Mistletoe and Holly (14 page)

T
HE RUMBLE OF
the snowplow wakened Leslie to the muted light behind the drapes drawn across the windows. She blinked sleepily in the semidarkness and tried to move, but she was sandwiched between two warm bodies.

Holly was curled tightly up against her, sleeping in the crook of her arm while Tagg’s hugging length pressed itself to her other side. He was turned on his side, toward her with one leg lying across hers and a hand rested familiarly on her breast. His dark head was very close to hers on the pillow, his warm breath stirring the hair near her ear.

It was impossible to move without waking one or both of them, so Leslie subsided, resigning herself to
the discomfort of the hard floor a little longer. She breathed in the air’s chill and glanced sideways at the fireplace. The logs had burned down to chunks of white ash, the fire appearing to be out. But it was warm and cozy under the layers of blankets.

The hand on her breast moved, his fingers flexing and feeling in an intimately caressing manner. Leslie shifted slightly on the pillow trying to see if Tagg was awake. Her arm was pinned to her side by the pressing length of his body, so solid and warm. Thick and spiky male lashes lay together, leading Leslie to believe he still slept.

Then Tagg stirred, snuggling deeper into the pillow while his hand spread possessively over her breast. “What a wonderful way to wake up in the morning,” he murmured without opening his eyes. “This is how it’s supposed to be.”

The lazy contentment in his voice sent a warm feeling of pleasure stealing through her. Leslie turned her head a little more in his direction, the corners of her mouth curving up. Through the screening veil of her lashes, she studied the easy strength in his masculine features, the shadowy growth of a night’s beard on the teak brown skin stretched from cheekbone to jaw, and the attractive grooves that gentled his mouth. His eyes slowly opened, their dark centers ringed by a pale blue.

“I think the fire went out,” Leslie whispered.

There was a lazy twitch of his mouth in amusement. “Do you want to bet on it?” Tagg murmured, putting another meaning into her words.

Her pulse gave a little leap of anticipation as he moved, without apparent effort, to lean slightly over her and lower his mouth onto her lips, moving over them in a mobile fashion.

It was a persuasive and pervasive kiss, warm with the fire of latent passion that started a curling heat spreading through Leslie. Even the faint scrape of the stubble on his chin seemed to be pleasantly rough, like the dry lick of a cat’s tongue.

Tagg broke off the kiss with a degree of suddenness and turned his head to glance at his daughter nestled against Leslie’s side. “You are supposed to be asleep,” he accused with mock gruffness.

“I was pretending.” Her voice bubbled with contained laughter. “I heard you and Leslie whispering and it woke me up.”

His look was drolly resigned as his gaze slid to Leslie. “We should have shouted. She probably would have slept through that.” Shifting his weight away from them, Tagg pushed aside the covers to get up. “I’ll get the fire going again—the one in the fireplace,” he added with a quirking smile.

“There won’t be any school today, will there?”
Holly asked, rolling onto her side and off Leslie’s arm to watch her father poke at the slumbering embers before adding more firewood.

“We’ll have to turn the radio on and find out.” Tagg didn’t hazard a guess.

When the logs started smoking, Tagg moved away from the hearth and crossed to the windows to pull the drapes. Sunlight burst into the room. Leslie flinched and turned her head away from the blinding brightness until her eyes adjusted to it.

“It looks like a beautiful day outside. Cold but beautiful,” he stated, and rubbed his hands together to ward off the room’s coolness. “I sure could go for some coffee.”

“What are we going to have for breakfast? I’m hungry,” Holly declared.

“I guess it will have to be cereal and milk,” he shrugged.

“Can’t we toast some bread over the fire?” His daughter was determined to do some kind of cooking over the open flames.

“You can toast some bread,” Tagg consented. “The main road has been plowed, so it shouldn’t be long before the power is restored. I’ll let you two ladies use the bathroom first while I rustle together some breakfast.”

“Brrr. I don’t want to leave the blankets,” Holly
declared with an exaggerated shiver. “Do you, Leslie?”

“No, but we’re going to have to sooner or later,” she reasoned.

“Both of you, rise and shine.” Tagg walked over and picked up the ends of the blankets. Holly squealed and grabbed to hold onto them, but he yanked them off, forcing them both to get up whether they wanted to or not.

Holly went scampering off to lead the way to the downstairs bathroom, shivering and carrying on with a child’s theatrics, while Leslie followed at a necessarily slower pace. After sleeping in her clothes, her skirt especially was badly wrinkled. No amount of smoothing could rid the tan material of all its creases.

It was too cold for either Holly or Leslie to spend much time in the bathroom, making do with a quick, invigorating wash and a fast comb through their hair. When they returned to the partitioned-off living room, a cereal box and a pitcher of milk were sitting on the coffee table. Tagg entered the room shortly after they arrived, bringing a loaf of bread, a long-handled fork and a jar of strawberry preserves.

“You’re in luck, Holly,” he said. “I just heard on the radio there won’t be any classes at school today.”

“Yippee!” she shouted.

“Which means,” Tagg continued, “you can help me shovel the sidewalks.”

Holly groaned and ran to the window to see how much snow had accumulated in the night. But she was sidetracked by the discovery, “The treelights are on!”

With the power restored, it didn’t take long for the central furnace to rid the house of its chill. Tagg made coffee, but Holly insisted they use the fire to toast their bread instead of the electric toaster. By the time they finished breakfast and a second cup of coffee, it was warm enough in the house for Tagg to take down the blanket across the living room opening.

“Let’s get these blankets folded up, Holly,” Leslie suggested and reached for the top one.

“We can do it later,” Holly protested.

“I have to go home later,” she reminded her, “and make sure everything is all right at Aunt Patsy’s house.”

“You’d better let me shovel a path over there first,” Tagg said. “There’s no sense trying to wade through all that snow on those crutches.”

While he went outside to clear the walks, Leslie enlisted Holly’s aid to pick up the front room and wash their breakfast dishes. When the housework was done, she checked his progress. There was a pathway through the snow nearly to her aunt’s side door.

Anxious to make certain the blackout had not created any broken water pipes at her aunt’s house, Leslie donned her heavy coat and wool scarf. Holly bundled up, too, to join her.

“Careful. It’s slick!” Tagg called the warning to them when they emerged from the house.

As Leslie reached the edge of the driveway, she heard a car slowing down to turn in. It was her aunt returning home. She waited until the car was driven past her to the rear garage before she crossed to the side door. Tagg leaned on the snow shovel, his tanned complexion turned ruddy by the invigorating cold.

Holly went galloping through the snow to greet Patsy Evans as she waded toward the door. “We don’t have any school today because of the snow,” Holly informed her. “Did the electricity go out where you were? Ours was out all night.”

“It was out at my friend’s house, too,” she replied.

“I came over last night and turned on the water in your sinks so the pipes wouldn’t freeze,” Tagg informed her. “Leslie spent the night at our place.”

“That’s a relief,” her aunt stated. “I was concerned about her being in the house alone with no heat.”

“We slept on the floor in front of the fireplace last night,” Holly explained eagerly. “We had to huddle together under the blankets to keep warm. It was fun.”

“I’m sure it was,” Patsy agreed dryly.

“Did you have any trouble getting home this morning?” Leslie asked.

“It was a bit tricky getting out of Maude’s driveway, but she lives on the main road so it had already been plowed. I had no trouble at all once I was on the road,” she insisted. “But it certainly was nasty last night.”

“Daddy—” Holly looked suddenly anxious, “will they cancel our Christmas program at church Sunday night because of this snow?”

“It won’t be cancelled,” Tagg assured her. “Not unless it snows again.”

“Oh, good,” Holly declared with very definite relief, and glanced up at the white-haired woman bundled up like an Eskimo in her fur-lined parka. “Are you coming to see our Christmas program?”

A pleased look brightened her expression, despite the chilling cold. “How nice of you to ask, Holly. I think Leslie and I would enjoy coming to watch your play.” She glanced at her niece for confirmation.

“Aren’t you coming?” Holly looked at her as if it had been a foregone conclusion that she would attend.

“Sure, we’ll both come,” Leslie promised, knowing how important it had been when she was a
child to have people she knew in the audience at school or social functions.

“There’s no need to take two cars,” Tagg inserted. “All of us can go in our station wagon.”

“That’s very sensible,” Patsy Evans agreed with his proposal. “What time shall we be ready?”

“The program starts at six-thirty, but Holly needs to be at the church early so why don’t we leave at six?” Tagg suggested.

“We’ll come over before six,” she nodded her approval then glanced at Leslie with a no-nonsense briskness. “I don’t know why we’re standing out here in the cold when we can be inside. Thank you for looking after things, Taggart.”

“It was nothing.” He shrugged away her thanks and stepped to the side so they could get to the door. “Come on, Holly. Go get your shovel so we can get these walks cleared.”

A check of the house showed a night of below-freezing temperatures had not resulted in any damage. Yet Leslie knew that events during the storm had resulted in changes within herself. As much as she was physically and emotionally attracted to Tagg, the feelings were also plagued by a vague apprehension. In the beginning it had been all right to take things as they came, but it was time she gave some serious thought about where their relationship
was leading while there was still time to change its direction.

On Sunday evening, Leslie sat in the church pew between Tagg and her aunt, watching the Christmas story being acted out by the church’s Sunday School class. Her view of Holly in a white and woolly sheep’s costume was blocked by the people in front of her. When the angel appeared, Leslie remembered Holly mentioning the classmate who had gotten the part. It was obviously a case of type-casting since Sally Tuttle was an angelic-looking child with curly blond locks.

Tagg tilted his head slightly to murmur, “Holly could never look that innocent.” It was an obvious reference to the girl playing the angel.

Leslie smiled briefly in acknowledgment, letting her hazel glance touch his profile. In a dark suit and tie, Tagg made a striking impression with his jet black hair, dark complexion and ice blue eyes. There was an air of maturity about him, travel and experience adding character to his handsomely chiseled features.

He had everything a girl could hope to find in a man—looks, personality, and sufficient wealth to be reasonably independent. Yet Leslie couldn’t shake a sense of caution. She continued to hold back from any kind of commitment without being
sure why she was. Some strong, protective instinct seemed to prevent it.

A choir of older members of the church class began singing Christmas hymns to bring the program to a close. The minister concluded with a brief prayer and an invitation for the parents and friends to partake of refreshments being served downstairs.

Still costumed, Holly met up with them in the church’s small, outer lobby. “Can we stay?” she asked, wisps of black hair sticking out from her curly white hood with its floppy sheep ears. “They’ve got Christmas cookies and everything downstairs.”

“Would you like to go down?” Tagg left the choice to Leslie and her aunt.

“Who can say no to Christmas cookies?” Patsy Evans asked and provided an affirmative answer with the question.

The refreshments were served in a small meeting room that quickly became crowded with children and adults. There was an empty space along the wall near the door where there was less chance of her crutches accidentally tripping someone. Leslie and her aunt waited there while Tagg and Holly brought them coffee and cookies.

As soon as Holly had eaten her cookies, she was lured away by some playmates. An acquaintance of Patsy Evans had drawn her off to one side to converse
about a mutual friend, leaving Leslie and Tagg more or less standing alone.

The minister noticed them and came over. “Mr. Williams, I just wanted to tell you that I thought your daughter did a commendable job tonight. As a matter of fact, I don’t have a ‘baaaad’ thing to say about it.”

Leslie winced inwardly at the awful pun, but managed a smile.

“Thank you, Reverend August.” Tagg pretended to smile, too. “I know Holly enjoyed it.”

“Children are natural performers.” The minister nodded and glanced curiously at Leslie. “Is this your wife? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting her.”

“Unfortunately she isn’t my wife,” Tagg corrected that impression. “This is Leslie Stiles.”

“Of course.” Her name produced instant recognition. “You are Mrs. Evans’s niece, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.” She nodded.

“I hope you’ll forgive the mistake,” the minister requested apologetically to both of them. “But when I saw the two of you standing together, it slipped my mind that you were a widower, Mr. Williams.”

“No harm done,” Tagg assured him.

Someone accidentally backed into her crutch, jostling Leslie’s arm, and sloshing drops of coffee onto her white silk blouse. “Darn.” She breathed out the
mild imprecation when she saw the stains. “Here.” She handed her cup to Tagg. “Hold this, will you?”