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Two

Until Carol spoke, she hadn’t known how much she wanted Steve to spend Christmas Day with her—and not for the reasons she’d been plotting. She sincerely missed Steve. He’d been both lover and friend, and now he was neither; the sense of loss was nearly overwhelming.

He continued to stare at her, and regret worked its way across his features. The success of her plan hinged on his response and she waited, almost afraid to breathe, for his answer.

“Carol, listen …” He paused and ran his hand along the back of his neck, his brow puckered with a condensed frown.

Carol knew him well enough to realize he was carefully composing his thoughts. She was also aware that he was going to refuse her! She knew it as clearly as if he’d spoken the words aloud. She swallowed the hurt, although she couldn’t keep her eyes from widening with pain. When Steve had presented her with the divorce papers, Carol had promised herself she would never give him the power to hurt her again. Yet here she was, handing him the knife and exposing her soul.

She could feel her heart thumping wildly in her chest and fought to control the emotions that swamped her. “Is it so much to ask?” she whispered, and the words fell broken from her lips.

“I’ve got the watch.”

“On Christmas …” She hadn’t expected that, hadn’t figured it into the scheme of things. In other words, the excuse of Christmas wasn’t going to work. Ultimately her strategy would fail, and she would end up spending the holiday alone.

“I’d do it if I could,” Steve told her in a straightforward manner that convinced her he was telling the truth. She felt somewhat less disappointed.

“Thank you for that,” she said, and reached out to touch his hand, in a small gesture of appreciation. Amazingly he didn’t draw away from her, which gave her renewed hope.

A reluctant silence stretched between them. There’d been a time when they couldn’t say enough to each other, and now there was nothing.

“I suppose I’d better get back.” Steve spoke first.

“Me, too,” she answered brightly, perhaps a little too brightly. “It was good to see you again … you’re looking well.”

“You, too.” He took a couple of steps backward, but still hadn’t turned away. Swallowing down her disappointment, Carol retrieved the car keys from the bottom of her purse and turned to climb into her Honda. It dawned on her then, hit her square between the eyes. If not Christmas Day then …

“Steve,” she whirled back around, her eyes flashing.

“Carol.” He called her name at the same moment.

They laughed and the sound fell rusty and awkward between them.

“You first,” he said, and gestured toward her. The corner of his mouth was curved upward in a half smile.

“What about Christmas Eve?”

He nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Carol felt the excitement bubble up inside her like fizz in a club soda. A grin broke out across her face as she realized nothing had been lost and everything was yet to be gained. Somewhere in the distance, Carol was sure she could hear the soft, lilting strains of a Brahms lullaby. “Could you come early enough for dinner?”

Again, he nodded. “Six?”

“Perfect. I’ll look forward to it.”

“I will, too.”

He turned and walked away from her then, and it was all Carol could do to keep from doing a war dance, jumping up and down around the car. Instead she rubbed her bare hands together as though the friction would ease some of the excitement she was feeling. Steve hadn’t a clue how memorable this one night would be. Not a clue!

* * *

“Your mood has certainly improved lately,” Lindy commented as Steve walked into the kitchen whistling a lively Christmas carol.

His sister’s words stopped him. “My mood has?”

“You’ve been downright chipper all week.” He shrugged his shoulders, hoping the action would discount his cheerful attitude. “‘Tis the season.”

“I don’t suppose your meeting with Carol has anything to do with it?”

His sister eyed him skeptically, seeking his confidence, but Steve wasn’t going to give it. This dinner with his ex-wife was simply the meeting of two lonely people struggling to make it through the holidays. Nothing less and certainly nothing more. Although he’d been looking for Carol to deny that she was involved with Todd, she hadn’t. Steve considered her refusal to talk about the other man as good as an admission of guilt. That bastard had left her alone for Christmas two years running.

If Lindy was right and his mood had improved, Steve decided, it was simply because he was going to be out of his sister’s and Rush’s hair for the evening; the newlyweds could spend their first Christmas Eve together without a third party butting in.

Steve reached for his coat, and Lindy turned around, her dark eyes wide with surprise. “You’re leaving.”

Steve nodded, buttoning the thick wool jacket.

“But … it’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know.” He tucked the box of candy under his arm and lifted the bright red poinsettia he’d purchased on impulse earlier in the day.

“Where are you going?”

Steve would have liked to say a friend’s house, but that wouldn’t be true. He didn’t know how to classify his relationship with Carol. Not a friend. Not a lover. More than an acquaintance, less than a wife.

“You’re going to Carol’s, aren’t you?” Lindy prompted.

The last thing Steve wanted was his sister to get the wrong impression about this evening with Carol, because that’s all there was going to be. “It’s not what you think.”

Lindy raised her hands in mock consternation. “I’m not thinking a single thing, except that it’s good to see you smile again.”

Steve’s frown was heavy with purpose. “Well, don’t read more into it than there is.”

“Are the two of you going to talk?” Lindy asked, and her dark eyes fairly danced with deviltry.

“We’re going to eat, not talk,” Steve explained with limited patience. “We don’t have anything in common anymore. I’ll probably be home before ten.”

“Whatever you say,” Lindy answered, but her lips twitched with the effort to suppress a knowing smile. “Have a good time.”

Steve chose not to answer that comment and left the apartment, but as soon as he was outside, he discovered he was whistling again and stopped abruptly.

* * *

Carol slipped the compact disk into the player and set the volume knob so that the soft Christmas music swirled festively through the house. A small turkey was roasting in the oven, stuffed with Steve’s favorite sage dressing. Two pies were cooling on the kitchen counter—pumpkin for Steve, mincemeat for her. To be on the safe side a sweet-potato-pecan pie was in the fridge.

Carol chose a red silk dress that whispered enticingly against her soft skin. Her makeup and perfume had been applied with a subtle hand. Everything was ready.

Well, almost everything.

She and Steve were two different people now, and there was no getting around the fact. Regretting the past was an exercise in futility, and yet Carol had been overwhelmed these past few days with the realization that the divorce had been wrong. Very wrong. All the emotion she’d managed to bury this past year had seeped to the surface since her meeting with Steve and she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more confused.

She wanted a child, and she was using her ex-husband. More than once in the past week, she’d been forced to deal with twinges of guilt. But there was no going back. It would be impossible to recapture what had been between them before the divorce. There could be no reconciliation. Even more difficult than the past, Carol had trouble dealing with the present. They couldn’t come in contact with each other without the sparks igniting. It made everything more difficult. They were both too stubborn, too temperamental, too obstinate.

And it was ruining their lives.

Carol felt they couldn’t go back and yet they couldn’t step forward, either. The idea of seducing Steve and getting pregnant had, in the beginning, been entirely selfish. She wanted a baby and she considered Steve the best candidate … the only candidate. After their one short meeting at the restaurant, Carol knew her choice of the baby’s father went far beyond the practical. A part of her continued to love Steve, and probably always would. She wanted his child because it was the only part of him she would ever be able to have.

Everything hinged on the outcome of this dinner. Carol pressed her hands over her flat stomach and issued a fervent prayer that she was fertile. Twice in the past hour she’d taken her temperature, praying her body would do its part in this master plan. Her temperature was slightly elevated, but that could be caused by the hot sensation that went through her at the thought of sharing a bed with Steve again. Or it could be sheer nerves.

All day she’d been feeling anxious and restless with anticipation. She was convinced Steve would take one look at her and instantly know she intended for him to spend the night. The crux of her scheme was for Steve to think their making love was his idea. Again and again, her plans for the evening circled her mind, slowly, like the churning blades of a windmill stirring the air.

The doorbell chimed, and inhaling a calming breath, Carol forced a smile, walked across the room and opened the door for her ex-husband. “Merry Christmas,” she said softly.

Steve handed her the poinsettia as though he couldn’t get rid of the flower fast enough. His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding looking at her, which pleased Carol because it told her that the red dress was having exactly the effect she’d hoped for.

“Thank you for the flower,” she said and set it in the middle of the coffee table. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I remembered how you used to buy three and four of those silly things each year and figured one more couldn’t hurt.”

“It was thoughtful of you, and I appreciate it.” She held out her hand to take his coat.

Steve placed a small package under the tree and gave her a shy look. “Frangos,” he explained awkwardly. “I suppose they’re still your favorite candy.”

“Yes. I have a little something for you, too.”

Steve peeled off his heavy jacket and handed it to her. “I’m not looking for any gifts from you. I brought the flowers and candy because I wanted to contribute something toward dinner.”

“My gift isn’t much, Steve.”

“Save it for someone else. Okay?”

Her temper nearly slipped then, but Carol managed to keep it intact. Her smile was just a little more forced when she turned from hanging his jacket in the hall closet, but she hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Would you like a hot-buttered rum before we eat?” she offered.

“That sounds good.”

He followed her into the kitchen and brought the bottle of rum down from the top cupboard while she put water on to boil.

“When did you cut your hair?” he asked unexpectedly.

Absently Carol’s fingers touched the straight, thick strands that crowded the side of her head. “Several months ago now.”

“I liked it better when you wore it longer.” Gritting her teeth, she managed to bite back the words to inform him that she styled her hair to suit herself these days, not him.

* * *

Steve saw the flash of irritation in his ex-wife’s eyes and felt a little better. The comment about her hair wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear; she’d been waiting for him to tell her how beautiful she looked. The problem was, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her from the moment he entered the house. The wisecrack was a result of one flirtatious curl of blond hair that swayed when she moved. He hadn’t been able to look past that single golden lock. Neither could he stop staring at the shape of her lips nor the curve of her chin, nor the appealing color of her china blue eyes. When he’d met her at Denny’s the other night he’d been on the defensive, waiting for her to drop her bombshell. All his protective walls were lowered now. He would have liked to blame it on the Christmas holidays, but he realized it was more than that, and what he saw gave him cause to tremble. Carol was as sensuous and appealing to him as she’d always been. Perhaps more so.

Already he knew what was going to happen. They would spend half the evening verbally circling each other in an anxious search for common ground. But there wasn’t one for them … not anymore. Tonight was an evening out of sequence, and when it had passed they would return to their respective lives.

When Carol finished mixing their drinks, they wandered into the living room and talked. The alcohol seemed to alleviate some of the tension. Steve filled the silence with details of what had been happening in Lindy’s life and in his career.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” Carol admitted, and there was a spark of pride in her eyes that warmed him.

Steve didn’t inquire about her career because it would involve asking about Todd, and the man was a subject he’d sworn he would avoid at all costs. Carol didn’t volunteer any information, either. She knew the unwritten ground rules.

A half hour later, Steve helped her carry their meal to the table.

“You must have been cooking all day.”

She grinned and nodded. “It gave me something to do.”

The table was loaded with sliced turkey, creamy potatoes, giblet gravy, stuffing, fresh broccoli, sweet potatoes and fruit salad.

Carol asked him to light the candles and when Steve had, they sat down to eat. Sitting directly across the table from her, Steve found he was mesmerized by her mouth as she ate. With all his might he tried to remember the reasons he’d divorced Carol. Good God, she was captivating—too damn good to look at for his own peace of mind. Her hands moved gracefully, raising the fork from her plate to her mouth in motions as elegant as those of a symphony director. He shouldn’t be enjoying watching her this much, and he realized he would pay the price later when he returned to the apartment and the loneliness overtook him once more.

When he’d finished the meal, he leaned against the shield-back dining-room chair and placed his hands over his stomach. “I can’t remember when I’ve had a better dinner.”

“There’s pie …”

“Not now,” he countered quickly and shook his head. “I’m too full to down another bite. Maybe later.”

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

Carol carried their dishes to the sink, stuck the leftovers in the refrigerator, and returned with the glass coffeepot. She filled both their cups, returned it to the kitchen and then took her seat opposite him. She rested her elbows on the table, and smiled.

Despite his best intentions through a good portion of the meal, Steve hadn’t been able to keep his eyes away from her. The way she was sitting—leaning forward, her elbows on the tabletop—caused her breasts to push together and more than amply fill the bodice of her dress. His breath faltered someplace between his lungs and his throat at the alluring sight she made. He could have sworn she wasn’t wearing a bra. Carol had fantastic breasts and Steve watched, captivated, as their tips beaded against the shiny material. They seemed to be pointing directly at him, issuing a silent invitation that asked him to fondle and taste them. Against his will, his groin began to swell until he was throbbing with painful need. Disconcerted, he dropped his gaze to the steaming cup of coffee. With his hands shaking, he took a sip of his coffee and nearly scalded the tender skin inside his mouth.

“That was an excellent dinner,” he repeated, after a moment of silence.

“You’re not sorry you came, are you?” she asked unexpectedly, studying him. The intent look that crowded her face demanded all Steve’s attention. Her skin was pale and creamy in the muted light, her eyes wide and inquiring, as though the answer to her question was of the utmost importance.

“No,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’m glad I’m here.”

His answer pleased her and she smiled, looking tender and trusting, and Steve wondered how he could ever have doubted her. He knew what she’d done—knew that she’d purposely destroyed their marriage—and in that moment, it didn’t matter. He wanted her again. He wanted to hold her warm and willing body in his arms. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside her that she would never desire another man for as long as they both lived.

“I’ll help you with the dishes,” he said, and rose so abruptly that he nearly knocked over the chair.

“I’ll do them later.” She got to her feet as well. “But if you want to do something, I’d appreciate a little help with the tree.”

“The tree?” The words sounded as foreign as an obscure language.

“Yes, it’s only half decorated. I couldn’t reach the tallest limbs. Will you help?”

He shrugged. “Sure.” He could have sworn that Carol was relieved, and he couldn’t imagine why. The Christmas tree looked fine to him. There were a few bare spots, but nothing too noticeable.

Carol dragged a dining-room chair into the living room and pulled a box of ornaments out from underneath the end table.

“You’re knitting?” Steve asked, hiding a smile as his gaze fell on the strands of worsted yarn. Carol had to be the worst knitter in the world, yet she tackled one project after another, seeming oblivious of any lack of talent. There had been a time when he could tease her about it, but he wasn’t sure his insight would be appreciated now.

She glanced away as though she feared his comment.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tease you,” he told her, remembering the time she’d proudly presented him with a sweater she’d made herself—the left sleeve had been five inches longer than the right. He’d tried it on and she’d taken one look at him and burst into tears. It was one of the few times he could ever remember Carol crying.

Carol dragged the chair next to the tree and raised her leg to stand on it.

Steve stopped her. “I thought you wanted me to do that?”

“No, I need you to hand me the ornaments and then stand back and tell me how they look.”

“Carol … if I placed the ornaments on the tree, you wouldn’t need the chair.”

She looked at him and sighed. “I’d rather do it. You don’t mind, do you?”

He didn’t know why she was so determined to hang the decorations herself, but it didn’t make much difference to him. “No, if you want to risk your fool neck, feel free.”

She grinned and raised herself so that she was standing on the padded cushion of the chair. “Okay, hand me one,” she said, tossing him a look over her shoulder.

Steve gave her a shiny glass bulb, and he noted how good she smelled. Roses and some other scent he couldn’t define wrapped gently around him. Carol stretched out her arms and reached for the tallest branch. Her dress rose a solid five inches and exposed the back of her creamy smooth thighs and a fleeting glimpse of the sweet curve of her buttocks. Steve knotted his hands into fists at his sides to keep from touching her. It would be entirely plausible for him to grip her waist and claim he was frightened she would tumble from her perch. But if he allowed that to happen, his hands would slip and soon he would be cupping that cute rounded bottom. Once he touched her, Steve knew he would never be able to stop. He clenched his teeth and inhaled deeply through his nose. Having Carol standing there, exposing herself in this unconscious way, was more than a mere man could resist. At this point, he was willing to use any excuse to be close to her once more.

Carol lowered her arms, her dress fell back into place and Steve breathed normally again. He thought he was safe from further temptation until she twisted around. Her ripe, full breasts filled the front of her dress, their shape clearly defined against the thin fabric. If he’d been guessing about the bra before, he was now certain. She wasn’t wearing one.

“I’m ready for another ornament,” she said softly.

Like a blind man, Steve turned and fumbled for a second glass bulb. He handed it to her and did everything within his power to keep his gaze away from her breasts.

“How does that one look?” Carol asked.

“Fine,” Steve answered gruffly.

“Steve?”

“Don’t you think that’s enough decorations, for God’s sake?”

His harsh tone was as much a surprise to him as it obviously was to Carol.

“Yes, of course.”

She sounded disappointed, but that couldn’t be helped. Steve moved to her side once more and offered her his hand to help her down. His foot must have hit against one leg of the chair because it jerked forward. Perhaps it was something she did, Steve wasn’t sure, but whatever happened caused the chair to teeter on the thick carpet.

With a small cry of alarm, Carol threw out her arms.

With reflexes born of years of military training, Steve’s hands shot out like bullets to catch her. The chair fell sideways onto the floor, but Steve’s grip on Carol’s waist anchored her firmly against his torso. Their breathing was labored, and Steve sighed with relief that she hadn’t fallen. It was on the tip of his tongue to berate her, call her a silly goose for not letting him place the glass bulbs on the tree, chastise her for being such a fool. She shouldn’t put herself at risk over something as nonsensical as a Christmas tree. But none of the words made it to his lips.

Their gazes were even, her haunting eyes stared into his and said his name as clearly as if it were spoken. Carol’s feet remained several inches off the floor, and still Steve held on to her, unable to release her. His heart was pounding frantically with wonder as he raised a finger and touched her soft throat. His gaze continued to delve into hers. He wanted to set her back on the carpet, to free them both from this invisible grip before it maimed them, but he couldn’t seem to find the strength to let her go.

Slowly she slid down his front, between his braced feet, crimping the skirt of her dress between them. Once she was secure, he noted that her lower abdomen was tucked snugly in the joint between his thighs. The throbbing in his groin began again, and he held in a groan that threatened to emanate from deep within his chest.

He longed to kiss her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, and only the greatest strength of will kept him from claiming her sweet mouth with his own.

She’d betrayed him once, crippled him with her deceit. Steve had sworn he would never allow her to use him again, yet his arguments burned away like dry timber in a forest fire.

His thumb found her moist lips and brushed back and forth as though the action would be enough to satisfy either of them. It didn’t. If anything, it created an agony even more powerful. His heart leaped into a hard, fast rhythm that made him feel breathless and weak. Before he could stop himself, his finger lifted her chin and his mouth glided over hers. Softly. Moistly. Satin against satin.

Carol sighed.

Steve groaned.

She weakened in his arms and closed her eyes. Steve kissed her a second time and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, his need so strong it threatened to consume him. His hand was drawn to her breast, as if caught by a vise and carried there against his will. He cupped the rounded flesh, and his finger teased the nipple until it beaded and swelled against his palm. Carol whimpered.

He had to touch her breasts again. Had to know for himself their velvet smoothness. Releasing a ragged sigh, he reached behind her and peeled down her zipper. She was as eager as he when he lowered the top of her dress and exposed her naked front.

Her hands were around his neck, and she slanted her mouth over his, rising to her tiptoes as she leaned her weight into his. Steve’s mouth quickly abandoned hers to explore the curve of her neck and then lower to the rosy tips of her firm, proud breasts. His moist tongue traced circles around the pebbled nipples until Carol shuddered and plowed her fingers through his hair.

“Steve … oh, I’ve missed you so much.” She repeated the sentence over and over again, but the words didn’t register in his clouded mind. When they did, he went cold. She may have missed him, may have hungered for his touch, but she hadn’t been faithful. The thought crippled him, and he went utterly still.

Carol must have sensed his withdrawal, because she dropped her arms. Her shoulders were heaving as though she’d been running in a heated race. His own breathing wasn’t any more regular.

Abruptly Steve released her and stumbled two paces back.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” he announced in a hoarse whisper.

Carol regarded him with a wounded look but said nothing.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” he said, expelling the words on the tail end of a sigh.

Carol’s gaze widened and she shook her head.

“Carol, we aren’t married anymore. This shouldn’t be happening.”

“I know.” She lowered her gaze to the carpet.

Steve walked to the hall closet and reached for his jacket. His actions felt as if they were in slow motion—as if every gravitational force in the universe was pulling at him.

He paused, his hand clenching the doorknob. “Thank you for dinner.”

Carol nodded, and when he turned back, he saw that her eyes had filled with tears and she was biting her bottom lip to hold them back. One hand held the front of her dress across her bare breasts.

“Carol …”

She looked at him with soft, appealing eyes and held out her hand. “Don’t go,” she begged softly. “Please don’t leave me. I need you so much.”