Lovers & Liars (16 page)

“Okay.”
She cowered before his dark expression.

“Never
turned down a freebie…”

“I
get it. I was willing. No strings attached.”

He
let out a breath and relaxed. “Good. Don’t want any misunderstandings.”

“We’ve
had enough of those,” she murmured, pulling the sheet up to cover her chest.

He
chuckled. “Hiding from me? A little late for that, isn’t it? Gee, something
comes to mind, yeah, closing the barn door after the horse has escaped?”

Don’t get huffy. Don’t let him rile
you. He’s looking for that. Don’t give him a reason to reject you again.
She put on a smile she hoped was sweet. “Good analogy.”

He
cocked an eyebrow, his gaze locked on her face. “You’re in a good mood this
morning.”

“Why
not? I had amazing sex last night.” She stretched, letting the covers fall to her
waist. “I feel great.”
Don’t fight with
him, seduce him.

She
tried to suppress a smile as she watched his gaze settle on her breasts. He
licked his lips before looking at her face.

“If
we were alone, we could have an encore performance,” she whispered, grinning.

Before
he could answer, there was a sharp rap. They both jumped.

“Sun’s
up. Pancakes and bacon in five. Don’t be late.” Clare called through the closed
door.

Gunther’s
lips parted in a wide smile. “Ma makes the best pancakes in the world.” He
threw the comforter down and pushed to his feet. Hopping around on the cold
floor, he opened his closet. Pulling out a pair of jeans and his bathrobe, he
threw the robe to her. Watching him slip the jeans on with nothing underneath
made Erica’s mouth go dry. She wanted to touch him.

“Come
on. She’s a fanatic about being on time.”

“I
can’t go down like this!” Erica scurried out of bed, thrust her arms into the
sleeves of the robe, and padded quickly back to her room. She jumped into a
running suit, brushed her teeth and hair, and made her way downstairs.

The
aroma coming from the kitchen was tantalizing. The scent of bacon frying mixed
with melting butter.

“German
Apple Pancakes are my specialty,” Clare said.

She knows I was in Gunther’s room
and hasn’t said a word.
Erica tried to be nonchalant about
their night together, but found she was embarrassed in front of his mother anyway.

Gunther
poured two mugs of coffee and refilled his mother’s. He handed one to Erica.
He’s just being polite in front of his mom.
If she wasn’t here, he’d probably send me packing and without even a
cuppa
Joe!

“Lots
to do today,” Clare said, setting down two plates filled with pancakes and
bacon in front of the lovers.

“Like
what, Ma?” Gunther took a sip.

“First,
we have a ton of presents to wrap. I’ll set up the dining room. Like to play
Christmas music while I do it, too. And I haven’t decorated the tree yet.”

The
phone interrupted her.

“Morning,
Hank. What? No, sorry. Not today. My son and his…friend are here. I’ll miss
you, too. Maybe in a couple of days. What? Of course, I hope you’re coming.
Good. You can meet him then. Bye. Yeah, love you, too.”

At
the sound of the word “love” from his mother’s lips, Gunther’s head snapped up.
“Who was that, Ma?” He asked.

“Just
a…friend.”

“Love
you, too? Sounds like more than a friend to me.”

“He’s
my friend, like Erica is yours,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Gunther
choked on his coffee. Erica burst out laughing.

“Who
the hell is this guy? I’ll bust his balls.”

“Gunther,
take it easy. I’m single and over twenty-one. I can do what I like and sleep
with whoever I want, just like you.”

“You’re
sleeping with this guy?” Gunther rose up.

“I
wasn’t going to mention it, but you pushed the issue.”

“I
didn’t push anything. I’m gonna push this guy off a cliff if he lays a hand, even
a finger, on you!”

“Easy,
son.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “I love that younger people always
think they invented sex. How do you think you got here, anyway?”

“I
choose not to think about that.” Gunther kept his gaze on his plate. Erica
stifled a giggle.

“Hank
is my boyfriend. We meet for breakfast at the diner three mornings a week. He’s
coming to the buffet on Christmas Eve. You can meet him then.”

“Meet
him or kill him,” Gunther muttered, dropping back into his chair and focusing
on his pancakes again. Erica ate in silence, watching everything.

“You
will be polite, Gunther Alexander Quill!” Clare shot him a sharp look.

“Okay,
okay.”

“He’s
dying to meet my famous son.” Clare sat down and dug into the food.

“Yeah?
Maybe he’s okay after all.” Both women chuckled.

“There
are carolers tonight. I have small gifts for them. Need to do some baking and
cooking today, too. Only a day left till Christmas Eve.”

“I
can help, Mrs. Quill,” Erica offered.

“Please,
call me Clare. Do you cook, Erica?” The young woman nodded, as her mouth was
filled with bacon.

“She’s
not going to be here then, Ma. She’s leaving tomorrow. Remember?”

“Gunther!
You’re kicking her out on Christmas Eve?” Clare raised her eyebrows.

Silence
filled the room. Erica swallowed, hoping the food would push the lump in her
throat down.
If he can do that, then it’s
truly over. I will give up if I’m sent away on Christmas Eve.
She blinked a
few times to keep tears at bay and kept her head lowered, her gaze on her plate.
Cooking for Christmas would be wonderful.

“This
is my house. I say who stays and who goes. And I say she stays. Stay as long as
you like, Erica,” Clare said.

Gunther
glared at his mother.

“Thank
you, but no, Mrs.…Clare. If Gunther wants me to leave, then I’ll obey his
wishes.” Erica managed to force the rest of her meal down and put her dish in
the sink. She washed it.

“No
need for that, hon. I’ll put it in the dishwasher.”

“Please
excuse me, I’ve got to book a flight for tomorrow.” A hollowness inside nagged
at her. She missed her mom and the family they had once been. Being here was a
sore reminder.
Maybe staying would be
harder. It’s better to leave. I’ll fall in love with Clare, too. It just makes
it more difficult to go.
Pain ripped through her heart as memories of
holidays with her mother flashed through her mind. She yearned to recreate
those.

When
she had heard about Gunther’s mother, she had hoped she’d get a chance to meet
her and maybe even get folded into this little family. But now that wasn’t
going to happen. She sighed, accepting the inevitable.

The
silence was deafening. Clare scowled at her son, who didn’t make eye contact
with either woman. In her room, Erica wanted to throw herself down on the bed
and sob. She was out of ideas, ready to give up. But she knew the look on his
face meant business. She needed to find a flight out of Portland on Christmas
Eve.

Quiet
tears streamed down her cheeks as she opened her phone and checked her notebook
for the correct number. The sound of someone clearing their throat drew her
attention. She looked up to see Gunther filling the doorway. He leaned against
the jamb, his face a confusion of emotions. Erica wiped her cheeks with her
hands.

“Sorry.”

“You
can stay.
Through Christmas.
But no
longer.”

“Are
you sure?”

“Ma
is sure I’m going to be damned to hell for sending you away on Christmas Eve.”

“You’re
not sending me away. I’m choosing not to stay where I’m not wanted. It’s my
choice. Your mother already said I could stay. So, you don’t have to make
this…this…grand gesture. It’s okay.”
I’m
lying. It isn’t okay. It’s not okay at all.

“I
already said you could stay. If you leave now,
Ma’ll
have a fit.”

She
nodded. Words caught in her throat. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Last
night, he had wanted her with a passion unequaled by any of their previous
encounters.
Was he just horny?
She had
thought he had forgiven her, but she was wrong.
Damn, I’m tired of being wrong.
“I’ll stay out of your way.”

He
nodded. She picked up her cell and dialed.

“New
England Airlines?
Yeah. I’m looking for a flight out of
Portland, Maine the day after Christmas. Yeah. I’ll hold.”

Chapter Eleven

Gunther
opened the refrigerator, then the cabinets. He was hungry, but not for food.
Can I substitute food for sex?
A holiday
tin sat on the counter. He removed the lid and grabbed two Christmas cookies.

“Are
you poaching?” Clare’s voice had a teasing quality.

Gunther
smiled at her. “Caught with my hand in the cookie jar.” He chuckled.

“Where’s
Erica?” she asked, pouring two cups of coffee and handing one to her son.

“Making
plane reservations for after Christmas.” He sat down at the kitchen table.

“What’s
going on, son?” Clare looked hard at him.

“I
don’t know, Ma.” Gunther gazed at his hands, then at the remaining cookie.

“Do
you love that girl?”

“I
don’t know.”

“You’re
no kid. You’re old enough to know how you feel.” Clare brought the tin to the
table and took off the top. Gunther helped himself to two more.

“You
still make the best cookies,” he said, munching on a crescent-shaped
confection.

“Stop
stalling. You’re breaking her heart…and I’d guess, your own, too.”

He
looked up at her.
Hit the nail on the
head, as usual.
“I can’t trust her. She’s lied too many times. How do I
know she really loves me?”

“I
can tell she really loves you. Hell, no one is that good an actress!” She laughed.

“How
can you be so sure?” He studied her face. There was no one he trusted like his
mother.

“There’s
nothing in it for her to come here and eat crow like she’s done. Damn
humiliating, if you ask me. And warming your bed last night, on top of
everything. Why would she do that? You’ve done what you can for her
professionally.”

“She’s
alone. It’s a place to come for the holidays.”

“Oh,
crap, Gunther. Just crap. No one flies across the country to mooch a Christmas
dinner. She came to see you. Be with you. Beg your forgiveness. You’re not an
easy man to cross.”

“Damn
straight.”

“Is
that why you’ve never married? That poor girl,
Dorrie
.
What a shame! And what you did to her. Geez.” Clare shook her head.

“That’s
water under the bridge, Ma.
Dorrie’s
happily married
now.”

“Thank
God for that! Are you going to spend the rest of your life alone?”

“Maybe.”
He pushed the last lemon bar around on his plate.

“Don’t.
You’ll regret it. Especially when it’s too late.”

“You’re
proof it’s never too late to find someone.”

“Thanks
a lot.” She laughed. “Don’t wait, son.” She put her hand on his arm. “Erica’s a
lovely and talented girl. She wants you. Learn to forgive.”

He
looked down at his hands.

“Your
father would have been a much happier man if he had learned some humility and
how to forgive. Don’t be like him.”

“I’m
nothing like him!” Gunther jumped up. “Don’t ever compare me to him. He and I
were complete opposites.” He paced the kitchen.

“This
coldness, this unforgiving attitude, is something like he would’ve done. I
didn’t expect it of you.”

Gunther
stopped dead.

Erica
entered the room. “I’m all set. I got the last flight out day after Christmas.”

Clare
poured another cup of coffee, and Erica joined her at the table.

Silence
hung heavy in the room. Gunther peeked at his mother. Her dark eyes pleaded
with him. She was a part of him. The best part, he always thought. She lived in
his heart. He adored her, followed her advice when he was brave enough to tell
her what he was doing. He never doubted her love. Or her logic.

Combing
his fingers through his hair, he let out a breath. “Cancel it.”

“What?”
Erica looked up at him.

“I
said, cancel it. You can stay as long as you want. I’m going to be here ten
more days. We can fly out together.”

“Are
you sure?” He noticed a real smile light up her face for the first time since
she arrived.

“Yeah.
I’m sure.” She got up slowly and snaked her arms around his waist, pulling him
to her for a hug.

Even
with her face buried in his flannel shirt, her voice muffled, he still heard
the quiver of emotion. “Thank you,” she said.

He
wrapped an arm around her, tightening the embrace. Glancing up at Clare, he saw
a saucy little smile and a light in her eyes as she raised her cup to her lips.
Relief surged through him as the wall he had built around his heart crumbled a
bit. He smiled at his mother, and she nodded in return.

“That’s
enough of that. We’ve got packages to wrap. Everyone in the dining room.” Clare
carried her mug in with her while Gunther retrieved the shopping bags.

“This
is my favorite part,” Erica said, sorting out the beautiful paper, ribbons, and
tape. Gunther set up the music in the background, and they began to wrap.

“Tell
me about the Christmas traditions in your house, Erica.”

The
young woman swallowed hard, her eyes watering. “It was a long time ago.”

Clare
squeezed her hand. “Take your time. I’ll bet you remember everything your mom
did at Christmas time.”

Gunther
watched his mom draw Erica out. It didn’t take long for her to be recounting
some of the funny things that had happened in her house when she was growing
up. She proved to be an entertaining storyteller. Gunther wondered if she used
some of her considerable acting talent in relaying the stories, and if she
didn’t embellish a little. But she kept them entertained.

The
time flew as the gaily wrapped gifts piled up higher and higher on one end of
the table. He even found himself laughing at her tale, especially at the part
where the dogs found their presents on Christmas Eve and decided it was time to
unwrap them.

“I
didn’t know you had a dog.”

“Two.
Pugs. Ferdinand and Isabella.” Erica nodded while Gunther chuckled.

“I
wish I had a dog. He’d get me out for some exercise and would be a nice
companion.”

“Why
didn’t you say so, Ma?” Gunther asked.

“I
think Hank is gonna give me a dog.”

A
small pang shot through Gunther. This would be the first thing his mother
wanted that he couldn’t or didn’t buy for her. He enjoyed giving her presents.
It was the least he could do to repay her for her love and devotion.

When
they were done, the casserole Clare had prepared early in the morning was
finished cooking and they sat down to eat. By dessert, the carolers had
arrived. Clare lent Erica a warm coat, and they opened the door and sang along.
Gunther draped his arm around her. His spirits lifted as he joined in the
festivities of the season. Erica and Clare passed around plates of brownies to
the singers, who sang their thanks and moved on.

“We
watched holiday movies.
It’s a Wonderful
Life, A Christmas Story, Holiday Inn.
”

“That’s
a wonderful idea!” Clare clapped her hands together. “Gunther, where did we
stuff those old movies away last year?” He traipsed up to the attic, searching
through box after box of family memories.

“Damn
cold up here. Hope they aren’t damaged.” he called down.

While
Clare and Erica made hot tea and a bowl of popcorn, Clare spoke up. “I hope I’m
not interfering, Erica. You say you love my son. Is that true?”

The
young woman put down the brownie she was arranging on a plate and faced Clare. “It’s
absolutely true. I would never lie about love.”

“Gunther’s
had his heart broken. I’m asking you, please, don’t break it again. If you’re
declaring your love, mean it.”

“I
do. I love him with all my heart. We belong together.” Her voice cracked.

Clare
stepped closer to Erica to give her a hug. “I thought so. Just making sure.”

Erica
embraced the older woman. They finished putting the popcorn in a bowl and the
brownies on a plate by the time Gunther returned. They settled onto the sofa
and afghans were passed around. Gunther wanted Erica up against him, but was
afraid she’d take it the wrong way. As the movie progressed, she inched her way
until she was cuddled into his shoulder.

He
wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer.
It’s a good fit. Damn. A good fit.

Clare
called it quits early, leaving the lovers alone.

When
the movie was over, they cleaned up the kitchen then climbed the stairs.

“Where
do you want me to sleep tonight? she asked.

“With
me,” he said, without hesitation.

She
smiled, wheeling her suitcase into his room.

They
made love twice and fell into an exhausted slumber by two o’clock.

* * * *

The
sharp rap on their door came a tad later on Christmas Eve. Erica cuddled up to
him for a few more seconds before he turned down the covers and swung his legs
over the side. They padded down the stairs together. Clare, apron on, was
already busy cooking. Erica made a quick breakfast of oatmeal for them, then
donned another apron and pitched in.

Gunther
split some firewood and stacked it in a dry spot. The exercise provided a good
outlet for the anger that still remained in his heart. By lunchtime, the ladies
were ready for a break. Erica bundled up in a down coat and went for a walk
with Gunther.

“You
didn’t grow up here?”

“We
lived in L.A., but Mom’s from here. She always wanted to come back.”

“She
has a nice life here, friends, boyfriend.”

“Watch
it! I’m not sure about Hank.”

She
smiled. “You don’t have to be. Your mom has her own mind.”

He
chuckled. “She does.”

Erica
slipped her hand in his, and they continued to stroll on down the road until
they reached a small path down to the water. It was steep. Gunther held Erica
close as they eased their way down slowly. The Atlantic Ocean looked cold and
beautiful, clean and dark aqua.

She
took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. It woke her up. A completely different
Gunther was on display in Maine. He was quieter, more thoughtful. Her love for
him deepened. He looked the fashionably rugged woodsman in his
L.L. Bean
clothes and boots. His dark
eyes never stopped examining hers, trying to penetrate into her soul.

In
the shower that morning, she’d resolved to simply enjoy herself over the
holiday. To leave love and commitment and heavy discussions behind.
One day at a time.
Although her nerves
were in a constant state of high alert, deep breathing and the peaceful
presence of Clare helped to keep her calm. Being outside in the chill of
winter, slowing the pace, also helped her to relax and allowed her to simply
enjoy life.

Time
seemed to evaporate and before Erica had even warmed up from their trek, she
had to get ready for the party. She and Gunther set up food while Clare put on
her best outfit.

A
tempting, spiral-cut ham shared a place of honor with a roasted turkey on the
long table. Casseroles of
spoonbread
, green beans
almondine
, and
mac and cheese were lined up, along with a green salad. Platters of chocolate
pixies, almond crescents, lemon bars, and molasses cookies graced a sideboard.
A punch bowl filled to the brim with warm, spiced wine stood on a cart with
other alcoholic beverages and mixers.

The
doorbell began to ring and new people seemed to arrive every ten minutes all
night long. The crowd varied from young to old as Clare’s friends and neighbors
stopped by to sip some Christmas cheer and graze at her buffet.

Clare,
all nerves at first, settled into the spirit of the party. She introduced Erica
to everyone as Gunther’s girlfriend. The young woman was bombarded with
questions about Hollywood, acting, and Gunther. Glances over at him confirmed
he was enjoying himself as he refreshed drinks and chatted with the guests. A
few lively discussions about the merit of some films over others brought raised
voices, but no one got out of hand.

Then,
Hank Littleton arrived. He came with the expected gift, a rescued pug dog,
about seven years old and twenty-five pounds. “He’s just your size, Clare. I
hope he’ll be a good companion and keep you safe.” Hank kissed her under the
mistletoe, and she blushed.

Gunther
was on the spot the second the lip lock was over. He pulled Hank aside. “What
are you intentions toward my mother?”

“Intentions?”

“Stop
beating around the bush. You know what I mean.”

“Do
you mean am I going to make an honest woman of her?”

Gunther
nodded.

“Don’t
ask me, ask her. I’ve proposed to her a dozen times. She always turns me down.”
Hank chuckled. “You’re sniffing at the wrong end of the dog, son.”