Christmas Getaway (13 page)

“S
O WHAT WAS IT LIKE
?” Jean's sisters asked her.

Jean had hugged her father—good old Dad never worried about a girl's appearance, he was just happy to see her—and reacquainted herself with Gigi, then gone to shower. The woman staring back at her in the mirror had been a trifle scary. Perhaps her mom's reaction was justified. Jean was just glad to be home among the people she knew and loved.

“What was what like?” Jean repeated softly. She was now seated near the fireplace, drinking cocoa. The soothing roar of her father watching football games on TV kept the last two days from her mind. “You mean, Molly's wedding?”

“Running off with Molly's brother,” Trudy said, her expression one of shock. “Mom says you eloped with Molly's older brother.”

“It was a pretend elopement, so we could stay at this lady's cabin in Kentucky.” In glossing over the events, Jean had told her mother that she and Sam had to leave quickly, and she wasn't even sure where Molly had gone. Jean was just glad her family had missed all the media coverage. During the holiday season, they only listened to Christmas music on the radio and her father's sports on TV.

“Mom says you shouldn't have caused such a stir at
Molly's wedding,” Starla offered. “She says it's not like you to be an attention-grabber.”

Jean had to giggle at that. She thought about being the target of gun-wielding groomsmen and figured she'd love to never be the focus of anyone's attention again. “You know how Mom is. Flair for the dramatic.”

Trudy nodded. “So, you and this Ranger—”

“I'm pretty sure it was just one of those job things,” Jean interrupted. “His job was to get me home safely. And here I am. End of story.”

“Oh.” Starla was clearly disappointed. “We were sort of hoping for a Chuck Norris, ‘Walker, Texas Ranger' type of brother-in-law.”

Jean shook her head. “Sorry. All you get for Christmas are endless shopping sprees with Mom.”

Starla looked at her. “We just want you to know that if you get a second chance at him, and you need some quick bridesmaids, we're on standby.”

Jean smiled. “Thanks. Just comfort Mom, okay? I didn't mean to ruin her Christmas.”

“She's baking. She'll be fine.” Trudy sighed. “Texas is awfully far away.”

Jean nodded, thinking about how much home meant to her. There was just something safe and secure about being in the place where she'd grown up. On the other hand, it had been so exciting to live in Sam's world for a while. “Maybe I should travel,” she said.

“You just got home,” Starla said. “Mom'll be upset if you dash off again.”

“I meant, take some time off.” Recuperate from being a maid of honor with hitmen after her. “See the world. Japan, maybe Ireland.”

Would seeing the world make Penn, Texas, seem dull by comparison? Or would being with Sam be excitement enough for her?

“Did you fall in love with him?” Trudy asked, sitting at her sister's feet. Starla scooted in next to her, all three of them soaking up the warmth of the log fire.

There were some things even a big sister should be able to keep to herself, Jean thought. But Trudy and Starla were looking at her so expectantly, she couldn't tell even a white lie. “Yes.”

They giggled, delighted that she'd confessed.

“Mom said you had,” Trudy offered. “She said no single woman came home from a wedding without being disappointed unless she already had her own man.”

“Oh, I don't have a man,” Jean told them. “Falling in love with a man and being with him forever are two very different things.” Look at Molly: one minute her friend was at the altar, and the next she was on the run.

Not exactly a happy ending.

“Not to be a party pooper, but I think I'll go to bed.” Jean stood and hugged her sisters. “Let me rest up, and then tomorrow we'll go get Mom and Dad their Christmas presents.”

“We're glad you're home, Jean,” Trudy said, and Starla nodded.

“When Mom said the wedding had been canceled, we were worried about you. And then when you showed up looking like you'd been running through a forest all night—”

Jean laughed. “Mom's letting her imagination run away with her.”

“You won't get married and move away, will you?” Trudy asked, her voice anxious.

Jean shook her head. “Now you're starting to sound like Mom.”

 

J
EAN HAD NEVER BEEN
so warm and toasty and comfortable. As good as being at home was, this was a different kind of protected feeling—something only twelve hours of sleep, her own familiar bed and a nice hard body holding her could make her feel.

Her eyes went wide in the darkness. Nice hard body holding her? In her parents' house? She started to squeal and leap from the bed but an equally hard arm held her down.

“Hang on, wildcat,” rumbled a deep voice she remembered well. She relaxed, her heart slowing down its crazy hammering because Sam was holding her.

But then she thought about her sisters sleeping down the hall. She tensed up all over again. “What are you doing here, Sam?” she whispered urgently. “How did you get in the house?”

“I came in just like Santa Claus, down the chimney.” He kissed her throat and let a hand roam over her hips. “There was no way I could wait until morning to hold you.”

“You came this far to get in my bed?”

He kissed her palm, then nipped at her fingertips. Slow heat burned up through her body. If she wasn't careful, she was going to end up giving in to Sam's special brand of persuasion and never know what was really going on. “You're not telling me everything.”

“I had to know that you were all right.”

She straddled him, holding him down and keeping his hands prisoner so he couldn't romance her into fast, delicious submission. “Tell me how you got in the house.”

“Your dad snoozes by the fireplace. He hadn't locked up yet.”

Her father's nighttime routine: nap first while Mom cleaned the kitchen, then when Mom went to bed, Dad made the rounds of locking up the house. “What makes you think I want you in my bed, Ranger?”

“You're not screaming, and believe me, I figured I was taking a chance. There are two unmarked cars patrolling the neighborhood.”

She felt fear tighten her muscles. “Didn't you catch the bad guy?”

“That was the easy part. Catching you may prove harder.”

Her heart was jumping around in her chest. “Please be serious, Sam. I can't stand the thought that you're still worried someone has followed me and aren't telling me.”

It seemed forever before he spoke again. Jean could tell he was weighing how much to tell her.

“The police have lost Connor's trail.”

Her muscles went slack from shock. “How did that happen?”

“Connor O'Bannion is a cop. Dirty cops have a lot of practice at outthinking the system. Even good cops can get caught off guard, and O'Bannion knows the ropes.”

“So you're saying Molly could have been followed.”

“I don't know.”

“And possibly my family's in danger because I'm here. Hence the patrol.”

He removed his hands from under her knees—which wasn't too difficult since she knew what magic he could do with those hands—and cradled her to him.

“It's a lot of guesswork,” Sam said. “My only assignment was protecting you. It was a job I certainly enjoyed doing.”

And then he made love to her, obliterating all the worries and fears Jean had, and replacing them with wonder and delight as she let her body melt into his…for the moment.

In the morning when she awakened, she wasn't surprised at all to find that Sam was gone. Somehow she'd known that something so perfect could only be a dream.

 

S
AM DIDN'T WANT
to scare Jean. He didn't want to ruin her Christmas. But he was worried, no question about it. If O'Bannion thought Jean had information that could be used against him, and he'd put a hit on her, there was no reason for him to suddenly change his mind and play nice.

So Sam was here in his role of bodyguard. He shouldn't have made love to Jean—that was definitely crossing over the line of professional conduct. But was he falling in love?

She had this strange effect on him, making him think dumb stuff like how bright this holiday season was. Why would he think that, when the two women in his life were in danger?

And that's when Sam knew he was done like a Christmas turkey.

When a man started thinking about the two significant people in his life, his sister and the woman he had made love to, in the singular sense of
in his life,
it was all over but the Christmas caroling.

Yet there was no way to make a happy ending out of it. Molly was off running from Connor, and Jean should be doing the same. He was going to tell her and last night would have been the perfect time. But greedy guy that he was, he wanted to make love to her and burst her bubble afterward, and then he'd chickened out altogether.

But the fact was, Jean couldn't stay here.

Not until Connor O'Bannion was caught and put in jail, his cronies with him.

Great. It's really going to warm the cockles of her little Christmas-loving heart when I tell her she can't celebrate Christmas with her family. She's gonna love that
.

And Jean was also going to know that he'd held off telling her. Make love to Jean, forgo bad news, leave like a coward in the night…then what? How the hell was he going to tell her?

She might not ever forgive him for either of his transgressions.

But it really didn't matter. He couldn't afford to let emotions get involved. The fact was, he had to do his job. He had to tell her she couldn't stay here. The nightmare wasn't over, and he didn't know when it would be.

“T
HERE'S SOMETHING
I have to tell you,” Jean announced to her mother in the kitchen the next morning.

“Like the fact that we had a visitor last night?” Her mom smiled. “A gentleman caller?”

Jean froze. “How did you know?”

“He left roses.” She pointed to a vase on the sideboard table. “Santa doesn't leave roses. Well, he used to,” her mom said with a girlish giggle. “But I happen to know my Santa was snoozing in his recliner last night, so it had to have been the one you know.”

Jean stared at the full-blossomed, red roses.

“Why didn't you at least introduce your friend to your father? He was almost certainly still awake.”

“It didn't occur to me.” Jean doubted her father had been awake when Sam crawled into her bed. She went to look at the flowers, a trifle amazed. Sam hadn't struck her as the roses type, but if he was turning romantic on her—and at Christmas—that indeed must mean something.

“There was a note.”

Jean took the handwritten envelope from her mother and opened it.
“Dear Jean, I hope Santa is good to you…Sam,”
she read out loud.

“Oh, that's sweet,” her mother said, with all the pleasure
of a mom who thinks her eldest daughter has finally found someone who just might be “the one.”

It was certainly sweet, but not very illuminating. In the meantime, what was she supposed to do? Believe that she and Sam had a romance? Be happy that it was a one-night stand? Think that her life could just go on as it had before the wedding getaway and falling in love with Sam?

Gigi came over for a pat, which Jean was only too happy to give her. “You realize you're no good,” she whispered into the dog's fur, enjoying the comforting feel of a girl's best friend. “You must have flunked Guard Dog 101. You could have at least gnawed on his leg a little before he walked out with my heart.”

Gigi smiled a satisfied doggie smile, only too pleased to take in Jean's confidence as long as she was being cuddled. “Strangely, I feel depressed,” she told her mother, and got a simple nod in reply.

“Shopping's the only cure for the blues!” her mother suggested. “Let's go get matching sweaters.” And so they left with her sisters to find five red sweaters for the entire family for a Christmas photo. Gigi already had a red bow, and since she was useless, Jean thought, not even bothering to alert the family that an intruder had been in the house—sneaked into her bed!—the dog wasn't getting a new one.

However, Jean relented when she found the cutest bandana with green holly against a red background. “This would be perfect for Gigi,” she said, and her mother and sisters agreed. Jean was beginning to feel better until she remembered that Sam would most likely insist she shouldn't be out shopping—in fact, she was quite jumpy—but she'd decided she couldn't allow her favorite time of the year to be spoiled by paranoia. Besides, Sam had rolled out of her bed and apparently out of her life—obviously he wasn't too worried about her safety anymore.

Men. All derring-do and then they disappear.

Even if he hadn't left, though, what would she have done with him? What was she really hoping for here? Jean wasn't certain. She simply knew that Sam had put the glow in her holiday season in a special way she had never before experienced.

“When do we get to meet Sam?” Starla asked.

“What are you getting him for Christmas?” Trudy wanted to know, and then ran on to the next thought. “Wonder what he's getting you?”

Her sisters seemed to think the possibilities were endless, judging by the delighted grins on their faces. Her mother had a secret smile, enjoying their sisterly badgering.

Jean hated to ruin their fairy tale, but her Ranger wasn't the average walk-up-to-the-door-and-introduce-himself-to-the-family kind of guy.

It would never happen.

 

I
T WAS NOW OR NEVER
, Sam decided, time to make everyone unhappy.

He stood on Jean's porch and rang the doorbell. To his surprise, she opened the door herself. “Hi,” she said, not entirely enthusiastically, but since he wasn't smiling, maybe she knew this wasn't exactly a social call.

“Hi.” He tried to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat. Jean had never looked more beautiful. She wore a pretty red sweater and cream-colored slacks. Her hair was long and straight, and he could just detect the twinkle of some sparkly earrings.

“Come to introduce yourself to the family,” Jean asked, “by way of the front door?”

“Yes and no,” Sam said. “Can I come in?”

She let him in, and he resisted the urge to pull her to him
for a fast, hard kiss. He didn't like it when she was so stiff and formal—and yet, she seemed to have realized something had changed.

“Is Molly all right?” Jean asked.

He nodded. “As far as I know.”

They hesitated, awkward with each other.

“Thank you for the flowers,” Jean said, but he shook his head.

“Don't thank me. It wasn't near as much as I wanted to do.”

She seemed to think his words over. After a moment, she said, “So what's on your mind?”

“I need to talk to the whole family,” Sam said.

“At your own risk.” She walked into the living room. He followed, more nervous than he'd ever been in his life. Her family was involved in their Christmas preparations, putting bows on the tree and tinsel on the branches. Dr. Norville was hanging the Christmas star.

“Everyone, this is Sam Broadbent, Molly's big brother,” Jean said, and the room went utterly silent.

“Wow,” Trudy said, “he's hot, Jean.”

“Trudy!” Jean exclaimed, but her father came forward to shake his hand and her mother rushed to envelop Sam in a hug. Sam's heart clunked like an old machine coming to life.

This was getting harder by the moment. What he had to say was going to ruin their Christmas.

“I'm not really here on a social call,” Sam said, and the whole family seemed to freeze, even Gigi, who'd been sniffing around his boots.

“Oh?” Jean's mother said. “Do sit down, anyway. We want to hear all about Molly and what she's doing. Is she all right now that she canceled her wedding? I think it's so smart of her to do that. You know, it's much easier and cheaper to call off a wedding than to have a change of heart later.”

Jean's eyes went huge. Sam realized Jean had told her family very little about what had happened.

That was going to make his job even harder. How could he tell them that Jean couldn't stay here, in fact, had to get away, far away, when they believed Molly had simply gotten cold feet?

Jean shook her head at him surreptitiously, and that's when he got it: He was to leave her family living in their uncomplicated, happy world.

There was something to be said for protecting people from the harsh reality of life, but that meant Jean had been bearing the burden of the danger she was in by herself.

“Well,” Sam began, trying to think how to cover himself, “I haven't actually talked to Molly yet, but I know she did the right thing.”

Jean nodded in approval of his hedge.

This wasn't going to work. The police had specifically suggested that Jean get the hell out of New England, and better yet out of the States until they figured out where Connor was. But this family lived a gentle existence, and it was their holiday. Dumping the news on them that their daughter had a price on her head wouldn't be anything they'd be prepared to hear.

Jean had to get away.

“Jean,” he said slowly, “Dr. and Mrs. Norville, I wasn't going to do this right now, I wish I had more time but it's the Christmas season, and…” He realized he was doing this badly. In fact, once he'd realized what he was going to do, his heart had given a joyful leap. “I was wondering what you might think about me…taking your daughter away for the holidays.”

Jean stared at him. They all stared at him, in their matching red sweaters. He felt like a black-cloaked ghoul among holiday cherubim.

“Well, it's up to Jean—” her father began, but his wife interrupted. “Do you mean on a vacation?” Mrs. Norville asked.

“I meant on a honeymoon,” Sam said, looking into Jean's eyes. “A wedding getaway.”

“Elope?” her mother said, stunned, and Sam nodded.

“Ohhhh,” Jean's sisters chimed, and Trudy said, “Jean's always wanted to go to Ireland.”

Mrs. Norville started to cry, and even Dr. Norville's eyes got misty, but Jean herself looked a little mad. She wasn't buying it—she was reading between his lines.

“Excuse me, everyone,” she said, taking Sam by the arm. “Daddy, Mom, if you don't mind, we're going to go outside to talk.”

“Take all the time you need, dear,” her mother said, blowing her nose, and her sisters snickered. Jean ushered Sam outside and into a car he'd either borrowed or stolen—the plates were from Vermont. Then she realized it was an unmarked squad car and really got ticked. “How
dare
you make my parents think you were proposing to me?”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Sam demanded.

“You're going to get my mom all worked up! What mother doesn't dream of the day when one of her daughters gets a marriage proposal!” Jean looked as if she couldn't believe Sam could be so dense. “You're clearly here on business, so why don't you just give me the update instead of going through this charade? It's guaranteed to break my parents' hearts.”

“The police think you should leave the country. Now,” Sam clarified. “As soon as you can pack your bag.”

“I'm tired of the police,” Jean said. “I'm tired of running, and I'm tired of you popping in and out of my life.”

“Precisely,” Sam said. “That's why we'll elope.”

“I don't need an eloping bodyguard,” she snapped.

“Who better to run off with than me?” he said.

“I don't want to run.” Jean crossed her arms. “I'm not going anywhere. It's Christmas, and I'm staying right here with my family, where I belong. I know you don't like celebrating Christmas, you like being out in the middle of nowhere, brooding in an empty house, but
this
is Christmas to me.” She gestured to all the two-story, fully-wreathed and lit houses on the block—very traditional, very New England. “Why would I leave this?”

“Because if you don't, you could be dead,” Sam said simply, “and that will upset your parents more than when you walk away from our elopement.”

“Let me get this straight,” Jean said slowly, “we're going to tell my parents we're eloping, and we're going to make a great escape. When the coast is clear, I'm going to reprise Molly's excuse that I just wasn't ready to be married, which you've already heard my mother say is a wise decision to make.”

“No harm, no foul,” Sam said, his heart tearing because he realized Jean hadn't gotten it. Marrying him was the furthest thing from her mind. “Everybody wins.”

“It's not exactly what I had in mind,” Jean said slowly, and Sam shook his head.

“Me, neither.” He was sadder than he wanted to be. Jean clearly wasn't ready to think marriage; she'd gone totally pale when he'd begun to ask her father for her hand. It hurt, because it had taken a monstrous amount of bravery to utter those words in front of their red-sweatered clan. He didn't think he'd ever done anything more difficult than try to propose marriage.

He felt as if he'd misfired terribly.

Jean got out of the car. He got out, too, watching her walk away. She went up the steps, ignoring the snow and the ice
patches. He could tell she was mad; the snow practically melted as she hurried to the door. She hesitated outside, thinking through her options. Sam could tell she was tempted to walk inside and slam that door in his face. But she couldn't do that because of her family.

He had to express his real emotions before he lost her forever. “Hey,” he said softly, and she turned.

“Jean, I love you.”

Those blue eyes he loved went wide; the breath that she'd been snorting like fire, making plumes in the icy cold, seemed to stop in that moment. “You do?”

He nodded. “Oh, hell, yeah. With all my heart.” Suddenly inspired, he scraped a large heart in the snow with his boot heel. “Like that. Only better, because you melted my heart a long time ago.”

She looked at him. “You're just saying this because—”

He bounded up the steps, sweeping her into his arms. “Nope. I'm in love with you. The thought of living without you isn't a thought I want to have.”

Her lips curved softly. “Sam Broadbent, you don't know what you're getting yourself into. Years of decorating Christmas trees and hanging lights and being a family man.”

He kissed her, his whole body singing with joy. “I like what I'm getting myself into.”

“I love you,” she told him, “even if you're the overly cautious type.”

He laughed. “First we run, then we argue about who's the most cautious.”

“Where are we running to?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Sam grinned. This Christmas stuff wasn't going to be so bad at all. “Maybe we can run to Australia to check up on
Molly? Or we can go wherever you want. No matter where we are, it's going to be home as long as I'm with you,” he said, kissing her.

“Australia sounds wonderful,” Jean said, and with a joyous smile, Sam carried her inside to tell her family they had another reason to celebrate the season.