Meet Me Under The Mistletoe (O'Rourke Family 5) (7 page)

“Uh… Bobby called, but no one came from the village.”

This time Jeremy didn’t even look at her; he just nodded.

“Do you understand why it was so important for Bobby to tell the truth?” she asked, brushing some of the flour from his cheek. “It’s like when you say you’re sick, except you really just want to see your daddy. After a while nobody knows if anything is really wrong.”

Jeremy’s small lower lip pouted out, then a huge sigh rose from him. “But I don’t like day-care.” He planted his elbows on the table and looked angry. “Why did Mommy have to go away?”

Her chest tightened. He’d gone right to the tough question, the question she’d asked so many times about her own father.

“I don’t know…but I know that she didn’t want to leave you.” Shannon pushed the bowl of flour and other ingredients to one side and sat next to him. Some things were more important than cookies. “Tell me about your mommy.”

Standing outside the kitchen, Alex fought a thousand different emotions as he listened to Shannon. Pain at the emptiness Kim’s death had left, love for the woman who’d been his wife…anger at life’s injustices.

And hope, hearing Shannon encourage Jeremy to talk.

Soon his son was pouring out stories about Mommy taking him to the pond to sail paper boats, about cookies and bedtime stories, and the songs she used to sing. Things Alex had thought Jeremy was too young to remember, but which had actually been carefully guarded in his heart.

Alex looked down at the picture he’d unearthed from storage in the attic, one of the rare photos taken of him, Kim and Jeremy as a family. And beneath it was another of Kim with her swollen tummy, proud and happy, just days before giving birth to a healthy baby boy.

He had to wonder if he’d hidden the pictures away to protect himself, when he’d believed he was doing the right thing for Jeremy. How long could you deny feelings you simply didn’t want to accept?

“I bet it was funny when your mother dressed up like that,” Shannon said in the other room.

Alex’s eyes widened as Jeremy giggled. “Mommy drew whiskers on her face and wiggled her nose. Just like a kitty.”

Halloween
.

Kim had been terribly sick by then, but she’d made them laugh when she’d donned cat’s ears and painted her cheeks. She’d been determined to make it through the holidays, to spend that special time with her “men.” How could he have forgotten those moments when she’d pushed the dread away and let them be a family?

Fighting the tightness in his throat, Alex stepped into the kitchen and looked at Jeremy, smiling and happy, the shadows chased from his eyes as he talked about the things that he’d loved about his mommy.

Gratitude filled Alex as he turned his gaze to Shannon. He felt the inevitable throb of desire as well, but he didn’t
mind it as much as usual. He’d never believed in divine intervention, yet Shannon’s fortuitous entry into their lives was enough to make him wonder about the possibility.

“Jeremy, I thought you’d like to have some pictures of your mother,” he said, determined to continue the good his beautiful neighbor had started. “You’re in this one.” He sat at the table and showed his son the one of a very pregnant Kim.

“That’s not me, that’s just Mommy,” Jeremy denied, but he gazed at the photo with growing delight.

“Nope.” Alex pointed to the bulge in Kim’s tummy. “That’s you, a few days before you were born. And you’re the reason she’s smiling. You made your mommy so very happy.”

He glanced at Shannon over his son’s head and wished he could tell her how he felt, but gratitude was mixed with other feelings, less easy to understand.

She challenged him.

Somehow he knew it was because of Shannon that he’d listened to his distraught student, instead of avoiding the tears in her reddened eyes, the way he always avoided emotional scenes. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about people, but it was easier to give money than get involved.

Shannon had gotten involved with his son because she knew what it was like to lose a parent and was willing to open that old hurt to help a child she barely knew.

“How about pizza for dinner?” he asked, his gaze still fixed on Shannon. “We’ll go over to that new Italian place that everyone says is so good.”

“Yummy,” Jeremy exclaimed.

“Shannon?” Alex prompted when she didn’t say anything.

She nudged the bowl on the table. “What about the cookies?”

“Finish them tomorrow. Unless you’re tired of us and want some time off.”

“If I get tired of you, you’ll know it,” she said, giving him one of her exasperated looks.

“Let’s go then.” It seemed only natural to put out his hand and she took it with a questioning smile. When she stood, he was surprised to see the top of her head only came to his shoulder. He kept thinking of Shannon as tall, but it was an illusion of her leggy beauty and vibrant nature.

They were friends, Alex reminded himself. Her height—or lack of it—wasn’t something he should be thinking about.

“You put on your coats. I’ll start the Jeep and get the heat going,” he said quickly.

“All right.”

Outside, he saw that clouds had rolled across the Puget Sound area. A misting rain drizzled through the twilight, so fine it was like fog shrouding the landscape. The windows clouded up the moment he got inside the Jeep, and it took several minutes before warm air began coming through the vents.

“I don’t know about this. Maybe you’d prefer staying in,” he said when he’d returned inside his condo. “It’s a miserable night.”

Shannon smiled. “I don’t mind, if you don’t. This is Christmas weather.”

His eyebrows shot upward. “Snow is Christmas weather. This is just cold and wet.”

“Give it a chance. We don’t get many white Christmases in this part of the country, but there’s the smell of wood smoke and fresh-washed evergreen in the air, and all those strings of lights sparkle through the rain like tiny jewels.”

Alex shook his head, yet when they walked outside to the waiting Jeep, he realized that the scent of wood smoke and evergreens did fill the air, and the early twilight was indeed brightened by the Christmas lights strung on trees and bushes and houses. He’d deliberately chosen a place that was different than their old home in Minnesota, but while they probably wouldn’t have snow for Christmas, they’d have stands of pine and cedar keeping the forest green.

And they’d have Shannon.

The errant thought shook him. Desire was one thing, but he didn’t want to need anyone…the kind of needing that tied your heart in knots and made good-byes so terrible.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Shannon commented as he pulled out of the driveway. “Is something wrong?”

Alex summoned a smile. Shannon was a nice woman, and she was doing a lot for his son, but that didn’t mean he needed her. He had to get a grip.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just hadn’t realized we wouldn’t have a white Christmas.”

“Well, we
might
get some early snow, but we usually don’t before January. Even then it’s iffy, and doesn’t stay long on the ground unless an arctic storm comes down from Canada.”

Using the discipline he’d honed over the years, Alex forced his brain into less disturbing directions.

Snow was a perfect distraction.

He mentally noted where he’d stored the snow shovel, and calculated how long it would take to shovel the walks and their two driveways. He’d shovel snow for any neighbor, so it wasn’t significant that he planned to deal with Shannon’s snow.

They were friends, weren’t they?

A
lex doggedly read the term papers piled on his desk and tried to ignore the cheerful sounds rising from the first floor of the condominium.

Jeremy hadn’t forgotten about the half-finished cookies, and at 5:00 a.m. his son had been standing by his bed, asking if they could call Shannon to come and help finish making the “ginger people.”

“You mean gingerbread men,” he’d said groggily.

“Shannon says they’re ginger people.”

“Did she say ginger
bread
people?” Alex was never at his best in the morning, and getting into a semantics discussion with a four year old before the crack of dawn hadn’t been the brightest idea in the world.

“Shannon says ginger people.”

Of course. Whatever Shannon said was the gospel truth as far as Jeremy was concerned. It didn’t matter, anyway. In the end they were just cookies.

“Okay,” he’d muttered.

“Goody.” His son had picked up the phone receiver and pushed it into Alex’s hand. “Call now, Daddy.”

Oh, God.

Why couldn’t children sleep when other people were sleeping?

“Son, I didn’t mean it was okay to call. I meant okay, they’re ginger people.”

“But,
Daddy
—”

“You don’t want to wake Shannon up, do you? She’s on vacation. Besides, you don’t call friends this early in the morning.”

Jeremy had reluctantly agreed, then he’d crawled into bed with him and talked for three straight hours, with liberal references to their neighbor and the things she’d done and said when they were together.

So much for his
daddy
sleeping late. Alex had finally given up and called Shannon at a more reasonable hour about the cookies. She’d come over looking fresh and wide-awake, while he felt like Grumpy and Sleepy from the Seven Dwarves rolled into one.

Conceding defeat, Alex abandoned the term papers and walked downstairs. His son and his neighbor were lying on their backs by the Christmas tree, holding kaleidoscopes in front of their eyes as cheerful Christmas carols played in the background. He smiled at the scene.

Shannon’s auburn hair tumbled about her head and her knees swayed in time with the music. Her feet were bare, toenails painted pink. Snug jeans that showcased her legs were topped by a T-shirt with the words, Dear Santa, Just bring the five gold rings, printed on it. She looked like an unruly teenager, though he knew she must be in her late twenties.

Next to her was Jeremy, singing “Jingle Bells” off-key.

Mr. Tibbles wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“Hey, I thought you were baking cookies,” Alex said, his grin broadening.

“The dough has to chill before we roll it out,” Shannon explained without looking up. She spun the dial on the end of the kaleidoscope and whistled a few notes in tune to the stereo. “I thought you were grading term papers.”

“I’m taking a break.”

“You ready for the final exams?”

“Yes. And I’ve been trying to work out a time for a makeup session, if the student has a good excuse.”

Shannon sat up. “Really? I never heard of a professor willing to have a makeup session.”

“Yeah? You couldn’t charm them into it?” His comment felt dangerously like flirting, but it was hard to believe Shannon O’Rourke failing at anything she might go after.

“I never needed a makeup test. I was the perfect student.”

“How perfect? No-skinny-dipping-in-Lake-Washington-during-Christmas-break perfect? Or grade-and-attendance perfect? There are different levels of perfect, you know. Some students are more perfect than others.”

She laughed. “Nobody in their right mind skinny-dips in Lake Washington in December. Of course, one of my brothers did it, but he was crazy.”

“What’s ’kinny-dipping?” Jeremy asked.

Alex stifled a groan. He had a big mouth, and he obviously didn’t know how to guard what he said around his own son. Jeremy was smart and precocious and he understood things far too well for comfort.

“Skinny-dipping is going swimming without your bathing
suit,” Shannon explained. “It sounds like more fun than it really is, especially when it’s cold.”

“Okay.” Jeremy rolled over onto his stomach and started the toy train chugging around the tracks.

Alex sighed. Why was it so easy when Shannon explained something like that, and so difficult when he tried? Their gazes met and another grin curved his mouth at the merry humor in her eyes. In another life he would have thought it was funny as well, watching a parent squirm over the innocent things a child asked…and the loaded answers that followed.

He wanted to promise retribution, because it was guaranteed that Shannon O’Rourke’s children would be a wild handful. But he bit his tongue, remembering her reaction the last time he’d said something about her having kids—a faltering smile and a flicker of unhappiness. He didn’t want to spoil the moment.

“I need some coffee,” he said, a yawn splitting his mouth. “How about you?”

“Sure.”

In the kitchen Shannon sat and watched as Alex filled the coffeemaker with water. His hair was rumpled and his eyes sleepy. She didn’t doubt that if it wasn’t for Jeremy and term papers to grade, he’d still have his face stuffed in a pillow; he definitely wasn’t a morning person.

Lord, she’d been up since before six, writing memos, responding to e-mails from the office…and sending a message to Kane that she wouldn’t be at work for another week or two. He’d wonder about it, particularly since she’d just begged him to end her forced vacation, but it didn’t matter. She was having too much fun.

Fun?

Shannon smothered a chuckle. Playing with Jeremy and trying to figure out how to bake cookies weren’t her usual ideas of fun. Her family would die of shock if they discovered how she’d been spending her days. Her reputation as a disaster in the kitchen had reached epic proportions, a reputation that had spread to the office after she’d twice set fire to the break-room microwave.

“You have that devilish twinkle in your eyes. Promise you aren’t laughing at me,” Alex said, plunking two steaming mugs of coffee on the table. He dropped into a chair with a groan.

“Why would I laugh?”

“I open my mouth in front of my son and dumb things come out. Like mentioning skinny-dipping.” Beard stubble rasped beneath his fingers as he rubbed his jaw and yawned again.

“Didn’t you get any sleep last night?”

“Not enough. Jeremy decided that 5:00 a.m. was the perfect time to start making gingerbread men. Only he insists they’re called ginger people, because that’s what you call them.”

Shannon dangled the cookie cutters she’d bought in front of Alex. “There are two sexes. I don’t want to be exclusive. Besides, I have a politically correct cookbook that calls them ginger people.”

He lifted one eyelid and glared at her. “Next time, I’m teaching him how to dial the phone so he can wake
you
up in the middle of the night.”

“Five isn’t the middle of the night.”

“I knew it. You’re one of
those
people, aren’t you?”

“If you mean a morning person, the answer is yes.”

“I mean one of those people who wakes up early and
thinks it’s the best time of the day.” He made a disgusted sound and gulped his coffee, yelping a second later, “That’s hot!”

Shannon couldn’t help herself, she dissolved into laughter. “You just made it, what would you think it is?”

Alex leaned back in his chair, regarding her. “Aren’t you going to mother me? Where’s the usual feminine sympathy like running to get an ice cube for my burned tongue?”

“Do you want to be mothered?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not going to do that.”

An odd gleam entered his eyes. “I think I’m going to like being friends with you, Shannon.”

That was a switch. Alex had only agreed to a friendship for Jeremy’s sake. Shannon swallowed a stab of regret and told herself to be grateful he’d agreed to anything. He was proof that her luck in the romance department hadn’t changed.

She sipped her coffee and thought about the men she’d dated over the years. Some had hoped to get close to her wealthy brother through her. Others had been allergic to marriage or, on the flip side, had secretly wanted a perfect homemaker for a wife. Few of those had been as callous as her college love, who’d decided he couldn’t handle her lack of homemaking skills and made sure their mutual friends knew exactly why they’d broken up.

She’d forced herself to joke about the split, but she’d died inside each time she laughed about the end of her first love.

“Are you asleep, too?”

Startled, Shannon lifted her head. Alex had leaned forward and seemed wider awake now that he’d burned his tongue and gotten more caffeine into his system.

“No, not asleep. But your coffee could put hair on my chest.”

“Too strong for you?”

Her pulse jumped, but it had nothing to do with coffee, just the tug of her heart. If she wasn’t careful, she could risk having it broken again, and she wasn’t certain how many times a broken heart could heal.

“It’s a little strong.”

“I assumed morning people lived on coffee.”

“Not me, but I can’t speak for all morning people.”

Shannon traced a circle on the table and tried to regain the peace she’d felt lying next to Jeremy, rediscovering the beauty of light and color captured in a kaleidoscope. How long had it been since she’d felt at peace? Children seemed to have a marvelous gift of simplicity, a way of cutting through the chaos of the world.

“Do you have something against being mothered?” she asked idly. She’d been thinking about inviting Alex and Jeremy to her family’s Christmas celebration, and Pegeen O’Rourke mothered anyone who would let her.

“I’m an adult, I don’t need mothering.”

“Don’t tell my mom that. I think she secretly wishes we’d never grown up, though she probably doesn’t mind as much now that she has grandchildren to spoil.”

“She sounds nice.”

“Thanks. She is.” Shannon didn’t ask about Alex’s mother, remembering how he’d described his childhood—
a marital war zone followed by divorced-parent hell
. Given his experience, he must have loved his wife beyond belief to have risked getting married.

Sorrow crowded Shannon’s throat—sorrow for what Alex had lost, and what she might never have.

“I think that cookie dough must be cold enough,” she said huskily. “And you have term papers to grade.”

“Cracking the proverbial whip, huh?”

“Sure, that’s what friends do.”

Alex smiled and rose. “About the mothering,” he said, “don’t get the wrong idea. I’ve just had my fill of women rushing in and trying to take Kim’s place.”

“They probably mean well.”

“Maybe. But I like your style better.”

He sauntered out and Shannon shook her head. He liked her style. What did that mean? Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Men thought they were direct and to the point, but they were beyond confusing.

“Jeremy?” she called. “How about making those ginger people now?”

Alex studied the term paper in front of him. He was trying to figure out a reason not to flunk the author, when the smell of something burning crept into his consciousness.

At almost the same moment the smoke alarm screeched and he jumped to his feet.

“Shannon?”

He raced downstairs, grabbing a fire extinguisher on the way. Smoke filled the kitchen, with the thickest billows rising from the stove and sink.

“It’s…” Shannon coughed. “Everything is under control. Yeow!” She dumped a blackened cookie sheet into the sink and began flapping a dish towel.

As a precaution, Alex sprayed the smoking mess with the fire extinguisher, then grabbed Shannon and Jeremy and shoved them out the back door.

“Stay there,” he ordered.

Inside, he opened windows, started the exhaust fans blowing and turned off the oven. When he was certain nothing was actually on fire, he put a cap over the smoke alarm to silence it. The sound of Christmas music replaced the shrill screech.

“It’s all right now,” he said, stepping into the backyard again.

Shannon had her arms wrapped around Jeremy, keeping him warm. She was shaking from the cold and he swore beneath his breath, realizing he’d overreacted when he’d shoved them outside. But when it was his family involved, he couldn’t take any chances.

“Come back in, the smoke is nearly gone.” Alex put out his hand and she released Jeremy.

“Go inside where it’s warm,” she said, her voice shaking.

Jeremy skipped through the door, but Shannon remained on the garden bench.

“Shannon?”

“I think I’ll go home,” she whispered.

He frowned. “Why?”

“It’s better if I do.” She blinked and a tear dripped down her cheek.

Damn
. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing, especially when he couldn’t see any reason for her to be so upset. So some cookies got burned, it wasn’t a disaster. On the other hand, he had a strange feeling that if he let Shannon leave, she wouldn’t come back. And that
would
be a disaster, for reasons Alex didn’t want to think about.

“Better how?”

“Just better.” She swallowed hard and two more tears spilled over. “I’m sorry about the cookies. I should have told you that I can’t cook, but I thought if I paid attention it would be all right.”

She jumped up and rushed across the empty flower bed separating their small yards.

Oh, man. This was exactly the type of situation Alex hated dealing with the most. And if any other woman had cried over a burned tray of cookies he would have been exasperated, but it obviously meant something significant to Shannon.

“Shannon, don’t go.”

“It’s really…
better
.”

Shannon pulled at her sliding-glass door, but the dumb thing was locked. So much for a speedy exit. She spun around, not wanting to see Alex’s face and the disappointment that must be there, but not having a choice.

“Hey, it’s all right.” He put his arms around her, warmth radiating from his body.

It was nice.

Strength and heat and comfort. She’d ached after their brief kiss, ached for a deeper touch, and the kind of tender holding that only came in her dreams. She’d wondered if Alex could be the man in those dreams, but it was useless to think that way. He’d pushed her away from the moment they met; the barriers around his heart were higher than the castle walls in any fairy tale.