Don't Open Till Christmas Page 22

  “I know, I know. Just the light in here hurts my eyes,” the older woman said, stiffening her shoulders and getting back to work. “Better hurry—we’re going to have a Christmas baby who’s going to need a nice warm blanket.”

  God, how she wished she were certain of that. And how she wished Mark was here with her, holding her hand, and giving her the same reassurances.

  She still couldn’t quite believe he’d dropped her off and driven away. Now, when she needed him most, he’d left her on her own, appearing wounded and devastated, as if he were the injured party. All because she’d asked him to help a man she knew was innocent prove that innocence. Was it really too much to ask the man she deeply loved to help find the best lawyers and give Randy whatever help and advice he could?

  “Are you sure you don’t want to call Mark?” Randy asked, abruptly stopping his frantic pacing. “I can’t believe he just dropped you off and left.”

  She stared up at her cousin’s husband, surprised by the question. She hadn’t even realized Randy had heard her when she’d mentioned who’d driven her down from Chicago. “Maybe he feels like you won’t want him here,” she said, wondering if it was true. “Because of…things.”

  Randy stared at her quizzically, then blew out an impatient breath. “You mean with that shit Jeremy pulled? Come on, Noelle, you can’t really think I’m involved in that.”

  “I know,” she said carefully, not sure how much Aunt Leila knew. The old woman barely seemed to pay attention anyway as her knitting needles clicked together furiously. “I mean, well, maybe he’s afraid you’ll blame him for what’s happening now. With Sue.”

  Randy’s eyes immediately moved to the door, which had remained ominously closed since the nurse had last checked in a half-hour ago to say they would be delivering the baby any minute. Then he shook his head hard and stared at her. “What could that have to do with anything?”

  “Maybe the stress?”

  “Oh, babe, you’re kidding, right? Sue laughed her ass off last night when I told her, saying she was really having fun picturing Jeremy being some dude’s girlfriend in a jail cell.” Randy’s eyes grew bright. “God, she’s feisty.”

  Yes. She was. Noelle’s eyes grew hot, too.

  Sniffing a little, Randy continued. “This wasn’t about stress or about her sneaking a cup of tea with caffeine last week, or about her not staying still enough in bed—all of which she accused herself of on the ride over here. It would have happened no matter what. There’s nothing she could have done. Whatever this placenta abruption is, it doesn’t usually happen on top of the previa thing she had, but it does happen once in a while. Nobody knows why, it just…does.”

  Feeling a bit relieved, Noelle nodded. She’d never seriously believed Mark was in any way to blame for Sue’s condition, but it was nice to have it confirmed by Sue’s husband.

  Too bad Mark wasn’t here to hear it for himself. Because something made her suspect he was heaping a whole lot of guilt onto his own head.

  “I’m glad to hear this whole situation didn’t upset her.”

  “Jeremy’s actions angered her more than anything else, but she certainly wasn’t seriously worried about anybody thinking I was involved, any more than I am.”

  “Good.”

  He ran a weary hand over his face. “One look at our pathetically low bank account balances should convince anybody that I don’t have any stolen bucks lying around. They have absolutely nothing, Noelle. I sold my shares in the school to Uncle Ralph ages ago, which is how Sue and I were able to buy your mothers out. I haven’t even set foot at S.C.U. in a year and a half.”

  That was exactly what she’d figured.

  “Hell, if the cop leading the investigation doesn’t even think I’m guilty, what do I have to be worried about?” Then he looked at the door again, his expression growing somber and his voice soft. “That’s nothing, compared to the things that are really worth worrying about.”

  Noelle understood his sudden melancholy, but she also couldn’t stop thinking of his words. The cop leading the investigation…did he mean Mark? Needing to know, she cleared her throat. “Mark thinks you’re innocent?”

  Randy nodded absently. “He and his partner both. They told me as they were leaving. Mark gave me the name of one of the best lawyers in Chicago, not that either of us really thinks I’ll need it. Your boyfriend swore he’d get the truth out of Jeremy—that I had nothing to do with what was going on—even if he had to ask the D.A. to make a deal with him.”

  Noelle sagged back in her chair, stunned by Randy’s words. Mark had already gone out of his way to help Sue’s husband? He’d done exactly what she’d hoped he’d do…and yet he’d still reacted as if she’d asked him to commit a murder or something when they’d spoken in the car. She just didn’t understand it.

  But whether she understood him or not, there was one thing she did know. Mark was feeling guilty about Sue, she had no doubt of that. And he didn’t deserve to carry that weight. So rising to her feet and grabbing her coat, she said, “I’m going to go outside and make a call. Come get me if you hear anything, okay?”

  Randy and Leila nodded as Noelle walked to the door. Once outside, wrapping her coat tightly around her body against the cold, she grabbed her cell phone out of her pocket. She’d memorized Mark’s cell number already and quickly dialed it. Watching the little puffs of air caused by her breaths, she counted the rings, and was more than a little disappointed when a recording answered after five of them. “Mark,” she said, having to clear her throat, “it’s me, Noelle. I just want you to know, there’s no word on Sue yet. But in case you were worrying…in case you thought you and the police investigation had anything to do with this, well, you didn’t. Sue was absolutely fine right up until this morning when it just…happened. No one was to blame, and nobody blames you. So please stop blaming yourself.”

  She was probably running out of time and there really wasn’t anything more to say. He would come back, or he wouldn’t. Call her, or not.

  Love her or forget her?

  Something inside her broke at the very thought. “I wish you were here. I wish I didn’t need you so much. I wish…”

  But before she could finish her wish—and even she didn’t know what it was—a beep told her she’d run out of time. Slowly turning off the phone, she dropped it back into her pocket and walked back inside.

  MARK WAS SITTING in a crowded bakery on Frosty Lane, eating steaming hot gingerbread and drinking hot cider, when he realized someone had called him on his cell phone. He hadn’t heard the ring over the din of noisy customers, all stopping in to pick up preordered cakes and pies for the holiday. He’d come here after driving around Christmas for a little while, unable to leave town without knowing how Sue was. Deep inside, he also knew he was sticking around to make sure Noelle would be okay.

  Dialing for his voice mail, he listened to the message, his body tensing at the first sound of her voice. Noelle’s words, however, sent a wave of relief washing through him. He leaned back in the booth, breathing deeply. So deeply, he almost missed the final words of Noelle’s message.

  She needed him.

  And, oh, he needed her, too. He needed to look into her eyes and ask her what she wanted from him, because right now, he just didn’t know. A cop? A lover? An ally? A stranger?

  There was only one way he was going to find out, so, tossing his napkin to the plate, he got up and headed out the door. He was at the small hospital within ten minutes, and quickly found the obstetrical waiting room.

  Glancing through the small window in the door, he assumed the room was empty, but pushed it open just to be sure.

  He’d been wrong. The room wasn’t entirely empty. A woman sat in a chair in the corner, her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped tightly around them. Her head was down, her forehead resting on her knees. A curtain of long, dark hair fell across her cheek, tumbling over her jean-covered legs.

  “Noelle?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.
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  She slowly raised her head, her lovely face drawn and fatigued. Her eyes were suspiciously bright and the streaks below them told him she’d shed a lot of tears.

  Oh, God.

  Without a word, he strode across the room and bent down in front of her, tugging her forward and into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, almost crushing his throat. Winding her fingers in his hair, she kissed her way down his cheek to his lips, then pressed her mouth to his in a quietly tender kiss.

  “Tell me,” he urged, still holding her.

  She hesitated for a second, then finally said, “It’s a boy. His name’s Nicholas. Can you believe they did that to him after all the times Sue has heard me gripe about having a holiday name?” She was laughing and crying at the same time, as if completely overwhelmed by her feelings.

  But there was more, much more. So Mark waited, almost holding his breath. “And?”

  “And,” Noelle said, pulling away to stare directly at him, “he and his beautiful mommy are doing just fine.”

  IT WAS LATE THAT NIGHT—close to midnight—when Noelle finally agreed to let Mark take her back to the Candy Cane Inn. They’d spent the entire evening at the hospital, visiting Sue for a few minutes every hour and peeking at the baby—a real Christmas angel, everyone was calling him. Apparently things had been a lot more serious than anyone had ever realized, and even the staff had thought for a while that they were going to have a tragic holiday in the quiet little hospital. But once Sue and her baby were declared stable and out of danger, everyone had gotten a bit giddy with the news.

  Mark had been absolutely wonderful, taking care of everything he could. He’d gone back to the inn to get fresh clothes for Randy, and to get Sue’s bag, which they’d left behind in the frenzy. When he came back, he was carrying a number of presents provided by the inn’s guests, who weren’t the least bit disgruntled at having to fend without their host and hostess. Mark also brought a box of cigars, which he presented to the proud dad…Noelle had no idea where he could have found them on Christmas Eve night.

  Randy and Leila were still at the hospital, each of them wanting a few more private minutes with their children. They’d come home later. But for now, as Noelle wearily opened the front door of the Candy Cane Inn and led him into the quiet foyer, they were completely alone. Well, except for the guests who were, she sincerely hoped, asleep for the night, with visions of sugarplums and all that jazz.

  Walking across the wood floors on her toes, to avoid making any noise, Noelle entered the large living room, where guests often read or enjoyed an evening cocktail in front of a roaring fire. Tonight the fire wasn’t roaring—it was low, merely flickering, a few glowing embers casting shadows onto the hearth. In the corner stood an enormous Christmas tree, laden down with ornaments both new and old. Noelle recognized dozens of classic ones from her childhood, but, in typical Sue fashion, there were also some funky golfing Santas, bubble lights, and an entire collection of characters from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. She stared at them, smiling as she imagined next year, when little Nicholas would be so completely entranced by the colors dancing across the floor in a rainbow of reds, greens and golds.

  “It’s almost midnight,” Mark murmured as he joined her beside the tree.

  Noelle looked up at him, noting the way the tree lights caught the deep green of his eyes and turned them into glittering emeralds. He was beautiful. He was thoughtful. He was strong and caring. And oh, she did not want to let him go, even if holding onto him meant she might someday be hurt.

  But there was one thing she needed to straighten out. Because throughout the evening, as she’d watched Mark celebrate with her family and the hospital staff, she’d noticed the shadow in his eyes whenever the family “troubles” were mentioned. “I’d like to ask you something. Earlier, in the car, when I asked you to help Randy, you acted so shocked. Yet I found out later that you’d already done it. You’d referred him to a lawyer, told him you believed him innocent. So why were you so upset?”

  Mark turned to look directly at her. Saying nothing for a moment, he lifted his hand and brushed a strand of hair back, his fingers tracing a tender line across the top of her cheek. “You were just asking for that, weren’t you? I know it, I knew it then, I suppose. But somehow, Noelle, I just had this moment of terror, this déjà vu….”

  She gasped, drawing a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no, you thought I was like her. Asking you to lie, to betray your oath as a police officer? To break the law because I’d asked you to?”

  He answered her horrified question with one short nod. “You said you were speaking to me not as a cop, but as a man.”

  “I was. My man.” Not even thinking about whether she was wise or a fool, she rushed on. “I was asking the man I love if he’d do whatever he could to help me in a crisis. Not asking a cop to forget everything he stands for.”

  Mark’s big shoulders moved visibly as his breaths deepened. “Love?”

  Stepping closer, she rested one hand on his chest, right above his heart. “You asked me a question a week ago, Mark Santori. And I can honestly tell you that the answer is no.”

  His brow furrowed; Mark obviously didn’t understand what she was talking about. “What question?”

  “One word. One simple little word. ‘Happy?’ And the answer Monday morning when you left that note for me was that I was utterly blissful, satisfied and overdosed on physical pleasure.” Lifting her hand to his cheek and cupping it, she added, “But I was not happy. Not when I thought that having you fulfill all my fantasies would mean you would walk away from me.”

  He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. “I thought you wanted to let yourself go completely with someone you didn’t have to face in the cold light of day.”

  Shivering a little as his lips and tongue moved to her fingers, she said, “You’ve proved to me that I can’t have one without the other. You took the fantasy and made it perfect because of the beautiful emotion that came with it.” She leaned up a little, bringing her mouth close to his. “I want you more than I can say. I love you more than I could ever have imagined.”

  He closed his eyes, still holding her hand to his mouth. Time seemed to stop as she waited for some reaction to her declaration. Would he echo it? Thank her politely, then stammer excuses? Ask her to run away with him?

  Breathing deeply, as if memorizing the scent of her skin, he finally whispered, “I love you, Noelle.”

  The world started turning again.

  “I want to spend my whole life showing you how much I love you, and I’ll do that until the day I die.”

  She didn’t doubt it. The honesty in his voice could not be denied.

  “It nearly killed me to think you wanted me for nothing more than sex when I was already out of my mind over you.” His eyes suddenly growing heated, he added, “I have to admit, I was trying to teach you a lesson last Sunday night.”

  She shifted lightly. “Consider it taught. Oh, my God, I almost died when I woke up and you were gone, but that, uh, device was still on the bed.”

  He dropped his arms to encircle her waist and tugged her close against him, sharing the heat of his body. “I think I started to fall in love with you the minute I crash-landed on you in that dressing room.” He laughed throatily, the sound sliding over her, warming every exposed inch of her skin, like a protective blanket. “And I knew it for sure when you told my sister you liked your kids medium-rare.”

  He kissed her forehead, rubbing his cheek against her temple. Then, growing more serious, he said, “I hope you meant it, because I think our children are going to be very rare and special.”

  Thinking of all the children in her life—like sweet red-haired Ginger and shy little Mickey, and her new godson, Nicholas—she knew she liked children any way she could get them. Today, in particular. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to dream of tucking a child of her own into bed, whispering stories of fairies and nutcrackers, of magical
snowmen and elves.

  Mostly of his or her daddy, who loved them both so much, and showed them every single day of their lives.

  She started to respond, but before she could do it, his lips were brushing across hers, then returning to deepen the kiss. She sighed, her mouth opening in welcome. Mark tasted warm and sweet, spicy—like the Christmas holiday itself—and she savored the flavors, as well as the scent of his skin and the firmness of his body pressed against hers from neck to knee.

  Behind them, the holiday clock on the mantel began to play a quiet rendition of “Silent Night.” A signal that they’d reached the midnight hour. Noelle would have smiled if she hadn’t been fully occupied kissing the man she loved.

  It was Christmas. And she’d just been given the most perfect gift of her life.

  Keeping his arm around her shoulder, Mark led her to the couch near the fireplace and pulled her down with him, holding her close. Behind them was the front window. Glancing outside, Noelle was startled to see a few flakes of snow drifting toward the ground. For all the cold weather they’d experienced recently, they hadn’t seen a lot of snow. She truly hadn’t expected a white Christmas, on top of all the other miracles she’d experienced this year, yet here it was.

  The greatest one was sitting behind her, letting her curl up in his lap. And suddenly, she couldn’t help thinking of the last time they’d been in this position.

  She took a deep, shaky breath as that same lazy curl of desire drifted through her. Mark seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, because he began to stroke her arms, then to run the tips of his fingers over her stomach. When he slid his hand under her sweater and caressed her midriff, she held her breath. It eased out of her in a low hiss when he cupped her breast and delicately toyed with her nipple. Warm lethargy turned to a more consuming heat and Noelle turned in his arms, tugging him down for a deep, intimate kiss. Wanting that intense closeness, she slid one leg over him and straddled his lap, almost crying when she felt the thick ridge of his erection between her legs.