“I managed to keep it at just $47.69, to be exact. I got you some neat things. You’ll see.”
She turned her head away.
She heard him whistling “Silent Night.”
But she wasn’t eighteen anymore. She wasn’t helpless. “Damn you, you promised me, you said that I could trust you, that you wouldn’t—”
He didn’t intend to pretend for an instant, nor did he hesitate to interrupt her. “I didn’t lie, Eden. Turn around and look at me. Get used to me, starting right now. I am incapable of pretending I don’t want you, so there’s no point in trying to hide it and pretend sex doesn’t exist and that I’m some sort of eunuch roommate. Look at me and trust me. I won’t ever do anything you don’t want.” He spoke slowly and easily, so calmly, his own voice nearly putting him to sleep. But not Eden. No, she was too terrified.
She turned her head slowly on the pillow. He was standing in the middle of her bedroom, naked, his arms at his sides, looking at her.
“I’m just a man, Eden.”
She stared.
“Do you still think I’m miraculous?”
“Yes,” she said finally after staring at him for a full silent three minutes. “I suppose you are.”
He grinned at her, feeling a whole truckload of relief. “I like a warped woman. Let’s get some sleep.”
He walked toward the bed, saw her freeze, but continued on his course. Normalcy was the key. He slipped under the covers. “Turn off the light. You wore me out tonight.”
“I didn’t. Whatever do you mean?”
“Oh, yes, you did. You didn’t squeal with incredible joy when you saw the ring. You didn’t leap into my arms and kiss my face off and scream that you couldn’t wait to marry me, that you were the happiest woman in New York. Oh, no, you nearly forced me to call out the Marines. Now I’ve got to regroup. Off with the light. I’ve got to think, to plan.”
The light clicked off. The bedroom was black as pitch. Lindsay moved around a bit, then became quiet. She said then, “Don’t you wear pajamas to bed?”
“No.”
“If I bought you some, would you?”
“No.”
She sighed.
“Speaking of pajamas, I hate nightgowns. If I burned all of yours, would you sleep nude?”
“No.”
“Well, there you are. Good night, sweetheart. It’s good to be here, where I belong.”
“Good night, Taylor. I’m glad you’re here. I think.”
“Do I get a good-night kiss?”
Silence.
“All right. A special kiss, an engagement kiss, a Christmas Eve kiss.”
She leaned over and kissed him, landing on his chin. He reached out to clasp her shoulders and instead brushed against her breasts. Oh, sweet Jesus, he thought. “No, don’t pull back. It’s dark in here. Now, let’s see if we can’t get our mouths together properly.”
They did and it was a sweet kiss, one that left him profoundly horny and left Lindsay feeling a small flutter in her belly, a sensation she attributed to residue fear.
When Taylor awoke the following morning at precisely ten minutes past seven, she was lying on her back, a good foot separating them. As he’d done before, he pulled her over and settled her against him. He didn’t go back to sleep. He lay there, quite happy and so pleased with himself he wanted to yell with it. She mumbled something and moved, coming closer, her thigh covering his legs quite thoroughly now, her palm over his bare chest, her face tucked into his throat. Her hair was thick and soft and wavy in his face.
He waited to see how she would react when she woke up. Unfortunately, she didn’t wake up, and by the time it was eight o’clock, he had to go to the bathroom.
“Well, damn,” he said as he eased away from her.
He brought hot chocolate, croissants, butter, and Kramer’s strawberry jam in on a tray. “Merry Christmas, Eden. Come on, wake up.”
Lindsay couldn’t believe it. A man’s voice, in her apartment, and she was in bed. It took her less than an instant to come fully awake. She stared at this man in her bedroom. He was wearing her white terry-cloth robe, belted at the waist. He was in her bedroom and he was bringing her food. He lived here. She must have lost her mind, she must be crazy. She’d lost it on Christmas Eve. He lived here and she’d agreed to it. Then she happened to look down at the blazing diamond on her left hand. Well, hell.
She scooted up in bed and patted her legs. Well, she didn’t have to act like a freaked-out fool. “Set the tray down right here, sailor. I’m starving.”
“Don’t you ever go to the bathroom?”
She ducked her head down.
“Eden, don’t be silly. Even though you’re gorgeous, your body’s a dream, still, even with all these perfections, you’ve got to go to the bathroom sometime.”
“All right,” she said, and went.
When she came back, teeth and hair brushed, the two bulging Christmas stockings were on the bed, along with the breakfast tray.
“This is wonderful,” she said, and realized with joy that it really was. It was new and different and she simply couldn’t believe it. She relished it. She wanted to hug it to her and never feel fear again. Perhaps Taylor was different—“I’m trying to show you that you can’t live without me. Food to a skinny woman is always a good start.”
She bit into a croissant. “Wonderful. Oh, that’s real butter. I’d forgotten I had any.”
“Kiss me good morning. It’s a tradition in my family that goes all the way back to the Spanish Inquisition. And it will become a tradition in our family as well.”
She kissed him, tasting of the delicious strawberry jam and hot chocolate on his mouth. He deepened the kiss just a bit and let it go at that.
Two weeks ago, Taylor never would have believed he’d be in bed with her on Christmas morning, the recipient of a sweet kiss, but here he was.
As she’d so aptly said, it was indeed miraculous. He wondered, as he picked up his first wrapped stocking present, if she loved him and just didn’t know it. He guessed he’d happily settle for “ miraculous” for the time being. There was lots to do before he asked her again if she loved him.
Taylor quickly discovered that Eden liked to talk in bed, when it was in the dark of the night, when she couldn’t see him or his reaction.
He, in turn, could have any reaction he wanted because she couldn’t see him. It suited both their purposes for the time being.
Their most memorable late-night talk had been short and had moved him more than he’d expected. She’d said matter-of-factly, “I’ve always wanted to belong. To have someone who loved me and cared what happened to me. Someone who never questioned me, who believed me, and accepted me.”
Jesus, he thought, and swallowed, then reached out his hand and poked her ribs. “Well, now you do. Don’t forget, all that still goes even when we have our first knock-down, drag-out fight.”
“It’s nice,” she said, grabbing his hand. She didn’t release it.
That was all, and he knew he’d never forget it as long as he lived. Her hand remained in his all night. It wasn’t until the second of January that Lindsay remembered about her mail. Most of it was addressed to Lindsay Foxe. It was possible, of course, that Taylor had already looked at incoming bills and letters, but she didn’t think so. When he snooped, she imagined he wouldn’t resort to sneaking looks at letters. Still, she either had to tell him who she was or do something about the mail. She felt like a fraud, but she didn’t do anything about it.
She shied away from admitting she was Lindsay Foxe. On the other hand, the odds were that he wouldn’t ever recognize that name, not in a million years, except that he had been in Paris. All he’d had to do was look at a newspaper or scandal sheet. How could he not know? Oh, God, she couldn’t bear it. But then again, just maybe he would never find out about her even if the name did sound familiar to him. In terms of his abilities, she had no doubt that if he were curious about her name, he’d know all about her within an hour. She wasn’t ready to tell him. Not yet. It surprised her that the wound still festered. For nearly nine years now she’d handled it, down to joining self-awareness groups in college and spouting the party line. Before, she’d really thought herself well-armored, despite Dr. Gruska’s two appearances, but Taylor was different in her life. He counted. She didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t want him to look at her and think she’d been a teenage Lolita. He already knew too much, but this—she simply couldn’t handle this yet.