The House On The Creek (26 page)

“He does his job well,” Everett interrupted pleasantly.

“Yes, sure.” She made a sound of indignation. “You saw the basement. The pool table and the roulette and darts.”

“Perfect.” He broke a needle from the tree and rubbed it between his fingers. “I suppose I’ll have to sleep upstairs. In a real bed.” In the carved antique four poster he knew she loved. Between white linen sheets that somehow carried her scent.

He knew that, if he ever managed to close his eyes in that bed and sleep, he would dream of her.

“I guess so. Is that a problem?”

“No. I think, at last, I’ve outgrown the basement.” He smiled wryly at the needle in his hand.

“The fridge is stocked, of course. With enough munchies to keep you happy. The caterers will start carting in the non perishables tomorrow. The rest will be ready by Tuesday.”

“Perfect,” he repeated. “What about the presents under the tree in my bedroom?”

Her eyes widened slightly, but her expression remained professional. “From Chris and I. Just little things.”

His pulse jumped. “That was kind.”

“Chris’s idea.”

“Of course. They’re beautifully wrapped, all of them. Service?”

“No.” As he watched she wet her lips. “Turns out I’m handy with a bow.”

“I like the ones on the trees.” Casually, he crossed the new blue and green Oriental rug, and stretched his fingers to the fire.

“Thank you.”

“And the strands of pearls and the little stars.”

Her cheeks were pink, whether from the heat of the flames or the press of his body. Experimenting, he edged closer.

“Thank you,” she said, again, staring hard at something past his left shoulder.

“Abby.” He took her gently by the elbows and made her look at him. She didn’t flinch, only gazed up at his face, lips parted on a silent question.

“I love it,” he said. “Every bit of it. It’s perfect. More perfect than I could have imagined.”

“Perfect,” she echoed, and the corners of her mouth curled slowly upwards. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

“You succeeded. I’m struck unusually speechless.” And because he found her subdued animation just as unusual he dared to steal her hand and tuck it against his forearm. “You’re rather quiet. Ever since you chased me into the car at the airport I’ve heard hardly a word. Everything all right?”

“I was worried.” He felt her breath on his collarbone. His fingers tightened around her own. “I don’t usually get worried. This time I was. I wanted you to like it.”

“And I do. I knew you’d make me something wonderful, but I had no idea...” He trailed off, and gratefully inhaled the perfume of her body. “Abby.” He had missed her so much in the end he’d feared he would go mad.

She stiffened, and then slipped from his side. “I need to be going, Ev. I promised Chris I’d help him with his homework.”

Everett gripped his fingers behind his back to keep from reaching for her again. Hell. How had he managed to forget that the simple smell of her sent lust coursing through his veins?

“I’d hoped maybe he’d be at the airport.” He sounded gruff even to his own ears.

Abby shook her head, and reached for the floppy canvas bag he’d begun to associate with her work.

“He’s got a huge history report due tomorrow. Jackson’s keeping an eye on him until I get back.”

“Pierce.”

“Don’t grind your teeth. You’ll worship the man once you see what he’s done to your back lawn. The flagstones are gorgeous.”

“He spends too much time at your house.” But he’d made a deal with the devil, and he’d have to learn to live with it.

He moved before she could leave the room, recaptured her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips because it was simply too painful not to taste her.

“Come upstairs, before you run off. I’ve something I want to show you.”

Her nose wrinkled, and her eyes flared, and he laughed.

“Gifts,” he clarified. “For you and for Chris. Things are about to get very busy around here, and I don’t want to run out of time.”

She hesitated.

“I won’t bite, I promise. Come up. Just for a minute.”

She huffed and he laughed again, but she didn’t resist when he lead her up the curving stairway.

Each item in the bedroom bore eloquent witness to her taste. A polished mahogany desk stood against one wall, perpendicular to the windows. Behind the desk a carved chair crouched on slender legs. A simple cherry bench sat at the foot of the bed, supporting a stack of neatly folded and lovingly faded quilts.

She’d scattered red pillows across the white linen. Ivory candles sprouted on a wardrobe, and an evergreen bough had been tied with green ribbons to the four poster.

Everett had piled his luggage on the floor by the bed. He tugged Abby with him across the room, and then released her hand long enough to sort through the cases. It took him several tries to find the box he needed.

When he straightened up she had moved to the window.

“Starting to snow again.”

“I’m hoping for another blizzard.” Without ceremony he handed her a flat box.

“No bow, after all.” She turned the box over and shook it lightly.

Everett shrugged. “I fibbed a little. Open it.”

“What is it?” Still she wouldn’t quite look at him. Her eyes darted restlessly, skimming across his mouth and then dropping to the floor only to rise again.

So she was uncomfortable as he. Good. He liked the fact that he threw her off balance, off center.

“Open it,” he insisted.

She shot him an impatient look, and then unfastened thin cardboard flaps. The box fell wide.

Her gasp was loud in the room. Her hands shook a little as she unfurled green silk, and held it up against the window.

“The embroidery is hand made. Chinese symbols for good luck and happiness.” Everett watched her face with minute attention. He saw awe and yearning, and he was pleased. “It’s not the traditional Christmas gown, but I knew you could carry it off.”

“Christmas gown?” She held the silk against her chest, and Everett felt absurdly happy.

“This goes with it.” He plucked a linen envelope from the box, and put it in her hand.

She set the gown gently onto the bed and broke the seal.

“It’s an invitation,” he explained when she remained quiet. “You’ll come as my guest.”

“I don’t think-”

“You and Pierce. I sent the man his invitation myself. And you won’t say no as it’s a sound business decision. You’ve done the work, now put your face forward.”

He thought he saw the sheen of tears on her lashes, but she only smiled. “Jack in his Carharts and Wolverine boots?”

“I’m not buying Pierce a gown.”

Her lips twitched. “Fair enough.”

“And this is for the kid. A Sounders jersey. But not until Christmas. He has to wait.”

“Tough guy.” She set the second box next to her gown. “No invitation?”

“Party like this is no place for a kid. Trust me.” He hastened on. “I need you there, Abby. Not just for Chesapeake Renovations. For me.”

“Ev.”

He reached out, brushed the damp from her cheek with the knuckle of his thumb. “Don’t cry. You never cry.”

“Not even over a skinned knee.” She pressed his fingers against her cheek with the palm of her hand. “Maybe we’ve missed each other. I’ll give you that. And distances do funny things. But nothing’s changed. Has it?”

He thought of the sheaf of papers in his carry on, and was surprised by a sudden curl of fear. As though she sensed his hesitation she evaded his touch, and retrieved her packages from the bed.

“I’m stopping by Hampton Delicious tomorrow to taste test the canapes.” She tilted her chin. “And running by the bakery to pick up the order of gingerbread men. You’re welcome to come. To make sure everything is to your specifications.”

Of course it would be. He coughed the wedge from his throat. “Windsor’s flying in early. We’ve a bit of business we need to complete before the guests arrive.”

She made a face, and he saw some of her spirit return. “Man’s an ass.”

“You’ve never met him.”

“He’s an ass, I can tell.”

“Well, don’t tell
him
.” Everett ran his fingers through his hair. “He’ll be settled in by dinner. I’d like to see the kid, spend some time with you.” Pride wouldn’t let him make it a plea. “Come to dinner.”

He saw the indecision in her eyes and then, to his relief, she straightened her shoulders. “He’s eager to see you. We’ll come. For a little while. It’s a school night.”

He’d take what he could get. “Just dinner, then. How is he?”

“Better. Busy. Richard hasn’t bothered to pick up the phone, but I suppose you know that.”

“Boy’s better without him.”

This time her smile was real and warmed the knot in his belly.

“Abby.”

“Night, Ev.”

She was gone. He stood rooted in spot, listening to her footsteps on the stairs and along the front hall. She shut the front door quietly, but still he heard the click of her fingers on the latch.

He couldn’t find the strength to move until he heard the crunch of her tires on snow, and then he only made it as far as the mahogany desk before his knees went weak. He dropped into the carved chair, propped his elbows on the desk, and gazed sightlessly at the wall.

The man who opened the door to Chris’s enthusiastic knock was thin and pinched as a skeleton and exactly as Abby had imagined, except for the bright green bow tie.

“Windsor,” she guessed.

“Ms. Ross.” He didn’t quite bow, but it was a close thing.

“Nice tie.”

He didn’t quite smile, either, but Abby was surprised to glimpse a softening of his pinched brow.

“Come in.”

He took her coat and Chris’s windbreaker, and hung the garments neatly in the huge side closet she had made into a coat room.

“Mr. Anderson is in the game room. He hopes you’ll join him.”

“Cool.” Chris disappeared down the hall.

Because she couldn’t quite decide how to react to Windsor’s blunt stare, Abby nodded and followed after. She heard the scuff of the man’s shoes trailing behind, and felt the weight of his consideration between her shoulder blades.

“The house is awesome, Mom.” Chris stopped to enjoy the small kitchen Christmas tree. “It looks really great.”

“Thanks.” She grinned back.

“Does Everett like it?”

“Everett does.” The sweet Southern drawl preceded its owner up the basement stairs. Everett stuck his head into the kitchen, and smiled at Chris. “Everett likes it very much.”

Her son didn’t exactly fly into the man’s arms, but he did accept Everett’s extended hand with a great deal of eagerness. And he didn’t seem in any hurry to let go.

“Come downstairs.” Everett set his arm around Chris’s shoulders. “We’ve got billiards and Italian. Extra meatballs. You play snooker, kid?”

“No. Some of the kids at school wanted a table for the gym, but it cost too much.”

“You’ll love this table. It’s a doozy.” With a glance over his shoulder at Abby, Everett ushered Chris into the basement. “Come and eat and then I’ll teach you a few moves.”

Abby followed more slowly. Lights blazed in the game room. A fire jumped behind a glass screen. She’d installed stained glass fixtures over the billiard table, and the wash of color made the space glow with reds and blues.

The table itself was a masculine work of art, all burgundy felt and wood so dark it was almost black. Abby had known, when she had first seen the table in a show room, that it would fit Everett’s taste to a T.

“Woah.” Chris stood in front of the table, enthralled. “It’s huge. How’d you ever get it down here?”

“Trade secret.” Abby winked at her son.

Italian take out overloaded two round tables. Abby knew the inlaid tops could be flipped over to reveal roulette.

She snagged a paper plate, chose a hot calzone, and carried her dinner to the soft leather couch dominating one side of the room. She sank into the cushions, kicked off her boots, and took a healthy bite of dinner.

It was very hot. Heavenly. Cheese and tomato sauce scalded her tongue. She closed her eyes in bliss, and took a second bite. Then she devoured until she had picked the plate clean of crumbs.

“Good, huh?” Everett stood before her. He held another plate, overflowing with pasta. “Try the meatballs.”

Too hungry to be bashful, Abby took the plate, and licked sauce from her thumb. “I think I forgot lunch.”