interested in, Annie.”
Annie loved the way he said her name, soft and special. But there was no way in the world she would ask what he meant by that enigmatic remark. “Perhaps we could pay for your medical expenses over a period of time.”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m insured.”
Okay, he’s insured, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t sue us. Should I ask, or assume that he won’t. Hmmm. Better to let sleeping dogs lie. “I hope you’re not going to stop us from doing our Nativity scene for the rest of the week. You’ve got to know it’s our last chance to earn some extra cash. And—”
He put up a halting hand. “I’d rather you didn’t go back to that sideshow again, but that’s not why I want to talk with you.”
“It’s not?” Annie’s heart was beating so fast she was afraid he might hear it.
“It’s not.”
“What do you want from us, then?”
“From your family . . . ,” he shrugged, “ . . . nothing.”
She reflected on his words. “From me?” she squeaked out.
A slow grin crept across his lips causing those incredible dimples to emerge. Annie had to clench her fists against the compulsion to touch each of the tiny indentations, to trace the outline of those kiss-me lips, to—
A low, masculine chuckle emerged from said lips. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, Annie-love,” he said in a husky undertone, “I’ll show you what I want.”
Annie-love? Mercy! “I don’t know what you mean,” she said huffily and backed away before he could tell her exactly how she’d been ogling him and what he would show her.
“You know what I mean, Annie,” he commented to her back. “ You know. ”
She didn’t know, for sure, but her imagination kicked in big-time. It was the fever, of course—that strange malady that seemed to affect only the two of them when they were in the same room. Hadn’t they complained of the heat all night? And they both knew it had nothing to do with the roaring fire in the fireplace. It was a fire of another kind entirely.
After that, in the midst of their decorating efforts, Clay helped Hank with his calculus homework. No one was surprised that a man with his financial background could actually perform the complicated equations. Then Jerry Lee expressed a curiosity about Clay’s electronic planner gadget. He showed him its various gee-whiz functions and answered questions about the stock market. Annie never realized that Jerry Lee was even interested in the investment world.
Throughout the evening, Aunt Liza coddled them all by bringing out trays of hot chocolate and her latest batch of Christmas sugar cookies. “Have another,” she kept urging Clay who swore his jeans were going to unsnap.
Now that was a picture Annie tried to avoid.
Finally, the tree decorating was complete.
“Turn off the lamps and flick on the tree lights,” Aunt Liza advised on cue. The darkened room looked beautiful under the sheen of the multi-colored lights. There was a communal sigh of appreciation from everyone in the room, even Clay.
“Is everyone ready?” Johnny asked, reaching over to turn up the volume on the old-fashioned stereo record player. It had been pumping out Elvis Christmas songs all night.
Her family began singing “Blue Christmas” along with Elvis . . . a less than harmonic but poignant custom that always brought tears to her eyes. It reminded her of her parents, now gone, and the yuletide rituals they’d started that would be carried on by Fallons forevermore. In some ways, it was as if their parents were still with them at times like this.
Annie glanced over to Clay to see how he was reacting to what he must consider a sappy custom. By the glow of the tree lights and the burning logs in the fireplace, she noticed no condescending smirk on his face. He seemed stunned.
Moving to the front of the sofa and leaning forward,
Annie loved the way he said her name, soft and special. But there was no way in the world she would ask what he meant by that enigmatic remark. “Perhaps we could pay for your medical expenses over a period of time.”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m insured.”
Okay, he’s insured, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t sue us. Should I ask, or assume that he won’t. Hmmm. Better to let sleeping dogs lie. “I hope you’re not going to stop us from doing our Nativity scene for the rest of the week. You’ve got to know it’s our last chance to earn some extra cash. And—”
He put up a halting hand. “I’d rather you didn’t go back to that sideshow again, but that’s not why I want to talk with you.”
“It’s not?” Annie’s heart was beating so fast she was afraid he might hear it.
“It’s not.”
“What do you want from us, then?”
“From your family . . . ,” he shrugged, “ . . . nothing.”
She reflected on his words. “From me?” she squeaked out.
A slow grin crept across his lips causing those incredible dimples to emerge. Annie had to clench her fists against the compulsion to touch each of the tiny indentations, to trace the outline of those kiss-me lips, to—
A low, masculine chuckle emerged from said lips. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, Annie-love,” he said in a husky undertone, “I’ll show you what I want.”
Annie-love? Mercy! “I don’t know what you mean,” she said huffily and backed away before he could tell her exactly how she’d been ogling him and what he would show her.
“You know what I mean, Annie,” he commented to her back. “ You know. ”
She didn’t know, for sure, but her imagination kicked in big-time. It was the fever, of course—that strange malady that seemed to affect only the two of them when they were in the same room. Hadn’t they complained of the heat all night? And they both knew it had nothing to do with the roaring fire in the fireplace. It was a fire of another kind entirely.
After that, in the midst of their decorating efforts, Clay helped Hank with his calculus homework. No one was surprised that a man with his financial background could actually perform the complicated equations. Then Jerry Lee expressed a curiosity about Clay’s electronic planner gadget. He showed him its various gee-whiz functions and answered questions about the stock market. Annie never realized that Jerry Lee was even interested in the investment world.
Throughout the evening, Aunt Liza coddled them all by bringing out trays of hot chocolate and her latest batch of Christmas sugar cookies. “Have another,” she kept urging Clay who swore his jeans were going to unsnap.
Now that was a picture Annie tried to avoid.
Finally, the tree decorating was complete.
“Turn off the lamps and flick on the tree lights,” Aunt Liza advised on cue. The darkened room looked beautiful under the sheen of the multi-colored lights. There was a communal sigh of appreciation from everyone in the room, even Clay.
“Is everyone ready?” Johnny asked, reaching over to turn up the volume on the old-fashioned stereo record player. It had been pumping out Elvis Christmas songs all night.
Her family began singing “Blue Christmas” along with Elvis . . . a less than harmonic but poignant custom that always brought tears to her eyes. It reminded her of her parents, now gone, and the yuletide rituals they’d started that would be carried on by Fallons forevermore. In some ways, it was as if their parents were still with them at times like this.
Annie glanced over to Clay to see how he was reacting to what he must consider a sappy custom. By the glow of the tree lights and the burning logs in the fireplace, she noticed no condescending smirk on his face. He seemed stunned.
Moving to the front of the sofa and leaning forward,
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