Midnight Kiss (12 page)

“You. You weren’t supposed to be sexy, damn it.”

“What?” He did a double take, then guffawed. “How is one man supposed to keep up with that odd mind of yours?”

“You’re big,” she accused.

“I am. And what, might I ask, am I to do about that?”

“Nothing.” She crossed her arms over her stomach and harrumphed. “My type is lean and dangerous.”

Will sighed and set them swinging again. “You’ve no idea what your type is.”

“I suppose you think it’s you.”

He captured her chin. “Now, why would I be wanting to make myself miserable, getting involved with a difficult woman like you, hmm? Last I looked, I’d not taken leave of my senses.”

Stung, Jordan didn’t respond. How could she argue? She was difficult. And, okay, maybe sometimes she was tired of being so on edge all the time, but… He was so not her type, she reminded herself. A man who worked with his hands, who gardened and cooked. Who wanted some country-girl type and had no taste for night life, for the dangerous edge of risk.

“What’s going on in that serpentine brain?” he asked.

“Nothing. I should go,” she said abruptly. “I never meant to spend the whole day here.”

“Coward.” His face was deadly serious.

“I most certainly am not.”

He merely arched one eyebrow. “You know there’s something between us, and you run rather than face it.”

“Face what?” she scoffed. “You barely even kiss me. Who’s the coward?”

His normally affable manner vanished completely. In a blink, he’d plucked her from her seat and settled her on his lap, sliding one big hand to cradle the back of her head.

And kissed the living socks off her.

For a second, she froze.

Then she dived in. To take control, she’d thought…but control wasn’t in the cards. She dug her hands into
his sides and felt muscles even more impressive than she’d realized. For all that Will looked stocky, he actually had great muscle definition. She’d had a fling with a bodybuilder once, and Will’s torso and arms, not the product of steroids, she was sure, would have made that guy jealous.

Within seconds, she found herself surrounded by arms made of iron, snug against a big, warm body that felt like the haven she’d been seeking all of her life.

Will groaned and deepened the kiss, and Jordan followed him into a special, private place she’d never visited…never even imagined. She slid her arms around his neck and pressed closer against him, wondering if she’d ever kissed a man before who’d taken her on such a roller-coaster ride of emotions like this, spanning the spectrum in seconds.

But she knew the answer already. There was only one Will. And she didn’t know what to do with him.

Finally, it was Will who drew away, and Jordan who whimpered and pulled him back. He resisted, though she felt his body’s vivid response to her. He set her back a few inches, both of them breathing hard, and leaned his forehead against hers.

“Now, Will,” she murmured. “Make love to me now.”

Instead, he lifted her and set her on legs that wouldn’t hold her, steadying her with his hands at her waist.

“No, sweetheart. Not in the heat of the moment.”

“You want me. I know it, and you do, too.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It’s enough for tonight.”

He looked at her sadly. “I’m beginning to think I want more than tonight.”

“Do you always get what you want?” she whispered.

“I can’t tell you. I’ve never wanted anything as I want you. I only know that when we make love, it’s not going to be a whim, not one of your flings. You’re still not ready, Jordan. And I can wait. Not easily, but I’ll manage.”

Her body edgy and aching, Jordan’s temper spiked. She’d love nothing better than to stomp off and never see him again—except that wasn’t at all what she craved to do with this excess of energy she was dying to spend in another fashion.

But he stood there looking at her, blue eyes sparking yet resolute, patient and seeing too much. Jordan had a sense that she was fighting a battle for her life. He would change her. This couldn’t last—they were too different—and where would she be then? Who was she if not Jordan the Shark, with hot and cold running men?

“I can’t be a Marly, Will.”

He smiled. “I happen to like Jordan Parrish, saints preserve my black soul.”

She relaxed enough to laugh. “You are certifiably insane, you know that?”

He shrugged. “I’ll make coffee.”

Jordan sighed. “It’s a lousy substitute for sex.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, darlin’. Just consider it foreplay.” He picked her up and strode inside with her. “Stay a little longer, would you?”

How could anyone remain angry at this man? She relaxed in his arms, enjoying an odd sense of freedom that the night would not, as all her others were, be
about sex. He was the oddest person. He baffled her and enraged her…. “Can I keep my newel posts?”

He glanced down in surprise. “Of course.” He didn’t ask what she would do with them, didn’t make fun of her for wanting them as souvenirs of a day she wouldn’t soon forget. “I’m thinking that with a bit more practice, you could turn one that would fit exactly on my stairs.”

She blinked, absurdly pleased at the notion. “Really?” Then doubt crept in. “I don’t think so.”

“Then I must believe for both of us.” He seemed perfectly serious.

She stared at him and marveled at the kindness that was so integral to his nature. “What am I going to do with you?” she whispered.

He set her down on a bar stool in the beautiful kitchen he’d restored, trapping her between his arms and the counter, his eyes hot and blue and kind.

“Ah, but isn’t that the journey we must take together to find out?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then drew away with an obvious reluctance that pleased her enormously.

“I’d best be making that coffee now.”

Jordan swiveled to watch him, her greedy eyes following every move he made.

W
ILL HAD STAYED AWAY
from her deliberately for nearly a week. Thankfully he had a lot of work to complete for David, and he was intent upon finishing the tiling in the master bathroom that was his concession to modernity. The original bath had been the size of a coat closet. He’d taken that space and a large chunk of the adjoining small bedroom and created a bathroom that would scandalize his family when they saw it. Their family of ten had shared one small bath and thought nothing of it.

One day they would understand that Will was here to stay. Surely when he had a family of his own, his mum and da and at least some of his siblings would relent and pay him a visit.

Though, he had to admit, the prospect of a family seemed further away than ever.

Because now there was Jordan.

Blast his black soul, why could he not simply see reason and walk away from her? Yes, there was more softness in her than anyone else recognized, but the distance between that and Jordan as a wife, much less a mother…surely the moon itself was closer.

What was it about her that drew him so? Was it, as his mum declared, only his weakness for the lost, the lonely? Jordan was lonely, of that he was now certain,
whatever she might argue, and she did want to make love with him very badly. How much of that, however, was simply her competitive urge? He wondered if any man had ever said no to Jordan Parrish.

And why would they?
Even a blind man, robbed of the sight of that tantalizing mouth, those endless legs, the sleek curves—that blind man would hear her husky, come-get-me voice and seek her out.

Yes, he wanted her to the point of distraction. But as lovely as her body was, it was Jordan’s spirit that captivated him. A quick mind, a wry wit and, most of all, a wistfulness she normally hid well…there was much more to be discovered about Jordan.

And he wanted to be the one to do it. Only him and no other.

But she had not yet forsaken her playmates, he’d learned. In a moment of weakness, he’d driven downtown and nearly parked his truck, ready to climb her steps and be done with the waiting.

Then he’d spotted her walking down the street, tossing her head coyly and smiling at another man, one whose expression clearly spoke of anticipation.

Damn you, Jordan,
he thought as he pulled into his driveway and parked. Finn came running, and Will wanted to brush past the dog, to throw something, to yell—

Horrified at the agitation he felt and how that turned him into someone he couldn’t like at all, Will exhaled in one powerful gust and dropped to his haunches. “Sorry, boy.” He gave Finn a good rubbing, then let his head sag while the dog licked his cheek and whimpered.

Perhaps he wasn’t up to the challenge she presented. Gentling Jordan Parrish required too much. She bore
not the faintest resemblance to the woman he’d fixed up this house for, the woman who would make him happy.

Will rose and stared into the growing darkness.

And tasted the bitter ash of defeat.

He should give her the freedom she demanded, let her waste her life however she might. It was her life, after all, as she never ceased to point out, he thought as he strode toward his back door.

As he passed his shop, however, he couldn’t help remembering her childlike joy in turning newel posts, the shy pride when he’d said she could make one for his staircase.

He was so preoccupied as he ascended his back steps that he nearly toppled the package resting against his back door.

“Will Masterson” was written on it in a bold yet feminine slash he didn’t recognize. Beneath it, in smaller letters, “You don’t have to like this, but I thought of you when I found it.”

“Jordan,” it was signed.

He carried the bulky box inside, wondering how she’d managed it herself. He turned on the lights, then set it on his kitchen counter. What could the woman be doing? Carefully he slit the packing tape and dug through foam peanuts to a bubble-wrapped shape below.

Removing the mounds of cushioning required several more minutes, all the while his curiosity racing.

“Well, I’ll be,” he said to Finn when he reached the end. Will shook his head and glanced down at the dog. “She brought me a window.”

It was the stained glass window he’d been seeking
to place above the front porch. Nearly two years he’d been searching, not sure exactly what he wanted and determined to wait until he had that figured out.

You don’t have to like this,
Jordan had written.

He’d thought he’d want to pick it out himself as he’d done with every last inch of this place up to now.

But somehow she’d known what he was looking for before he had. A Celtic knot, a lovers’ knot in shades that would now determine his exterior paint choices at last.

Perhaps she couldn’t cook, didn’t know a weed from a tomato plant, couldn’t sew on a button. No, she wasn’t a Marly, nor did she have any desire to be.

But somehow, prickly, difficult Jordan Parrish understood him. Saw into his heart.

“Oh, but I do like this, sweetheart, very much.”

Just then the thought of the man he’d seen her with earlier punched a hole in the pleasure he felt, but he tightened his fingers on the window frame and knew that she’d never done anything like this for any of those temporary men. Patience.
You have a lot of it, don’t you?

“I’ll need more, now, won’t I, darlin’ Jordan?”

Slow is better,
he’d said to her. “You ass,” he chided himself. “Too cocky for your own good.”

Then he had to smile. He’d made himself scarce, and she’d come to him—with a present, no less.

His normal optimism returned. “You’re mine, sweetheart, and it’s only you who doesn’t know it yet.” He shook his head. “Not that I have the first idea what to be doing with the likes of you.”

Will studied his window with greedy eyes.

And couldn’t help laughing.

God save me, the woman does call a merry tune.

T
WO DAYS LATER, ON
Christmas Eve, Jordan toasted Jimmy Stewart with her eggnog. “Here’s to sappy movies, pal. You made the best.” The joyous faces and uplifted voices of
It’s a Wonderful Life
shone from her TV screen, and she wiped away a traitorous tear. “What’s wrong with you?” She hit the power button on the remote and the screen went dark.

She’d survived the inevitable argument with both of her parents in their separate calls, hadn’t she? Why wasn’t she in California instead of Texas? Why wasn’t she married? Would she ever have kids?

She should be celebrating that triumph, not letting some stupid movie get to her.

She loathed Christmas more than any other holiday. It was all about families, and every avenue to escape it was closed. No stores open, no clubs to lose yourself in music and dancing and whatever else might ensue that would help you pass the time until the world got back to normal.

There might be a bar open somewhere, maybe, full of people without families, but she just didn’t have the heart to go look for it. She could manage one night, anyway. Not like she hadn’t done it before.

She padded across the loft in fuzzy socks to get more eggnog. Halfway there, her buzzer sounded, and Jordan glanced at the clock in surprise. Almost midnight.

The buzzer again.

She shrugged. “What the hell. Might as well see who it is. Probably just some curious drunk.” She hit the button. “We gave at the office.”

“Now, darlin’, would that be any way to talk to a man bearing gifts?”

Will.
“I’m not speaking to you. Go away.” Where had he been while she’d been on pins and needles to know what he thought of her present? Giving him a window had been a stupid idea—hadn’t she known that? “Why are you here at this hour?”

“Santa Claus has much territory to cover. I just finished sneaking off Marly’s roof.”

“You played Santa Claus for them?”

“I’m thinking that up there where you’re warm is a better place to have this discussion, sweetheart. That is, unless you have company.”

“I should say yes.”

“Open up, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” But she hit the buzzer. “You better mean that about gifts.”

“Now, would Santa be coming to such a good girl empty-handed?”

His cheer made her grind her teeth—but even Will was a welcome distraction.

She heard his footsteps on the stairs and yanked the door open. “Where have you been? Why haven’t—” She burst out laughing.

The transformation was amazing. His powerful frame made an impressive Santa, but he looked much plumper than normal. Friendly blue eyes gleamed at her above a snowy-white beard, and he brandished a large package. “Lovely to see you smiling, even at my expense.”

Jordan stepped back and let him inside. “What’s padding you? You’re not that big.”

Will waggled his fake white eyebrows at her. “So
nice that you’ve been paying attention. And here I was thinking you only noticed my handiwork.”

She moved closer, and he stepped away. “Oh, no. No prodding and poking at St. Nick. Inappropriate behavior, Ms. Parrish. Only good girls receive gifts.”

His good humor was infectious. For the first time in nearly a week, Jordan’s heart lifted. “All right, spoil-sport. So what’s in the package?”

“Perhaps some child is waiting for this one.”

“Uh-uh. You’re too honorable. You’d never wave a package under my nose and then take it away. Now give.”

“Now give,”
he echoed. “A cheeky bit of baggage you are. It’s not Christmas morning. This will be going under the tree.” He looked around the room, then back at her. “No tree?”

“A waste of resources.” She jutted her chin.

“Not even artificial?”

One string of lights haphazardly draped over the bookcase, and a couple of poinsettias. For the first time, she saw how sterile this must look, especially if he’d just been at Marly’s.

“Never mind that. Perhaps you’d be sharing a little of that eggnog with Santa?”

Jordan glanced back at him, peering closely for any sign of pity. If it was pity, he’d be back out the door before he could blink.

He smiled and sat down on her big overstuffed chair, setting the package to one side and patting his lap. “On second thought, why don’t you come sit here, young lady, and tell me what you want Santa to bring you?”

“Santa as a dirty old man. Now, that’s more my style.”

Will shook his head, his gaze never leaving hers. “No, Jordan. It isn’t. Now, come here and let me give you your present.” He held out a hand in welcome.

She felt suddenly shy. “No eggnog first?”

“Not yet. I’m halfway to melting in this outfit.”

More eager than she wanted to admit, Jordan approached. She had no idea what could be in the box, but she couldn’t resist the unexpected treat. “But I don’t have a present for you.”

“A little elf delivered one to my back door.”

“That was a housewarming gift. Did you—never mind.” If he hated it she didn’t want to know.

His gloved hand turned her face to him. “’Tis a beautiful window, Jordan. Perfect.”

“So why—” She clamped her mouth shut.

“I needed to think,” he said. “And I had something to finish. This is not the night to argue, sweet. This night all the world brims with love. We’ll speak more of the window, but for now, end the debate and let me see your face when you open this.”

At that moment, the child inside her that Jordan had long thought dead chose to make its appearance. Though she knew it was Will in the costume, that little girl wanted to sit on his lap and open the present, one she hadn’t anticipated, hadn’t begged to receive. A gift, in the purest sense of the word.

She pulled the box to her as she settled on his lap, feeling unaccountably shy but also supremely protected. Even more than she wanted to open the gift, she longed to cuddle against him, to lean her head on his shoulder and be a different Jordan than the world saw every day.

Nonsense.
She hugged the package to her as solemn blue eyes studied hers. “Am I too heavy?”

“Not a bit. I’m thinking I could be happy like this for a long while.”

Inside Jordan something eased, uncoiling when she hadn’t even known she was tightly wound. “We’re so different.”

“Yes.” He nodded, his smile solemn. “That’s us, sweet heart.
The Odd Couple.
”

But she didn’t have a sassy comeback this time. “Are we? A couple?”

His gaze never left hers. “I’m thinking yes.”

“But why, Will? I’m—”

“Shhh,” he whispered, placing one gloved finger across her lips. “’Tis useless to wonder the why of it, sweetheart. I’ll gladly speak with you for hours of what I love about you, but it isn’t your head you must be heeding—it’s your heart that needs to be heard.”

Love.
No. “I don’t let my heart call the shots, and you shouldn’t either. You barely know me.”

“Ah, but you, my stubborn sweetheart, cannot tell my heart whom to adore.” He bounced her gently. “Now, will you open this present before I expire from the heat?”

“Sorry.” She was surprised to feel reluctant. Once she started opening the wrapping, it would soon be over, this special surprise. “Maybe I’ll wait until tomorrow, after all.”

He shrugged. “You may wait…but I’ll not be leaving until I see your face.” He stretched and yawned. “Best be getting the sofa ready, Jordan darlin’. It’s been a long day.” But his smile was wide as if he was certain she’d crack.

She hugged it once more. “Thank you, Will. This is a wonderful surprise.”

“As was my window.” Pleasure beamed from his face. “I hope you like what’s inside as much.”

For the first time, she understood that he was nervous, and somehow that settled her. She began to open it carefully.

“Hmm. I always pictured you tearing into packages, ripping paper with abandon.”

She shot him a glance, then grinned. “Oh, what the hell—you’re right.” She reverted to type and tore at the wrapping, eager to get inside.

Once she did, her heart stuttered. Lifting out the most exquisite wooden jewelry box she’d ever seen, Jordan gasped. “Oh, Will—this is beautiful.” She pushed the wrappings aside and settled the gift on her lap, running her fingers over the silky-smooth edges, the tiny golden hinges, the beautiful carving of a Celtic design with her name worked inside the coils.