Christmas Kisses Page 11

  “Heck of a way to get a dinner date with you,” he said, setting a candle on her desk. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

  Beth was numb. Forty customers were asleep on the floor of her bookstore.

  Russ soothed back a lock of her hair. His gaze softened in the flickering candlelight. “I have to say, when you first told me you thought you were under a curse, I didn’t believe you.”

  She smiled, meeting his gaze. “And now?”

  “I believe you.” He took a bite of cookie, then held it out for her to take a bite.

  She bit into the sweet. “This is insane. What am I going to do with all these people?”

  “You’re doing it. Relax. They won’t hold you responsible for the storm.”

  “They’ll never shop here again. The store will bring back nothing but bad memories of a cold night spent on a miserably uncomfortable floor.”

  “Actually, they’re going to thank you. You’ve given them a safe haven from a storm. They should and will be thankful that they are relatively warm and comfortable. What more could they ask?”

  Easing her closer, he chuckled. Beth liked the masculine sound. He smelled of clean falling snow and brisk coldness.

  “Thank you, Russ. The grand opening would have been a disaster if you hadn’t arranged to bring all these people here.”

  He nibbled her ear.

  “Of course, this weather is a disaster, but the grand opening was a success. I’m sure I’ve made more tonight than Anne made in a month.”

  “I’m glad.” He bent to kiss her. No matter how frigid the temperature, his kiss warmed her to the core.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you planned this—or Aunt Harry planned it,” Beth accused, snuggling closer in his arms.

  “Now why would anyone in their right mind ‘plan’ something like this?”

  Why indeed? Beth wondered. But then, they were talking about Aunt Harry.

  “If I were going to plan anything, I’d make sure we were alone. Two’s company, forty’s a crowd. However, now that I think about it, I haven’t had a whole bunch of luck with you alone, either,” he admitted.

  It was true. She’d avoided Russ and she knew it was obvious to him. How could she allow him access to her heart when she knew he was leaving as soon as his leg healed? How could she explain that a short romantic interlude was not her style? If she allowed herself to fall in love, it would be for a lifetime.

  “I know, Russ, there’s just no future—”

  “Miss Davis?”

  Beth reluctantly stepped out of Russ’s arms. “Yes, Toby?”

  “Can I take off this stupid suit now?”

  She smothered a laugh. Nothing was going as she planned. “Of course, Toby. And put your coat on over your jeans and sweater. It’s going to get cold in here.”

  CHAPTER 7

  THE SMELL of coffee woke Russ. It took him a moment to realize where he was. In a foreign country? On an airliner? The jungle? He gradually became aware of Beth, snuggled tightly against him, her head against his chest, and his thoughts fell into order. Beth’s bookstore. The storm.

  His watch indicated it was barely six o’clock. A quiet serenity lay over the building. No one else seemed to be up yet. The lights were on and the hum of the furnace assured him the electricity was back on.

  He rubbed Beth’s shoulder, coaxing her awake. “Hey, sleepyhead, wake up.”

  Beth’s eyes blinked open. “What—”

  He leaned closer, whispering, “We slept together last night. You’re thoroughly compromised.”

  Sitting up, she groaned, holding her neck. “Ouch.”

  “Stiff?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He massaged her neck and shoulders. She stretched beneath his hands like a sensuous cat. She was more appealing than ever in the morning with her hair tousled and cheeks flushed with sleep.

  “It’s nice waking up next to you.”

  A blush colored her cheeks. “Oh?”

  “No one ever tell you that before?”

  “Well, it isn’t usually the first thing I hear in the morning.” She brushed her fingers through her hair. “Are we the first ones awake?”

  “I don’t hear any movement in the front of the store. But I smell coffee.” She blushed again, and Russ laughed softly at her innocence. Woman of the world—in her dreams.

  Beth sniffed the coffee-scented air. “Anne must be awake.” She got to her feet and brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt.

  He watched her go through the door. How many men had seen her first thing in the morning? He felt a pang of envy for any who were that lucky. He couldn’t imagine her wasting time on affairs destined to go nowhere.

  They were a good match. It wasn’t his style, either. But then, she had no way to know that. It wasn’t exactly the first announcement a guy made to an attractive woman. “Hey, I don’t sleep around.” He could only imagine Beth’s reaction to that.

  Others were beginning to get up. He heard Toby’s excited voice. “It snowed a hunnert inches!”

  When Russ walked out of the back room, people were milling about, yawning and stretching, trying to loosen stiff joints. Beth restrained Toby from bolting out the door when his father arrived in a four-wheel-drive sport utility vehicle.

  Dennis Garrett entered the store, and ruffled his son’s hair. “You’ve had quite an adventure, haven’t your?”

  “It was neat! I got to sleep on the floor!”

  Russ walked over to pour himself a cup of coffee. “What do the roads look like this morning?”

  “A mess. The police are warning motorists to stay in,” Dennis said. “I can haul as many as four, if anyone’s interested.”

  An older couple volunteered, but the few who had driven were determined to take their chances on digging out their own cars while others chose to walk. One by one, they went out the door to assess their individual situations. Beth stood at the door, smiling and wishing them each well as they left. “Sorry you had to sleep on the floor.”

  “Oh, it’s good for me. Makes me appreciate home more,” an elderly gentleman assured her.

  She helped Aunt Harry make her way out to the bus. Russ loaded the others with no transportation, then slowly pulled out onto the street.

  “I might as well take the day off, No one in his right mind is going to be out today,” Beth grumbled to no one in particular.

  The store emptied, and she turned the Open sign to Closed, heaving a sigh of relief. It was the first time in ages she could relax. The store was warm now, and there was plenty of food and drinks left and hundreds of books she hadn’t read. It was a perfect situation. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she cut a wedge of Harry’s banana nut bread, and selected a new Sue Grafton mystery from the shelf. She had no idea how much time passed before the door burst open.

  “How about me fixing breakfast?”

  Her eyebrows lifted with skepticism. “You, fix breakfast? What are you doing back here?”

  “What do you mean ‘me’ fix breakfast? I scramble one mean egg—and did you expect me to go home and be snowbound all alone?”

  Sighing, she lay the book aside. How could she resist an offer to be snowbound with Russ Foster? “I’ll call Aunt Harry and tell her where I’m going.”

  “I hope she’s not taking messages from aliens this morning.”

  Beth smiled. “That’s usually later in the day, and she hasn’t done it for a while. Maybe she’s broken contact.” While Beth called Harriet, Russ picked up the scattered paper plates and cups and dumped them into the wastebasket, then carried the coffeemaker and spiced tea carafe back to the small kitchen alcove.

  “She’s fixing breakfast for George.”

  Russ chuckled. “Those two have something going?”

  “Aunt Harry and George?” Beth laughed, straightening a stack of magazines.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Aunt Harry and George. I don’t think Aunt Harry’s thought about…well, I don’t think that sort of t
hing interests her anymore.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  She avoided his amused eyes. “I’m starving. Those scrambled eggs had better live up to all your hype.”

  He offered his arm. “You’ll be sorry you ever doubted me. We’ll leave the bus here, and take your car, if you don’t mind. That monster was all over the road. I made it once, but I don’t want to press my luck again. It’s bad out there.”

  Bundled against the cold wind, Russ held Beth’s arm while she locked the store, then clinging to his arm, made her way down the icy sidewalk. He held her steady when her feet nearly slipped from under her.

  Abandoned cars, covered in ice and snow, lined the street. Snow was still falling in tiny bundles of fluff.

  Russ scraped snow and ice from the Grand Am, then let the engine warm so the defrosters could work.

  By the time he unlocked Dave’s front door, it was almost ten o’clock. Jasper, in a frenzy to get out, bolted through the door and nearly bowled them both over.

  “I’ll build a fire,” Russ said, tossing his coat onto the sofa.

  Beth browsed the room while he brought wood from the porch, and crumpled old newspapers in the fireplace.

  “I like it,” she announced. “Carol’s done a marvelous job with this old room. She’s kept it rustic, but comfortable.” She sat down in an overstuffed chair to work off her boots.

  “I’m not much on all this nature stuff.” Russ touched a match to the newspapers, and the fire caught. “I wouldn’t have agreed to house sit had I known about their Davy Crockett instincts.” Playful now, he sang in a deep baritone, “Shot me a baar when I was only three.”

  When Beth giggled, he glanced up. “I mean that in the kindest way, of course.”

  She nodded solemnly. “Of course. Then it’s true you don’t have a microwave.”

  “Very true.”

  “I thought you just used that as an excuse because you didn’t want to deal with any more of Aunt Harry’s leftovers.”

  “Me? Not fond of raisin meat loaf? You wound me, Miss Davis.”

  “You haven’t eaten one bite of that meat loaf,” she scoffed.

  “No, but the hound will eat anything that isn’t nailed down.” He glanced at the pile of shredded magazines littering the floor. “Even nailed down doesn’t stop him when he’s bored.”

  “Well, next time you’re over, remind me to give you a microwave. We have dozens.”

  “And how many women can offer that?” He straightened, brushing wood chips off his hands. “I bought a Mr. Coffee. Want to make a pot while I show off my culinary skills?”

  “Sure.” Beth followed him into the kitchen. Approval showed in her eyes as she viewed the bright, airy room with large windows and gingham curtains. She measured out coffee while he placed kindling into the wood stove.

  “My, Carol is brave. She goes through this every time she cooks?”

  “Every time.” When the fire was going, Russ opened the refrigerator and studied the contents. “Milk’s spoiled, I can tell that. But I have seven loaves of apricot bread in the freezer and two fruitcakes. How do scrambled eggs and toast sound? With a side of apricot bread.”

  “Sounds wonderful. I’m starved.”

  He pushed up his sweater sleeves. “Then let me show you my specialty. Eggs à la Foster.”

  “I’m waiting to be impressed.” She slid onto a bar stool and sat, cradling her face in her hands, elbows propped on the counter.

  After melting butter in an iron skillet, Russ dumped in eggs, salt, pepper, Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce.

  “Ye gads.”

  “No comments from the gallery, please. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” He winked at Beth knowingly.

  Beth grinned, sliding bread into the toaster.

  In a few minutes, the toast was done, and Russ dished up two generous helpings of scrambled eggs, then sprinkled shredded cheddar cheese on top.

  “There you are. Eggs a la Foster.”

  “My, I am impressed.”

  They ate, sitting next to one another at the bar, knees touching. Was she as aware of that contact as he? Someone was looking over him when he laid out the food and coffee. How did he have the foresight to keep everything within an arm’s reach? He leaned to take the coffeepot from its wanner without moving his leg.

  “Well, I hate to admit it, but you have to be the King of Scrambled Eggs.”

  Beth slid off the stool and carried her fresh cup to the front window. Snow covered the trees, shrubbery, rooftops. Neighborhood children frolicked in the drifts, taking advantage of a day out of school.

  “Winter wonderland.”

  “Couldn’t be prettier,” Russ agreed.

  “Thanks for making my grand opening a success.”

  “My pleasure, madam.” He got up and carried his dish to the sink. “Anything for my lady.”

  “I’m not your lady.” She made the declaration so softly he almost missed it.

  Picking up his cup, he joined her. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

  Her eyes were on the children building a fat snowman. “About what?”

  “About you being my lady. I think my chances are slim to none of achieving that unless you lower those barriers of yours.” He took her cup, set it aside, and drew her into his arms. His lips brushed hers. “What’s with this continuing hands-off attitude?” He nibbled her lower lip.

  “Long-distance romances never work out.” She allowed him access to her mouth, and he took it. Was she serious? Had she thought about the prospect? To be perfectly honest, had he?

  “Why not? There are planes, trains and automobiles,” he whispered, drawing her close.

  He felt her tremble. She dropped her gaze. “I don’t know why they don’t work, they just don’t. They fizzle after a while.” She sighed. “First we’d be missing planes, then we’d be too busy to fly over, then we’d leave messages on the answering machines. Finally, we wouldn’t even bother to call.”

  “Now that’s pessimism if I ever heard it.” She fit him like a glove. He realized that, and he liked it. Her mouth opened beneath his, welcoming him with an abandon that came as a surprise.

  Easing the zipper down the back of her dress, he drew the fabric down over her shoulders. Easy Russ. Don’t let this get out of hand. Sure, you’re attracted to her, but she’s right. Long-distance relationships are tough.

  Her skin was warm and fragrant. Mulberry, he thought Light filtered from the sheer curtains, dappling her smooth skin. She trembled beneath his touch.

  His breathing was as ragged as hers when he dragged his mouth away. Forehead resting against hers, he let her dress drop in a pool at her feet.

  “Do you think this is crazy?” he whispered.

  “Yes, don’t you?”

  “Is it what you want?”

  She didn’t answer. He knelt down to retrieve the dress and gently put it back around her. She looked at him squarely and loosened his fingers to let it drop again. She stepped clear of the fabric. “We’re adults, Russ. Yes, it’s what I want.”

  He eased an arm around her, kissing her,

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure,” she whispered.

  Lifting her unto his arms, he carried her into the bedroom. They sat on the hand-stitched coverlet, his lips holding hers as she guided his hand to release the hooks to her bra. When she was free of it, he brought her to him again and held her close to lie beside him.

  He took her hand and placed it against his chest. “Hear my heart pounding for you?”

  Her eyes softened with need, she nodded. “Mine is, too.” She lifted his sweater, and ran her hands along the hard muscles of his chest.

  Drawing her back to the pillow, he cradled her head in his arms. This was one scene he would not hurry. “It’s still snowing. Do you hear it?”

  “Yes.” She snuggled closer. “It’s nice to be snowbound with you.”

  “No qualms about the long distance?”

  �
��A few, maybe,” she murmured between his kisses.

  “It’ll work, I promise. We’ll make it work.”

  She laid a finger across his mouth. “No promises. Just love me, now.” She traced the lines of his face. “We’ll deal with distance later.”

  It was close to noon when Russ opened his eyes again. Contentment washed over him. Beth was curled in his arms, sleeping like a kitten. If there had been any lingering doubts about his feelings toward her, the past two hours dissolved them. He was in love with her. Crazy, wildly in love with her, and now what did he do? Ask her to move to Washington with him? Would she do that? Could Aunt Harriet be happy in Washington, away from friends and familiar surroundings? Could she leave Harriet and the bookstore she loved so much?

  He kissed her lightly on the forehead and slid out of bed without disturbing her. After splashing some water on his face, he braced his arms on the sink and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. What was he doing? He loved her, but was love enough to take on the responsibility of marriage? Maybe he loved her too much to marry her. Was it fair to thrust her into what he called his life? He was out of town months at a time. The new job would change that, but by how much?

  Who knew what the new position would bring? He would have even more obligations to his men than to himself. The marriage survival rate was low in his line of work. Shaking his head, he stepped into the shower and stood beneath the hot spray.

  When he returned to the bedroom and stepped into his jeans, Beth opened her eyes.

  Her look told him all he needed to know. She was as apprehensive as he. “You going to sleep the day away, sleepyhead? I laid out a fresh towel for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  She got out of bed and took a shower, and he went back to the living room to see if the fireplace needed more logs. Adding another log, he shook his head again. You’re a coward. For the first time in your life you’re a bonafide coward, Russ Foster, allowing a sweet bundle, smelling of mulberry, to scare the hell out of you!

  By the time Beth joined him, a fresh pot of coffee was waiting, and the fire was going strong. He handed her a full cup.

  “Thanks for the robe.” She took the mug and sipped from it, avoiding his eyes.