Christmas Steele (4 page)

“No,” she blurted before she could think
about it.

“Hmm.” His expression was as neutral as his
tone. She couldn’t ask him what he was thinking because the clerk
had scanned his purchases and it was time to pay. Lacy absently
grabbed the grocery sack. Jason slipped his arm around her
shoulders again, leading her toward his car.

“What’s been going on in your life, Red?” he
asked.

Lacy thought of all her ingested popcorn and
three AM infomercials. “Oh, you know, a lot of late nights. What
about you?”

“Work,” he said. “Every day. I’ve been
working a lot of overtime.”

“Why? Is there that much crime at
Christmas?”

“There’s a surprising amount,” he said. “But
that’s not why. I always volunteer to work extra shifts over the
holidays so the guys who have families can get it off.”

“Don’t you want to see your family?” she
asked.

He snorted a laugh. “No.”

“What about your girlfriend?” she asked.

“What about her?” They reached his car and
stopped outside the passenger door, facing each other.

“Doesn’t she want to see you?” Lacy was proud
of the way she kept her voice neutral, but in case her eyes
betrayed her jealousy, she kept them focused on his chest.

Jason wasn’t having any of that, though. He
tipped her face up so he could see her eyes. “When I find one, I’ll
ask her,” he said. His tone bordered on smugness, but Lacy was so
relieved she didn’t call him on it. “There is someone I really want
to see this Christmas, though,” he added, resting his hands on her
hips and tipping her back so she leaned against his car.

She knew she was walking into a trap, but she
couldn’t help herself. “Who?” Her palms slithered up to rest
against his chest, the grocery sack dangling lifelessly from her
thumb.

His lips curved into a devilish smile as he
dropped his gaze to her lips. “Santa. He’s been evading me for
twenty six years. I have a good feeling about this Christmas.”

Lacy slowly shook her head. “Not gonna
happen, Jason. You have to be good to see Santa, and I’m pretty
sure you’re on the naughty list.”

“Someone’s been spreading lies about me; I’m
angelic.” An expectant hush fell as the usual tension began to
bounce between them. They seemed to be waiting for something, but
neither knew what. “What do you want for Christmas, Red?” Jason
whispered, gently tracing his finger down her cheek.

This,
Lacy thought,
without the
accompanying baggage and terror.
“World peace,” she
replied.

Jason chuckled, breaking the spell between
them. “Selfless of you,” he said, opening her door and waiting
until she was safely inside to close it.

Chapter 5

Jason’s comment about Christmas reminded Lacy
of the beautiful locket she had received. Thinking of the intimate
inscription was enough to warm her cheeks, even though his car was
freezing. What was the tactful way to ask someone if he had bought
a locket declaring his love?

“Have you finished your Christmas shopping?”
she tried.

“Who do I have to buy for? Except you, I
guess,” he added thoughtfully, almost as an afterthought.

Lacy frowned. Did that mean he had bought for
her or still needed to? Her mind reacted to that question with a
panicked tangent. She needed to buy him a present. What on earth
was she going to buy for him?

“What do you want for Christmas, Jason?” she
asked.

“World peace,” he replied, flashing her a
grin before returning his eyes to the road.

“No, really,” she pressed.

“A night off and a whole lot of sleep,” he
said, sounding weary.

She reached over, resting her hand on his
leg. “You’re tired,” she said, her voice oozing sympathy.

“Nothing gets by you, Red,” he said, though
he laid his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze. The warmth and
roughness of his palm distracted her again, causing her to wonder
of she had some specialized from of ADD, triggered by being near a
lot of testosterone. Why was it every time she got within ten feet
of Jason Cantor she couldn’t think straight? He wasn’t
that
sexy.

She turned to study him as he drove. Though
he was only twenty six, she could pick out the occasional silver
strand scattered throughout his dark hair. His lashes were thick
and long, bending upward as if he had curled them. She couldn’t see
his eyes in the darkness, but she didn’t have to look at them to
know they were an intriguing kaleidoscope of colors, predominantly
green and blue with flecks of gold and brown. His lips were so lush
they appeared stuck in a perpetual pout, and he always had an
alluring crop of stubble on his cheeks and chin. Who was she
kidding? He was beautiful.

“You’re staring,” he said, not taking his
eyes from the road. “Why are you staring?”

“Because you’re pretty,” she answered
honestly.

He grimaced. “Pretty? Can’t you pick another
adjective?”

“Yes, Jason, please let me give an ode to
your glaring good looks,” she said sarcastically.

“Maybe if you did, I might reciprocate,” he
said stroking his thumb gently along her hand.

“No, thank you,” Lacy said, though she was
dying of curiosity to know exactly what Jason thought of her
appearance. She assumed he found her attractive because why else
would he occasionally kiss her? But he had never come right out and
said how he felt about her looks, or anything else for that matter.
Maybe that should be her Christmas present. She almost worked up
the nerve to ask for an honest assessment of their relationship,
and then she remembered he would probably seek reciprocation. Lacy
definitely didn’t want to be honest about her feelings for him, not
even with herself.

“Hey, you passed the coffee shop,” she said,
turning to glance at it through the back window.

“Like I said, nothing gets by you, Red,”
Jason said. “I thought we could have coffee at my house. It’s more
private.”

It was funny how three little words could
make her mouth go dry and the bottom drop out of her stomach.
It’s more private.
Was he inviting her for coffee or
coffee
? If so, would she refuse either? She tried to
remember the last time she and Jason had kissed. Each time it
happened, she vowed it would be the last, but then she found
herself giving in to the moment and kissing him again. It would
help her resolve if he wasn’t so good at it.

“Is that okay? I haven’t seen you in two
weeks.” He lifted her hand and kissed it.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak in
case her voice shook.

They finished the short drive in silence,
though Jason kept hold of her hand. She carried the grocery sack,
following him as he let her into his house. Turning on lights as he
went, he led her to the kitchen.

“Want me to make the coffee?” she
offered.

“I’m not sure how to politely decline without
offending you, so I’ll just say no.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because I taught you how to make coffee. You
haven’t had enough practice, and I’m picky about my coffee.”

“What aren’t you picky about?” she muttered.
He was a neat-freak, health-food-loving perfectionist as far as she
was concerned.

“Women,” he replied, giving her the
heart-stopping devilish smile he used whenever he was teasing
her.

“How could you be picky when you cycle
through so many?” she asked. “There are only so many women in the
world.”

“Jealousy suits you,” he said.

“I am not jealous,” Lacy lied.

“I don’t know where you think I meet all
these mythical women, or when you think I have time to go out with
them. I told you I’ve been working nonstop the last two weeks.”

“You weren’t working the night of the FOP
banquet,” she said, biting her tongue for bringing it up when his
smug smile returned.

“That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?
It’s driving you crazy trying to figure out who my date was.”

“No, it’s not,” Lacy lied again. “Have I
asked about her? No. What you do is your business. We’re not
together.”

“You’ve made that clear on a number of
occasions,” he said. “What about you?” The coffee began to brew. He
turned to face her, resting his hips against the counter and
crossing his arms over his chest. “What were you doing there that
night with him dressed like that?”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like it was a real date. I thought you said
you and he are just friends.”

“We are,” Lacy insisted.

“Then why were you dressed that way?”

“What way?” she asked, exasperated with the
line of questioning.

“Sexy,” he said. “Do you always dress that
way when you go out with a pastor?”

“Who was your date?” she countered.

They stood facing each other in a silent
standoff, each one waiting for the other to blink first. Finally
Jason’s face split into a slow smile. “What’s wrong with me that
I’ve missed this?” he said. Grasping her hand, he pulled her close
against his chest, letting go of her hand to wrap his arms around
her waist.

“Tell me what’s between you two, and I’ll
tell you who my date was,” Jason said, his lips tantalizingly close
to Lacy’s mouth.

“I’ve already told you what’s between us.
We’re friends.”

“I don’t think I believe you,” Jason
murmured. “I think there’s something more there.”

“Who was your date?” she whispered, sliding
her arms around his neck until her hands tangled in his hair,
tugging him closer.

“Later,” he said, and then he kissed her.

Being kissed by Jason always made Lacy feel
like she was a patch of prairie grass being consumed by wildfire.
There was never any buildup, just an explosion of sensation so that
she became oblivious to the world around her. That was why it took
a while for the beeping noise to register, though Jason didn’t
notice it, either. Reluctantly, Lacy pulled away.

“What is that?” she asked.

“I don’t know; it’s like that every time I
kiss you,” Jason replied, sounding as shaky as Lacy felt.

She laughed, clearing some of the haze from
her mind. “I meant that beeping sound. What is it?”

Jason frowned, straightening. “The coffee’s
done.”

“It beeps to let you know it’s ready?” she
asked.

“It’s European,” he said, as if that
explained everything. He poured two mugs of coffee, either
remembering that she took hers black or forgetting to ask if she
took it any other way. She watched in amusement while he dosed his
mug with liberal amounts of cream and sugar.

“Why are you laughing at me?” he asked.

“It’s always a little funny to see Mr.
Supercop add a half cup of sugar to his coffee.”

“The oddest things amuse you,” he said.

Lacy thought Tosh would’ve gotten the joke,
but she didn’t say as much. She was careful not to mention one in
the other’s presence because they tended to become irrationally
upset.

Jason led the way into his living room,
amusing her again when he supplied a coaster for her coffee.

“What’s funny about not liking water rings on
my nice wooden furniture?” he asked.

“Nothing at all,” Lacy said. She was glad he
wasn’t a slob; she simply found it funny that he was often so
different from her expectations. Most of the time he acted more
like a fussy old woman than a robust young bachelor. Not that she
would tell him.

“Why are you sitting all the way over there?”
he asked, eying the distance between them. “Come here.” He half
lifted and half dragged her closer until her legs were draped over
his and his arms were around her. “Where did we leave off in the
kitchen?”

“You were telling me about your date from the
FOP banquet,” she prompted, smiling when he gave her a squeeze.

“I don’t think that was where we left off,”
he said.

“I’m pretty sure it was,” Lacy said. She
didn’t want to spend the evening in a makeout session that would
get them no closer to resolving the issues between them and might
instead lead them somewhere they shouldn’t go.

“You are the queen of mixed signals, you know
that?” he asked, though he didn’t sound angry. He traced his finger
gently over her face. “You say you don’t want to be with me, and
then you kiss me like you just kissed me, and it confuses me.”

“You know how it is, Jason.” She began slowly
tracing his face, too. Not because she wanted to reciprocate the
gentle touch but because she so badly wanted to touch him, to
absorb as much of him as she could. How was it possible to want
something and not want something so much and all at the same
time?

“I’d like to meet the guy who did a number on
you. I think he and I could spend an interesting afternoon
together,” he said. His angry tone belied his relaxed expression.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the couch, a gentle
half-smile on his lips. “That feels good,” he added in a soft
whisper.

“Don’t pretend it’s all me,” Lacy said.
“You’re afraid of commitment, too.”

“Not afraid,” he said, so sleepy he almost
sounded punch drunk. “Terrified.”

Lacy smiled and didn’t reply as her finger
kept up its slow journey on the contours of his face. Not more than
a minute later, he was snoring. She stopped her exploration of his
features and rested her head on the couch, studying him. He really
was beautiful, but he wasn’t hers, not really. They were friends
who walked the line of a tricky impasse, occasionally dipping their
toes in forbidden waters but never going in more than ankle deep.
Someday he would meet someone he couldn’t live without, and he
would fall in love. Someday Lacy would be ready to move on from
Robert’s cruel treatment, and she would find someone, too. But it
wouldn’t be Jason; that much she knew. They were too different to
get along on any long term basis.

Suddenly she was fighting back the urge to
cry. Swallowing hard, she tried to clear her melancholy thoughts.
Christmas was really doing a number on her this year if it was
making her this emotional. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut,
pinching back the tears that wanted to find release. She would not
cry on the couch at Jason’s house like some sort of crazy person.
She would go home and eat prune cake and cry in front of
infomercials like normal people did.