Our First Christmas Page 8

  He put a hand on her shoulder, using his thumb to trace the bone along her shoulder. Her nerves danced and her senses sharpened. “I never forgot how smooth your skin felt.”

  She thought of the callouses marring her palms. “You remember?”

  “Every detail.”

  “When you woke up in Merida, I was gone.”

  Gray eyes darkened with a mixture of anger and passion. “Roses have thorns. That’s what makes them interesting.”

  He raised his hand to her cheek and grazed his knuckle along her cheekbone. “You’re interesting. Intoxicating. Frustrating. I like the challenge.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. The touch reminded her of butterflies skittering across her skin. Again, he kept the pace slow, as if he wanted her to set the tempo.

  She wrapped her hands around his neck and, rising on tiptoes, pressed into the kiss. His arms immediately banded around her narrow waist, and he lifted her off the ground as he deepened the kiss.

  The moment swept over her like a tropical storm and she found herself longing for the touch of his hands on her body. In the house, footsteps creaked on the second floor. His hand, moving from her shoulder to her breast, stilled. He pulled back and allowed a sigh of frustration. “This is not how I pictured our reunion.”

  She moistened her lips, trying to push back the wave of desire that had come with the force of a twister. “You imagined?”

  He cupped her face with his hand, coaxing her to open her eyes and look at him. “More times than I could count.”

  Heat warmed her cheeks. “Oh.”

  Another creak echoed in the house, reminding them both where they stood. His hands glided over her arms. “We’ll wait until we have a proper bed and more privacy than my sister’s house can give.” His voice deepened with a promise he sounded determined to keep.

  Disappointment circled around and howled that promises were meant to be broken. With an effort, she released her grip. “I don’t know what to say.”

  His head cocked a fraction. “Mind, this is no rejection. It’s an admittance the timing is bad, and we will return to this. That’s a promise.”

  A nervous laugh bubbled in her throat. “I’m supposed to sleep now?”

  He glanced back at her, a lightness humming under the remaining passion. “I did try to offer you coffee.”

  With his scent still lingering on her, she crawled back into bed, quite sure she would never sleep again.

  Chapter 11

  Tuesday, December 23, 10 A.M.

  When Marisa awoke, the bright sun streamed in her window. She glanced at the clock and realized it was late.

  She tossed back the covers, shocked and amazed that she’d slept so long. With the rumble of the boys laughing and talking and the television humming in the other room, she got out of bed, showered, and dressed. Purse and overnight bag in hand, she emerged from her room to the smell of coffee and cinnamon. The scents coaxed her to the kitchen, where she found Lucas talking to Sherry.

  Sherry greeted her with a cheery good morning. Lucas’s nod was casual, but his gaze devoured her as he raised his coffee cup to his lips.

  Color warmed her cheeks as she thought about the kiss they’d shared last night. “I can’t believe I slept this late.”

  Sherry waved away her concern as she plucked a Santa mug from the stand and filled it with coffee. “You needed it.”

  Lucas’s eyes twinkled as if he’d remembered decrying her inability to sleep.

  “So you two are off to the accident site today?” Sherry asked.

  “We are.” Marisa shifted her attention to Sherry. “I’m anxious to get to the site now that I’m rested.”

  Sherry pushed scones in her direction. “Eat up. It’s going to be a big day.”

  Marisa’s phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and glanced at the number. “That’s my father. I better take it.”

  “Sure,” Lucas said.

  She offered a brisk hello and moved into the living room, away from Lucas and his sister. She couldn’t predict what her father would say and didn’t want to risk them overhearing.

  “Dad.”

  “Marisa, where the hell are you?”

  She rarely heard her father swear and knew he was upset. “I’m at a friend’s house.”

  “What does that mean? According to Kyle you’re with that Ranger and you’re helping him again.”

  She lifted her chin, annoyed that he spoke to her as if she were twelve. “Dad, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you? You’ve just been in an accident. You’re lucky to be alive, and now you’re running around with that Ranger.”

  “I’m not running around. I’m trying to remember what happened to me.”

  “You need to come home and let Susan and me take care of you.”

  Home. His house, purchased after the divorce, had never felt like home. When she’d stayed the night she’d been an anxious guest, hesitant to use too many towels or stay more than a night.

  “Dad, I’ll call you when I have more information. But for now, I have to go.”

  “We’re not done with this conversation.”

  “Yes, we are. I’ll talk to you soon.” She hung up and immediately put her phone on silent. Sooner or later she’d have to deal with the outside world, but for now, she needed to shut it out.

  Lucas watched Marisa hover by the front window, her face tucked forward and her hair draping her face like a thick curtain.

  “I like her,” Sherry said.

  Lucas let the comment stand and didn’t respond.

  “So do you,” she prodded.

  He sipped his coffee.

  “And the fact that you aren’t talking is proof enough for me that you really like her.”

  “That so?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And how do you know?”

  “In all your days, Lucas, I’ve never known you to bring a woman home over the holidays. You’ve had your share of dates at barbecues, but the holidays have always been kind of sacred for you. You met her in Mexico, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Something happened?”

  “False start. Nothing that can’t be overcome.”

  She shook her head. “Why bring her here?”

  “I could see she needed a break before we headed to the accident site.”

  “I’m a good hour out of your way. Makes no sense to detour to my place when you could have gotten a good hotel room in Fredericksburg.”

  “Seemed to me, she’d be more comfortable here.”

  “I don’t mean to give you a hard time. She’s more than welcome. And like I said, I like her.”

  He set his cup down. “But . . .”

  “I just worry for you. You like her. A lot. Whether you admit it or not. And I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

  A smile tugged the edges of his lips. “You’re looking out for me?”

  “Yeah, that’s what family does. We look out for one another. I don’t want you to get your heart broken.”

  He and Marisa were from different worlds. Chemistry in a bedroom didn’t mean any kind of commitment. But he knew they were right for each other.

  “Right now she needs you. She’s hurt and she’s scared. But when she gets back on her feet, she’ll go scrambling back to her world, and you’re going to go back to yours. Like oil and vinegar, they mix when shaken, but after a while they separate and return to where they came from. Sooner or later you’re going to get called away. And she’s going to end up back on one of her jungle digs.”

  “Why don’t you stop thinking? Let’s see how it plays out.”

  “I’m all for letting it play out. Just keep your guard up, big brother.”

  Marisa and Lucas were both quiet in the car. For a long time, she stared out over the dusty land dotted with scrubby trees that reminded her of an old man’s scruffy beard. Texas wasn’t a lush or easy land, but it had a beauty that she’d always found hard to resist.

&nbs
p; She thought about that night she was driving to her father’s house. The sun had set, and she’d been disappointed that her first trip out of the city in over a year had been blanketed in darkness. She’d yearned to see the rolling countryside and the bright sunshine and, for the first time in a long time, she’d realized she needed to push away from her buried ruins and dusty documents and step into life. But, of course, she’d been late because she’d been working. Always working.

  Marisa again questioned her choices when she’d stood in Sherry’s house last night. The home was full of life. It was a happy place. Connected.

  Feeling Lucas’s gaze slide from the road to her face, she heard herself saying, “Your sister has a lovely home.”

  The sound of her voice eased some of the tension in his body, as if he’d worried she’d slipped away from him for good. “She does. She has a knack for making anyone feel part of the family.”

  Her mother had never had stews simmering on the stove or cookies in the oven. “No one can out-Christmas Sherry.”

  He smiled. “I told you.”

  She thought of her mother’s paltry collection of lights and decorations that still remained in the box. She wanted to love Christmas and wanted to embrace the holiday. But each time the season approached, she drew deeper within herself, counting the days to the New Year and the end of the holiday reverie. What kind of person didn’t like Christmas?

  She closed her eyes and pushed aside questions she could not answer. Her focus shifted to what she could fix. Her memory. The accident and the documents.

  As she allowed the tension to seep away like water from a cracked urn, she cleared her mind and collected the broken pieces of the night of the accident. But as much as she stared at the pieces and searched for the missing ones, she could not create a coherent image.

  “You’re trying to remember?”

  “Yes. But no matter how often I assemble or reassemble the pieces, I can’t create a recognizable picture.”

  The seat leather creaked as he settled back in his seat. “Were you playing music on the radio?”

  She opened her eyes and studied his profile. His was not a classically beautiful face. Too many flaws to approach beauty. But there was an energy, a strength that made him far more appealing than the most perfect statue of a Mayan god. And when he smiled . . . well, her knees went just a little weak. “What does that have to do with remembering?”

  “It’s just a simple question. Music?” When she continued to stare at him, he said, “Close your eyes. Music.”

  She closed her eyes and let her mind drift past the broken pieces that refused assembly. In the distance she heard the faint sound of a strumming guitar mingled with the deep melody of a man’s voice. A smile tipped the edges of her lips. She’d been listening to country-western music. Despite all her connections to the ancient civilizations, she loved country music. “Willie Nelson.”

  “Willie Nelson.”

  Laughter rose up in her. “Crazy.”

  “I never figured you for a fan.”

  “I’m not all dusty documents and dead languages.”

  “I know you aren’t.”

  A vibration under his words hinted at Merida. Color warmed her cheeks. She wanted to open her eyes and see his expression but didn’t dare.

  After a heavy hesitation, Lucas asked, “Was the sky clear or cloudy?”

  Welcoming the question, she allowed her mind to drift, and as she did, thousands of lights twinkled in her mind. She’d been so rushed to get to her father’s, she’d not really noticed the night sky full of stars that winked and sparkled like polished gems. It had been a lovely night, but she’d not really seen any of it. She’d barely heard a favorite song on the radio. How much of her life was she missing because of work? “Stars. Lots of stars. And the road was empty. I remember wishing I were making the drive during the day because it’s one of my favorite drives.”

  “When did you notice the headlights?”

  Ah, there was one of the pieces she could not connect to the others. Instead of being afraid, she felt safe cocooned in the car with Lucas. Memories couldn’t frighten her here. “I don’t think I noticed until shortly after I dialed you. I’m good at getting lost in thought.”

  “I’ve noticed.” A smile softened the coming words. “You called me as the headlights appeared.”

  “He could have been following me for a while, but I didn’t notice him.”

  “When did you notice him?”

  “I was near the bend in the road near the creek bed. I remember glancing up from the radio dial and looking in the mirror. I saw the lights, distant at first, and wasn’t surprised when they grew closer. I drive slowly when I’m distracted, which is why I assumed the other car was closing ground.”

  “The lights were bright.”

  “Very bright. He had on his high beams. I had to adjust my mirror because they were too bright. And when I took my hand off the wheel, he bumped me.” A cold chill rushed through her veins.

  The memory of scraping metal grated against her mind. The sound grew louder, filling her ears and startling her heart into a gallop.

  “You said you had to toss the phone aside.”

  “I needed both hands on the wheel.” Fear constricted her throat. “I was so afraid.”

  “What happened next?” His voice deepened, soothing her as if she were a wild horse.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t remember.”

  He held back his next question, giving her time to slow her heart and get control. “The music was still playing.”

  “Yes. Did you hear it?”

  “All I heard was your voice.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “The excitement in your voice and your promise to see me the next day with a full translation. And then the sound of a crash, and you screaming.” His grip on the wheel tightened until his knuckles were white.

  He’d never once frightened her. Not even when she’d seen him sitting alone in the café in Mexico. But in this moment, she knew she’d glimpsed a formidable warrior.

  Chapter 12

  Tuesday, December 23, 2 P.M.

  They arrived at the accident site a half hour later and Marisa felt tension building in her as they drew closer and closer. Silence wrapped around her like a shroud.

  As they approached a bend in the road, she saw the skid marks that cut sharply to the left. Those had been her skid marks.

  Lucas slowed the car before pulling off the side of the road onto the dirt shoulder. Marisa moistened her lips. “I used to love this stretch of road. Even at night. Now I’m not sure I can ever drive this again.”

  His wrist rested easily on the steering wheel. “I never figured you could be scared off easily.”

  The unspoken challenge nipped at her. “I’m not scared. But I had a near-death experience right here.”

  “Not the road or land’s fault. This is all about a driver who wanted to hurt you.”

  “You’re being far too logical.”

  “Logic has a way of cutting through the fear.”

  She looked at him and a half laugh startled from her. “I bet you’re never afraid.”

  “Only crazy people don’t feel fear from time to time. Fear keeps us alive and our senses sharp.”

  She unhooked her seat belt. “So I suppose you want me to get out.”

  Wide shoulders shrugged under his jacket. “If you want to.”

  The fear whispered in her ear. Told her to stay and run from the memories that were sure to bring heartache. “Fine. I’m getting out.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “You didn’t have to.” She opened the door, burrowed deeper in her coat as the cold air bit and snapped. Her shoes crunched along the dirt as she followed the skid marks marring the road. Like Dorothy on the Yellow Brick Road, she walked toe-to-toe, following the black rubber tire marks, hoping they’d lead her to the missing pieces in her life. As she grew closer to the edge of the road, tension tightened around he
r chest. Memories of the metal tearing and bending accelerated her heartbeat past the safe speed and straight to dangerous.

  Lucas hovered close, not speaking but a silent sentinel there to chase away the darkness.

  She moved to the ravine where the imprint of her tires remained gouged in the dirt. A trail of flattened brush burrowed down the hillside to the spot at the bottom of the ravine where she’d crashed. The air bag had deployed, smashing her face and jerking her against the seat.

  Marisa closed her eyes, remembering that she’d felt suffocated by the bursting bag that had saved her life and left her face bruised. She’d clung to consciousness as she’d heard Lucas’s voice still echoing from the cell phone that had been tossed about the car in the fall.

  “I’ll find you,” he’d said. “Hold on.”

  She’d clung to bruised and injured thoughts that wanted to scurry into the darkness. Her body ached from the battering. And then there’d been . . .

  “A flashlight. At the top of the hill.”

  “Who was it?”

  “It was the other driver, I think. I don’t know if he’d checked to see if I was okay or if he was coming to finish the job. I closed my eyes and didn’t move. I barely took a breath.” She raised fingertips to her breastbone. “My heart beat so loudly I thought he’d hear.”

  “Did he come down the hill?”

  “Partway. I barely lifted my lids, and I could see the light. But he stopped. His phone rang. An odd ringtone.”

  “Can you place it?”

  Eyes closed, she chased the memory that darted back into the shadows.

  “Don’t worry about it. What happened next?”

  “The light lingered on the car for a long time, and I was sure he’d come the rest of the way and kill me. But he didn’t. Finally, he turned and left.”

  “Just like that?”

  “I heard the rattle of his car as he drove off.”

  “He had a busted tire. He stopped at a gas station a few miles from here.”

  “Do you think it was an accident? I mean, why not finish the job?”