughed and her joy brought a pretty apricot flush to her cheeks. “We do, don’t we?”

There were still a few tinsel halos and shepherds’ robes lying about from the Christmas program that had been held earlier and Shay gathered them up just for something to do to pass the time. It wasn’t her wedding, but she was almost as excited and nervous as if it had been.

Ivy’s mother, an attractive if somewhat icy woman, came in, followed closely by Mitch. It was obvious that Elizabeth was trying to ignore her stepson, but Shay couldn’t. He looked so handsome in his dark tuxedo that she almost gasped.

He gave Shay a wink over Elizabeth’s rigidly coiffed champagne-blond head and then turned his attention to Ivy. Elizabeth winced at his wolf-whistle, but Ivy glowed.

“We look beautiful, don’t we, Daddy?”

Mitch crouched to look into Kelly’s face. “Yes, indeed, you do.”

“You shouldn’t have just walked in here that way,” Elizabeth fretted, speaking to Mitch but not looking at him. “They might have been dressing.”

Mitch wagged a finger in her face. “Peace on earth, Elizabeth. Good will toward men.”

To the surprise of everyone, Elizabeth permitted herself a faltering smile. “You are just like your father,” she said. Shay hoped that Mitch had noticed the love in Elizabeth’s face when she mentioned his father.

“Merry Christmas, Elizabeth,” he said gently, and then he kissed Ivy’s cheek and left the room.

There were tears glistening in Ivy’s eyes as she looked at her mother. “Thank you, Mama,” she said quietly.

“Pish-posh, all I did was speak to the man,” Elizabeth replied, and then she was fussing with Ivy’s skirts and straightening her veil.

Minutes later, Kelly led the way up the aisle of the candlelit church. Shay followed, smiling when she spotted Marvin and Jeannie. As she passed Alice, the old dickens winked at her.

There was a hush in the crowded sanctuary as Ivy appeared in the rear doorway, her face hidden by a veil that caught sparkles of candlelight. Mitch stood at her side, and he looked as comfortable in a tux as he did in the blue jeans and T-shirts he usually wore.

The organ struck the first chord of the wedding march and there was a rustling sound as the guests rose. Everyone else was looking at Ivy, of course, but Shay’s eyes would not leave the man who would give away the bride.

For Shay, the ceremony passed in a shimmering haze. The holy words were spoken and Shay heard them in snatches, adding her own silent commentary. “For better or worse.”
Let it be better.
“For richer or poorer.”
No problem there. These two already have IRAs.
“In sickness and in health.”
Please, they’re both so beautiful.
“Till death do you part.”
They’ll grow old together—I want your word on that, God.
“I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride.”
My feet hurt. Is this thing almost over?

It was over. Triumphant music filled the church and the bride and groom went down the aisle together, each with an arm around the other. Kelly followed, on cue, but the best man had to give Shay a little tug to get her in motion.

Snow was wafting slowly down from the night sky as Ivy and Todd got into their limousine and raced away toward the restaurant where their reception was being held.

Hank pulled at Shay’s skirt. “Mom? If nobody’s at home when Santa Claus gets there, will he still leave presents?”

Shay bent and kissed the top of his head. “Don’t you worry, tiger. He’ll definitely leave presents.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Mitch muttered into her ear. “Where did you say all that stuff was hidden?”

“On the big shelf over the cellar stairs,” Shay whispered back.

“I’ll meet you at the reception,” Mitch said after he’d helped Shay and Alice into Shay’s station wagon. Hank and Kelly were in the back seat giving voice to the visions that would later dance in their heads.

“He’s tall for an elf,” Alice commented as Mitch walked away and got into his own car.

A few hours later, when Hank and Kelly were both sound asleep on beds Mitch had improvised for them by putting chairs together, Ivy and Todd left the reception with the customary fanfare, the guests throwing rice, God throwing snow.

“Did you set the presents out?” Shay whispered to Mitch.

He touched the tip of her nose. “Yes. And I filled Hank’s stocking.”

The other wedding guests were all putting on their coats and the sight gave Shay a sad feeling. It was Christmas eve and she wished that she could share the last magical minutes of the night with Mitch. It would have been fun to set out presents and fill stockings together, talking in Santa Claus whispers….

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mitch said gently. It seemed that he had read her thoughts, that he shared them.

After dropping Alice off at her apartment—like Mitch and Kelly, she would spend Christmas day at Shay’s house—Shay ushered her sleepy son out of the car and up the front walk to the door. The porch light was burning bright and she blessed Mitch for remembering to leave it on as she rummaged through her purse for her keys.

The tinsel on the Christmas tree shimmered in the dim light as Shay passed it, and snow still wafted past the windows. She put Hank to bed and returned to the living room, switching on the small lamp on the desk.

Hank’s toys had been carefully arranged under the tree, his new skateboard, his electric train, his baseball glove. His stocking, resting on the sofa because there was no mantelpiece, bulged with candy canes and jacks, rubber balls and decks of cards. Shay had shopped for all these things herself, but it seemed to her that there were a few more packages than there should have been.

She took a closer look and found that four enormous presents, all tagged with Hank’s name, had been added to the loot. Smiling to herself, she shut out the light and went into her room.

Santa had visited there, too, it seemed. Her bed was heaped with gifts wrapped in silver paper and tied with gossamer ribbons. Shay’s heart beat a little faster as she crept closer to the bed, feeling the wonder, the magic, that is usually reserved for children.

Some of the packages were large, and some were small. Shay shook them, one by one, and the biggest one made a whispery sound inside its box. She lifted a corner of the foil lid but couldn’t see a thing.

Should she or shouldn’t she?

She tried to distract herself by stacking the gifts and carrying them out to the Christmas tree. She would open her presents in the morning, she decided firmly, when Hank opened his. When Mitch and Kelly and Alice were all there to share in the fun.

Resolutely, Shay washed her face, brushed her teeth and put on her warmest flannel nightgown. She tossed back the covers and started to get into bed, only to find a tiny red stocking lying on the sheet.

She upended it and a small, black velvet box tumbled out, along with a note. Shay’s fingers trembled as she opened the paper and read, “I want your body. Love, Santa.”

She was smiling and crying, both at once, as she opened the velvet box. Inside it was a beautiful sapphire ring, the stone encircled by diamonds.

On impulse, she grabbed for the phone on her beside table and punched out Mitch’s number. He sounded wide awake when he answered.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

There was a smile in his voice. “You’re beautiful,” he countered.

Shay willed him to say that the ring was an engagement ring, but he didn’t. She wasn’t going to get out of proposing, it appeared. “I left your present with Mrs. Carraway,” she said, admiring the flash of the beautiful stones. “I asked her to put it in the library, on top of the
TV
.”

“That’s intriguing,” Mitch answered. “I’ll get it and call you back.”

Shay’s heart was in her throat. In order to withstand the wait, she scampered out to the living room and snatched up the big present that had made her so curious.

T
he package was sitting on top of the
TV
set in the library. Mitch smiled as he picked it up and turned it over in his hands, savoring not the gift itself, but the thought of the woman who had given it. After some time, he tore away the wrapping; by the shape, he had expected a book, but he saw now that Shay’s present was a videotape instead.

His lips curved into a grin. The woman was full of surprises.

He slid the tape into the videocassette recorder and pressed the proper buttons and, as he settled himself on the library couch, Shay’s face loomed on the television screen. “Oh, Lord,” she muttered, “I think it’s going already.”

Mitch chuckled.

The camera’s shift from telephoto to wide angle was dizzying; Mitch felt as though he’d been flung backward through a tunnel. Shay was fully visible, standing in front of a gigantic cardboard rainbow and looking very nervous.

“I love you,” Mitch mumbled to her image.

The cardboard rainbow toppled over, and Shay blushed as she bent to pick it up. “You’ll have to be patient,” said the screen Shay. “I rented this camera and I don’t know how to work it.”

He heard Alice say, off-camera, “I’ll be going now. Good luck, dear.” A door clicked shut.

The rainbow threatened to fall again and Shay steadied it before going on. The pace of her living room production picked up speed.

“Mitch Prescott!” she crowed so suddenly and so volubly that he started. “Do I have a deal for you!”

Mitch leaned forward on the couch because the picture on the screen seemed blurry. He told himself that the video camera must have been out of focus.

“We all know that rainbows are a symbol of hope,” Shay went on with an enthusiasm that would have put Marvin Reese to shame. She thumped the rainbow in question and it toppled to the floor again; part of Shay’s
TV
set and the end of her sofa came into view. Resolutely she wrestled the prop back into place. “But rainbows can get a bit ragged, can’t they?”

Mitch almost expected a toll-free number to appear on the screen, along with an order to have his credit card information ready. He grinned and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

“I’m offering you a brand-new rainbow, Mitch Prescott,” Shay went on, in a gentle voice. Then, suddenly, she made him jump again. “But wait!” she cried. “There’s still more!”

Mitch leaned forward.

“With this rainbow—” this time she held onto it with one hand while thumping it for emphasis with the other “—you get one wife, guaranteed to love you always. Yes, that’s right! Even if you get bored and go back to doing dangerous things and writing books about nasty people, this wife will still love you. She’ll laugh with you, she’ll cry with you, and if worse comes to worst, she’ll even fold your socks. Call now, because a woman this good won’t last long! She’s ready to deal!”

Shay left the rainbow to its own devices and came closer to the camera, peering into the lens. “You wanted a proposal and this is it. Will you marry me, Mitch?”

Mitch was overwhelmed with a crazy tangle of emotions; one by one, he unwound them, defined them. There was love, of course; he felt a tenderness so deep that it was almost wounding. There was admiration, there was humor, there was gratitude. He knew, perhaps better than anyone else could have, what it had cost Shay to lay all her emotional cards on the table.

The screen was blank now, buzzing with static. He left the couch, pressed the rewind button on the recorder and watched the tape again, this time standing, his arms folded across his chest as if to brace himself against some tidal wave of emotion.

Shay felt downright dissolute, waking up in a mink coat, curled up around the telephone as though it were a teddy bear.

Mitch hadn’t called. Surely he’d seen the tape by now, but he hadn’t called.

Shay sat up and squinted at the clock on her bedside table. It was five-fifteen. No point in going back to sleep; Hank would be up and ready to rip into the presents at any moment.

She lay back on her pillows, setting the phone away from her. Her hands came to rest in the deep, lush fur of the coat and tears smarted in her eyes. Maybe Mitch didn’t see her as wife material after all. Maybe she was more of a kept woman, a bird in a gilded cage.

Shay bounded off the bed, tore off the fur coat and flung it across the room. Then, in just her flannel nightgown, she padded out into the living room to turn up the thermostat and light the tree. She had just turned away from the coffeemaker when she heard Hank’s first squeal of delight.

When Shay reached the living room, her son was whizzing over the linoleum on his new skateboard. She couldn’t help smiling. “Hank Kendall, get off that thing!” she ordered, a mother to the end.

“I suppose we can’t open presents until Grammie gets here,” he threw out as he came to a crashing stop against the far wall.

“You suppose right, fella.”

Hank was beaming as he left the skateboard behind to crouch in front of the tree and examine his electric train. “This is going to be a great Christmas, Mom!”

Shay leaned against the jamb of the kitchen doorway, her smile a bit shaky now. She’d bared her soul to Mitch Prescott, like a fool, and he hadn’t even bothered to call. Sure, it was going to be a great Christmas. “I’ll get breakfast started.” She waggled a motherly finger at her son. “You content yourself with the Santa Claus things and whatever might be in your stocking, young man. No present-peeking allowed!”

The doorbell rang fifteen minutes later and Shay greeted a package-laden Alice.

“Look, Grammie!” Hank crowed, delighted, as his electric train raced around its track, whistle tooting. “Look!”

Alice laughed and rumpled her great-grandson’s red-brown hair, but it was obvious that she had noticed Shay’s mood. She placed her packages under the tree, took off her coat and bright blue knitted hat and joined Shay in the kitchen.

Shay was thumping dishes and pans around as she set the table for breakfast.

“What’s the matter, Shay?” Alice asked. The look in her eyes indicated that she already knew the answer.

“He gave me a mink coat!” Shay exclaimed, slamming down a platter of sausage links.

“I always said that man was a waster,” Alice mocked in a wry whisper.

Shay was not about to be amused. “It’s some kind of sick game. I made an absolute fool of myself proposing to him—”

“I take it he’s had an opportunity to watch the commercial?”

“He’s had all night!” Suddenly tears began to stream down Shay’s cheeks. “Oh, Alice, he’s going to say no!”

Alice shook her head. “I doubt that very much, Shay. Mitch loves you.”

“Then why hasn’t he called? Why isn’t he here?”

“He probably wants to accept in person, Shay.” At the protest brewing on Shay’s lips, Alice raised both hands in a command of silence. “The man has a little girl, and it
is
six o’clock on Christmas morning, you know. Give him a chance to wade through the wrapping paper, at least!”

Shay was comforted, if grudgingly so. “I still think he should have called,” she muttered.

“Let Mitch have this time with his daughter, Shay,” Alice said gently. “It’s probably the first Christmas he’s spent with Kelly since the divorce.”

Chagrined, Shay nodded. “Breakfast is ready,” she said.

Except for the stack of gifts Mitch had left, Santa Claus-style, on Shay’s bed the night before, all the presents had been opened. The living room looked like the landscape of some strange wrapping-paper planet.

Shay was gathering up the papers and stuffing them into a garbage bag when the doorbell rang. A sense of sweet alarm surged through her as Hank left his electric train to answer.

“That stuff you gave me was really neat!” the little boy whooped, and his face glowed as Mitch lifted him up into his arms and ruffled his hair.

“I’m glad you liked it,” was the quiet answer.

Kelly came shyly past her father, holding the doll that had been her gift from Shay. A beautiful, delicate fairy, complete with silvery wings and wand, the doll was well suited to its ladylike owner. “Thank you very much,” the little girl said, looking up at Shay with Mitch’s eyes.

Shay forgot her own nervousness and smiled at Kelly. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Alice, who had been quietly reading a book she had received as a gift, suddenly leaped out of her rocking chair, the warmth of her smile taking in both Kelly and Hank.

“Let’s go and see how that turkey of ours is coming along, shall we?”

The children followed Alice into the kitchen.

“Crafty old dickens,” Mitch muttered, watching Alice’s spry departing figure with a smile in his eyes.

Shay suddenly felt shy, like a teenager who has just asked a boy to a Sadie Hawkins dance. She just stood there, in the middle of a mountain range of Christmas paper, the garbage bag in one hand, stricken to silence.

Mitch seemed similarly afflicted.

Alice finally intervened. “Get on with it,” she coaxed from the kitchen doorway. “I can’t keep these kids interested in a turkey forever, you know!”

The spell was broken. Mitch laughed and so did Shay, but her nervousness drove her back to her paper gathering.

Mitch waded through the stuff to stop her by gripping both her wrists in his hands. “Shay.”

She looked up into his face, her chin quivering, and thought that if he turned down her proposal, she’d die. She’d surely die.

“Where did you get that rainbow?” he asked softly.

Shay was incensed that he could ask such a stupid question when she was standing there in terrible suspense. “I made it myself,” she finally replied through tight lips.

He pried the garbage bag from one of her hands and a wad of paper from the other. “I love you,” he said.

Shay thought of the mink coat lying on her bedroom floor, the sapphire ring on her finger, the stack of elegantly wrapped gifts tucked beneath the Christmas tree. “I will not be your mistress, Mitch Prescott,” she said in a firm whisper.

Puzzlement darkened his eyes to a deeper shade of brown. “My what?”

“You heard me. If we’re going to be together at all, we’re going to be married.”

One of his hands rose to cup her face. His skin was cold from the crisp Christmas-morning weather outside, and yet his touch was unbelievably warm. “I’m ready to deal,” he said, and the light in his eyes was mischievous.

Shay’s heart was hammering against her rib cage. “Are you saying yes, or what?”

“Of course I’m saying yes.”

Shay’s relief was of such intensity that it embarrassed her, coloring her cheeks. Her eyes snapped. “It so happens, Mr. Prescott, that there are a few conditions.”

“Such as?” he crooned the words, his thumb moving along Shay’s jawline and setting waves of heat rolling beneath her skin.

Shay swallowed hard. “I feel so foolish.”

He kissed her, just nibbling at her lips, at once calming her and exciting her in a very devastating way. “You, the rainbow mender? Foolish? Never.”

“I worked very hard to start my catering business,” she blurted out. There was more to say, but Shay’s courage failed her.

“I understand.”

Shay forced herself to go on. “I don’t think you do, Mitch. I—I thought it was what I wanted, but—”

Mitch arched one eyebrow. “But?”

“But it isn’t. Not for now, anyway. Mitch, I want to take a time-out. I want to let Barbara and Louise run the business for a while. For now, I’d just like to be your wife and Hank’s mother.”

His lips twitched slightly. “Why was that so hard to say?” he asked, and he was holding Shay close now, so close that she could feel the beat of his heart through his coat.

“I guess I thought you were going to be horrified, or something,” Shay mused aloud. “Most women of today…”

“You are not ‘most women,’ Shay.” He cupped his hand under her chin and made her look at him. “I hope you kept that cardboard rainbow.”

Shay was puzzled. “It’s in the utility room. Why would you want a paper rainbow?”

Mitch ran a finger along her jawline again, setting her aquiver. “For the rainy days, Shay. There will be a few of those, you know.”

She understood then, and she smiled. “We’ll have our quarrels, I suppose.”

“Quarrels? We’ll have wars, Shay.” The brown eyes twinkled. “But we’ll have a good time negotiating the peace treaties.”

Shay laughed and snuggled closer to him. “Ummm. I like the sound of that.”

He swatted her bottom with one hand. “You would, you shameless vixen!” His whisper sent an aching heat all through her, and so did his gentle nip at her earlobe.

The tropical sun was hot, shimmering on the white sands of the secluded Mexican beach, dancing golden on water of so keen a blue that just looking at it made Shay’s breath catch in her throat.

“Mitch?”

He was sitting on the small terrace outside their hotel room, his feet up on the railing, a man with five long minutes of marriage behind him. He looked back over one shoulder and laughed. “It’s a little warm for that, isn’t it?”

Shay ran her hands down the front of the mink coat he’d given her for Christmas. “It’s New Year’s day,” she answered. “That means it’s cold at home.”

“Your logic, once again, escapes me.”

Gulls and other seabirds squawked in the silence; it was the time of siesta and most of Mexico seemed to be asleep. Shay yawned and opened her coat.

Mitch, the sophisticate, the man of adventure, actually gasped. His eyes moved over Shay’s naked body with quiet hunger, leaving a fever in their wake. He rose slowly from his chair and came toward her, pressing her back into the shadowy coolness of their room. “Mrs. Prescott,” he muttered. “You are about to have the loving of your life.”

She slid the coat back from her shoulders, allowed it to slip sensuously down her back and arms to the floor, where it lay in a lush, sumptuous pool. “Call now,” she purred. “A wife this good can’t last long.”

As if bewitched, Mitch stepped closer. His throat moved, but he seemed incapable of anything more than the guttural growl he gave when she began unbuttoning his shirt.

Shay undressed her husband very slowly, pausing now and then to touch a taut masculine nipple with the tip of her tongue or tangle a finger in the hair on his chest. His groans of pleasure excited her to greater devilment.