Trading Christmas (14 page)

“A
lone at last,” Ray muttered as he shut the condo door. He'd walked his mother outside and waited with her until the taxi arrived to take her to the Four Seasons Hotel.

“Ray!” Emily said. “Your mother is hilarious.”

“Believe me, I know. She's also meddling and demanding.”

“But she loves you and worries about you.”

“I should be worrying about
her,
” Ray said. “I can't believe she'd fly here without telling me.”

“She tried,” Emily reminded him. “If I remember correctly, she left four messages, none of which you returned.”

Ray looked up at the ceiling and rolled his eyes. “Guilty as charged.”

“She does have impeccable timing, though, doesn't she?” Emily doubted she'd ever forget the expression on Bernice's face when Emily appeared at the front door with a lobster attached to her pant leg. The Pomeranian had started barking like crazy, and pandemonium had immediately broken out. Bernice wanted answers and Emily wanted the lobster off
her leg and the dog had taken an immediate dislike to both the lobster and Emily. FiFi had leaped out of Bernice's arms, grabbing hold of Emily's other pant leg, and she was caught in a tug-of-war between the lobster and the lapdog.

Everything eventually got sorted out, but until Ray was able to rescue Emily and assure his mother that all was well, it had been a complete and total circus.

“This isn't the way I intended to spend Christmas Eve,” Ray said.

“It was wonderful,” Emily told him. His mother had known exactly what to do with the lobsters and she'd taken over in the kitchen, issuing orders and expecting them to be obeyed. Ray and Emily had happily complied. That evening, the three of them had feasted on the lobsters and a huge Caesar salad.

After dinner, they'd gathered in front of the fireplace, sipping wine and listening to Christmas music, and Bernice had delighted Emily with tales of her two sons growing up. Emily had enjoyed the evening immensely. And while he might complain, Ray seemed to take pleasure in their visit with his mother, too.

“She insists on taking us out for Christmas dinner,” Ray said.

“That would be lovely.”

“I'll bet you've never eaten at a hotel on Christmas Day in your life.”

“True, but nothing about this Christmas is normal.”

Ray walked over to where she stood by the tree. “Do you mind sharing the day with my mother and me?”

Emily smiled. “I consider myself fortunate to be with you both.” She was sorry she couldn't be with her daughter, but she'd come a long way since Heather had announced she wouldn't be flying home for the holidays. She was far more
prepared to accept Heather's independence, for one thing; it was a natural, healthy process and it was going to happen anyway, so she saw no point in fighting it.

“You're right, this isn't the Christmas Eve I expected,” she added, “but I've had such a fabulous time in Boston and I owe it all to you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he whispered, drawing her into his arms. His kisses were gentle but thorough, coaxing and sensual. Emily's knees were weak by the time he released her.

“I have something for you,” he said, stroking her arms. He seemed unable to stop touching her, and Emily was equally loath to break away from him.

“I have something for you, too,” she told him.

“Me first.”

“Okay.” They separated and went to their respective bedrooms to retrieve their gifts. A few minutes later, as they sat beneath the Christmas tree, he handed her a small beribboned box. Emily stared at the beautifully wrapped present and then at Ray.

“Open it,” he urged.

Her pulse going wild, she tore away the red satin bow and the wrapping paper. The jeweler's box surprised her. This looked expensive.

“Ray?” Her eyes flew up to meet his.

“Open it,” he said again.

Slowly, Emily lifted the lid and swallowed a gasp. Inside was a cameo, about the size of a silver dollar.

“It's on a chain,” Ray said.

“I love cameos,” she whispered, and wondered how he could possibly have known. “Did I mention that?” She had two precious cameos that were among her most treasured possessions. The first had belonged to her grandmother and
the second, a small one about the size of a dime, held an even deeper significance. Peter had given it to her on their fifth wedding anniversary. Now she had a third.

“I didn't know, but I saw this one and somehow I was sure you'd like it.”

“Oh, Ray, I do. Thank you so much.”

He helped her remove it from its plush bed. Emily turned her back to him and lifted her hair so he could connect the chain. This cameo was the most perfect gift he could possibly have given her. The fact that he'd sensed, after such a short acquaintance, how much it would appeal to her, was truly touching.

“This is for you,” she said shyly, handing him her present. The day before, they'd strolled past an antique store that specialized in rare books. That morning, she'd gone inside to investigate and discovered a first edition of the science-fiction classic
Dune
by Frank Herbert. It was autographed, and because this was Christmas Eve, she'd been able to talk the dealer down to a reasonable price.

In one of their many conversations, Ray had said that he'd enjoyed science fiction as a teenager. She watched as he eagerly ripped off the paper. When he saw the novel, his eyes grew wide.

“It's autographed,” she told him, smiling.

Ray's mouth sagged open. “I loved
Dune
as a kid. I read it so many times the pages fell out.”

Reverently he opened the book. “How did you know?” The whispered question revealed his own astonishment that she could find him such a fitting gift.

“I listened.”

“You listened with your heart.” His fingertips grazed her cheek as his eyes held hers. Slowly he glided his hand around
the nape of her neck and brought her closer to thank her with a kiss.

Emily opened her lips to his. Their kisses were warm, moist, each more intense than the one before. Ray leaned back, gazing at her for several breath-stopping moments. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her hard against him.

“Ray?”

He answered her with another kiss, and any sensible thoughts she might have had vanished the moment his lips met hers. He lowered her to the carpet, leaning over her.

Emily slid her arms around his neck. Excitement tingled through her, and passion—so long dormant, so deeply buried—came to life.

Ray's hand cupped her breast and she gasped with pleasure. She was afraid and excited at the same time. He began to unfasten her blouse and when she saw that his fingers trembled, she gently brushed them aside and unbuttoned it herself. Just as she reached the last button, there was a knock at the door.

Ray looked at her. Startled, Emily looked at him.

“Your mother?” she asked.

He shrugged and got to his feet. “I doubt it.” He walked across the room. “Whoever it is, I'll get rid of them.” From her vantage point, she couldn't see the door, but she could hear him open it.

Emily waited. At first nothing happened, and then she heard Heather's shocked voice.

“Who are you?”

“Ray Brewster. And you are?”

Heather sidestepped Ray and walked into the condo. Emily quickly bunched her blouse together and stared up at her daughter's horrified expression.

“Mother?” Heather screeched.

Emily was sure her face was as red as the lobster she'd had for dinner that very night.

W
hen Faith woke on Christmas morning, it was snowing, just as she'd hoped. Tossing aside the covers, she leaped out of bed, thrust both arms into her housecoat and bounded down the stairs. Happiness bubbled up inside her—it was Christmas Day!

From their short time together, Faith knew Charles wasn't a morning person, but she couldn't bear to let him sleep in on a morning as special as this.

After putting on the coffee and waiting impatiently for enough of it to filter through to fill a cup, she swiftly removed the pot and stuck the mug directly under the drip. Then, coffee in hand, she walked down the hallway to the room in which Charles slept.

Knocking at the door, she called, “Wake up, it's Christmas! You can't escape me this morning.”

She could hear him grumbling.

“Charles, it's snowing! Come on, get up now.”

“What time is it, anyway?”

“Seven-thirty. I have coffee for you. If you want, I can bring it in.”

“Do I have a choice?”

She laughed and admitted that he really didn't. If he chose to sleep longer, she'd simply rattle around the kitchen making lots of noise until he got up.

“All right, all right, come in.”

He didn't sound too pleased, but Faith didn't care. When she creaked open the door, she discovered Charles sitting up in bed. His hair was disheveled and a book had fallen onto the floor.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, handing him the coffee.

His stare was blank until he took his first sip. “Ahh,” he breathed appreciatively. Then he gave her an absent grin. “Merry Christmas, Faith. Did Santa arrive?”

“Oh…I didn't think to look.”

“Let me finish my coffee and shower, and then I'll take a peek under the tree with you.”

“You're on,” she said and backed out of the room before she could do something silly and completely out of character—like throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. With the two of them alone in Emily's cozy house, the atmosphere had become more and more intimate….

A half hour later, Faith had dressed and was frying bacon for their breakfast when Charles appeared. He wore a dress shirt and sweater vest.

“Merry Christmas!” he said again.

“You, too.” She made an effort not to look at him for fear she'd be too easily distracted.

“So, did you check under the tree?” Charles asked.

“Not yet.” She slid the bacon onto the platter and wiped her hands.

“You look very nice,” Charles said. “I generally don't notice
much of anything before ten. I don't know if it's the day or if it's you.” His comment was as casual as if he were discussing the weather.

“Me?” she whispered.

“You're an attractive woman.” He cleared his throat. “Very attractive.”

“Oh.”

“It's true.”

Flustered now, she offered him a tentative smile. “Breakfast is ready.” She carried the crisp bacon over to the kitchen table, which she'd already set using a poinsettia-covered tablecloth. The juice was poured and the toast made; scrambled eggs were heaped in a dish. A quiche lorraine sat in the center of the table. And she'd brewed fresh coffee, the aroma pervading the room. She'd prepared far more than the two of them could possibly eat, but she supposed the quiche would make a nice lunch tomorrow.

“I'm so glad it's snowing,” she said excitedly.

“Why wouldn't it snow today? It's snowed every day since I got here.”

“Not true,” she countered, but then admitted he was right. It
had
snowed every day at some point. Watching the thick white flakes drifting down was a holiday ideal. She felt like a child again.

“Oh, my,” she said, unaware that she'd spoken aloud.

“What?”

Faith shook her head, not wanting to answer. She realized that she'd forgotten what it felt like to be happy. It was as though a fog had lifted and the world had become newly vivid, the colors clear and pure. Her gaze flew across the table and she looked at Charles. She knew immediately that he was responsible for her change of attitude. Spending these days with him had opened her to the joy of the season and the promise
of love. The divorce had robbed her of so much, shredded her self-confidence, undercut trust and faith and made her doubt herself. It had taken her a long time to deal with the loss, but she was stronger now. She could expect good things in her life. She could anticipate happiness.

“Faith?” he asked with a quizzical expression. “What is it?”

She glanced quickly away and dismissed his question with another shake of her head. “Nothing important.”

“Then tell me.”

She smiled. “I was just thinking how happy I am to be here, having breakfast with you on Christmas morning.”

Charles let the comment rest between them for a long moment. “With me?”

She giggled because he sounded so shocked. “Yes, Charles, with you. Is that so strange?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I'm not accustomed to anyone enjoying my company.”

“Well, I do.” She reached for an extra strip of bacon to create a distraction for herself.

Charles set his fork aside and sat back in his chair, staring across the table as if she'd taken his breath away.

Faith grew uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “What is it?” she demanded.

He grinned. “I was just thinking that I could love you.”

“Charles!”

“This isn't a joke—I'm completely sincere. I'm halfway in love with you already. But I know what you're going to say.”

“I'm sure you don't.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “You're thinking it's much too soon and I couldn't possibly know my feelings yet. Two weeks from now, our encounter will be just a memory.”

That
was
what she was thinking, although Faith badly
wanted to stay in touch with Charles once they parted. But there was more to her reaction than that.

“I'm just so happy,” she said, “and I realized I haven't been in a long time.”

“Happy with me?”

She nodded.

“Could we…you know, call each other after the holidays?” He seemed almost afraid of her response.

“I'd like that.”

His eyes sparkled with undisguised pleasure. “I was recently approached by Berkeley about a teaching position,” he confided. “Is that anywhere close to you?”

“It's very close.”

He took in that information with a slight nod. “Good. That's good.”

The doorbell chimed, and Faith dropped her napkin on the table, rising to her feet. “I'll get it.” She suspected it was one or more of the Kennedy kids, coming to thank Charles for the gifts. She wondered what he'd bought her; from all the hints he'd been dropping, she suspected it was something special. She'd found a small antique paperweight for him, and that, too, was under the tree.

When she opened the door, it wasn't the Kennedy kids she saw. Instead, there stood Sam with the six dwarfs crowding around him. The dwarfs looked as if all they needed was a word of encouragement before rushing inside and attacking Charles en masse.

“Sam!” she cried and was instantly crushed in a big hug.

“We came to check up on you,” Tony said, peering inside the house.

“Yes,” Allen added. “We wanted to make sure Scrooge was good to you.”

“Everything's fine,” she assured her friends, bringing them
into the house—and bringing them up to date. By that time, Charles had joined them in the living room.

Santa's elves peered up at him suspiciously.

Tony took a step closer. “She said you've had an attitude adjustment. Is that true?”

Charles nodded, a solemn expression on his face. “Faith won me over.”

Sam chuckled. “We thought we'd give you a ride back to Seattle, Faith, so you can catch your flight tomorrow afternoon.”

“I'll drive her.” Charles moved to her side, placing his arm around her shoulders.

“We're just finishing breakfast but there's plenty if you haven't eaten.”

“We haven't,” Sam said promptly, and the seven of them rushed into the kitchen.

“Can you stay for dinner?” Charles asked, surprising Faith with the invitation.

“No, no, we don't want to intrude. Besides, we have to head out soon for flights of our own. The only reason we came was to make sure everything was all right with Faith.”

“I'm having a wonderful Christmas,” Faith told her friends.

And I'm going to have a wonderful life.