Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (14 page)

Having whittled away the limited time she had to drive home, she darted back up the stairs into the bathroom attached to his bedroom. She raced through a shower so fast the water never had a chance to get more than lukewarm and washed with soap that smelled like him. Then she ran his minty toothpaste around her teeth with the tip of her finger. She used his deodorant and dragged his short black comb through her hair, which she twisted into a braid that she fastened off with a yank of dental floss. She'd find something more suitable in her office desk once she got to Colbys.

Then, feeling as if she were committing some sort of crime, she opened his closet door in hopes of finding some sort of presentable shirt she could wear. The choices were thin, not surprising considering the quantity of empty hangers and the size of the pile of shirts overflowing his hamper. She took down a familiar red shirt with blindingly neon fish romping across the front and replaced her turtleneck shirt with it. She rolled up the too-long cuffs and tied the too-long hem around her waist. Then she poked through his dresser drawers until she found a clean pair of underwear.

The boxer briefs were pale gray and made her feel a little unsteady when she pulled them on. They were loose, but they were better than going commando to the pool tournament. And mercifully, they didn't show through her white jeans. She yanked on her sweater and went back downstairs. She retrieved the wounded violin and let herself out the front door.

His truck was gone from the driveway. At least it was proof that he hadn't been hiding somewhere inside the house, waiting for her to leave. Given that fact, it wasn't much of a stretch to guess he'd probably gone into Cee-Vid while she'd slept.

She set the violin on the seat beside her and drove the short distance to Colbys, where people were already congregating in front of the entrance to the grill and around the pool tables in the parking lot. She could smell bacon in the air and knew that her restaurant, at least, had gotten off to a timely start that morning.

Unlike its owner.

Swallowing her discomfort, she pinned a cheerful smile on her face as if it were just another day in the life and sailed past the small crowd at the door. She unlocked it and slipped inside the bar, scurrying around like a madwoman, flipping on lights as she went.

“You're late,” Jerry said from the archway to the restaurant. “You're never late.”

She barely gave him a glance. “Guess there's a first for everything. You set for the day? Need anything?”

He gave her an odd look. “Everything's running on schedule. 'Cept for you.”

She ignored that and hustled past him into the storeroom, where she pulled off her sweater and grabbed a black apron to tie around her waist, the better to disguise the fact that she was wearing yesterday's jeans. Then she retrieved the register tills from the safe and headed back out front.

Jerry was still standing in the archway.

“Don't you have some cooking to do?” she asked pointedly.

He didn't budge. “You all right?”

Other than feeling stupidly weepy every time someone showed unexpected compassion?

She slid the first till into a register and pushed it closed. “I'm fine.” When he still didn't move, she sighed and looked at him. “Jerry. I am fine. It was just kind of a crazy day yesterday.”

He finally made a face. “I'll say. Never personally known any female who had two men literally fighting over her.”

“Jerry—”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I'm going, I'm going. But you might want t' think about finding some different clothes unless you want everyone coming in here seeing your little walk o' shame.”

She flushed and jammed the second till into place. So much for Casey's red shirt. “Go do what I'm paying you for,” she grumbled, and was glad when he finally left the archway.

As soon as he was gone, she picked up the phone and called Hayley, asking her to bring her some clean clothes.

Thankfully, her very intelligent, learned counselor friend didn't question why she needed them.

She just brought them.

And when her eyebrows shot up upon seeing the garish oversize shirt that Jane was wearing, she didn't offer any comments except a toothy, delighted grin.

Chapter Thirteen

“Y
ou need to tell her.”

Casey was sitting in his office while Axel closed the door to Control, where Casey could no longer enter. There was no point pretending he didn't know who his cousin meant. No point in pretending he didn't know what it was he needed to tell her.

Whether or not he'd been suspended from Hollins-Winword, he knew that Axel had just spent the past three hours running a lead into the ground on McGregor, who'd reportedly been spotted in Havana. It was the first sign in nearly two months that the agent might still be alive.

And Casey, through no one's fault but his own, had been barred from doing anything about it.

“We don't tell outsiders about Hollins-Winword,” Casey retorted. His cousin, of all people, was on intimate terms with that inviolate rule. Axel had told Tara before they were married that he wasn't just the horse breeder most people thought he was only because her life had been in danger.

And now Ax was giving him an arid look. “Jane's not exactly an outsider. If she were, you'd have had a one-, two-, maybe three-night stand with her and moved on like you always used to after you got rid of that twit Caitlyn.”

That “twit” had gotten rid of Casey the same way Jane would if she learned about his sterility.

“No.” He pulled open his office door and they walked back into the open-plan area where Cee-Vid's legitimate gaming business was conducted. It was Saturday and the place was deserted.

They reached the front entrance of the building and went out into the cold morning sunshine that made a mockery of Casey's dark thoughts. The doors snicked closed behind them, automatically locking.

“Your life would be a lot easier if you'd just admit you are in love with her,” Ax said as they headed for their trucks, parked side by side in the big parking lot.

“I'm not—” He bit off the denial and shook his head. His cousin was trying to get under his skin—something at which he'd always excelled. “You're letting those backflips you do every time Tara smiles at you mess with your head.”

Ax laughed silently. “You'd be happy doing backflips for your woman, too, if you'd stop fighting it. I've been where you are, man. Suspension's a hard thing to swallow. You'll suck it up, same as the rest of us have had to do, resolve the problem and move on.”

“And if it can't be resolved?”

Axel eyed him over the top of his truck. “We're going to find McGregor,” he said. “We'll find him alive. Or we'll find him dead. Either way, we'll find him.”

The mystery surrounding the missing field agent still plagued Casey. But he'd meant the situation with Janie.

“Unless he turned.”

Axel's lips compressed. Casey knew his cousin didn't want to think McGregor had gone bad either. “We'll still find him,” he said evenly. Then he deliberately lightened his tone. “It's the beginning of the holiday season. The whole family's gonna be together later for the tree lighting. Try to enjoy it. Might be good for you.” Then he got in his truck and drove off. He was heading out to the place he shared with Tara and their two boys to pick them up and bring them back to town for the day's festivities.

Casey got in his own truck more slowly.

Waking up beside Jane—even clothed the way they'd been—wasn't like anything Casey'd ever experienced. And leaving her there, snoring softly with her hands tucked under her cheek like an innocent child, had been harder than he wanted to admit.

But if he hadn't left her there, hadn't sought sanctuary at Cee-Vid—even though that particular sanctuary was a shadow of what it should have been—staying until she'd wakened would have been even harder.

He might have slept soundly through what had been left of the night for the first time in months, but that didn't mean he was able to look in the mirror without seeing the reflection of a coward staring back at him.

And he hated a coward just as much as he hated a cheater.

He knew she'd be at Colbys by now. In the throng of her pool tournament contestants and more paying customers than she knew what to do with.

There was no reason he needed to show his face. Playing in the tournament was an excuse to be near her and he was tired of pretending otherwise.

Maybe he was just plain tired of pretending.

So he drove out of the parking lot and headed downtown.

There was even more of a crowd than there had been the day before. He was forced to park several blocks away, and even that spot wasn't entirely legal, if any of Max's minions decided to go write up parking tickets.

When he reached Colbys, he threaded through the crowd spilling over from the parking lot into the street. Colbys was an institution around Weaver. It had started out as just a bar long before he was born. Then somewhere along the line, the grill had been added. But never, not once, had it been as successful as Jane had made it.

He had no right to feel pride over that, but he did.

He managed to wedge himself through the doorway and spotted her right off. Wearing black jeans and a white sweater, perched on top of the ladder, updating the pool scores. While he'd been cooling his heels at Cee-Vid, the field had been whittled down to four contenders, including his own father.

For the first time that day, he felt an actual smile on his face.

Jane didn't notice him as she backed down the ladder and laughed at something someone said.

“You going to play human roadblock or move and let a person get inside?”

At the familiar, laughing voice, he pulled his attention away from Jane's smiling face and looked back to see his sister J.D. Her green eyes were sparkling. He dutifully moved aside and gave her a hug. “Where's the rest of the crew?”

“Kids are all out at the big house—” which was how she referred to the main house at the Double-C ranch “—and Jake'll be along soon. He dropped me off out front so he could find a parking place. Can you
believe
this turnout? Guess that's one thing good to come out of the snow being so late this year.” Her hair was up in a ponytail, the same as Jane's was, but J.D.'s was nearly white-blond and short in comparison to the long, waving golden tail Janie sported.

His sister slid her arm companionably through Casey's. “Haven't seen you in a while. You haven't been to many Sunday dinners lately.”

The family—whoever was available, including aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents—always got together on Sunday afternoons for dinner. They rotated locations, but there was
always
some sort of weekly get-together.

In the past few months, he'd been absent even more than usual.

“Work's probably been keeping you pretty busy,” his sister chattered on. “So you're bringing Jane this evening, right? Everyone'll be in town and present for duty at the tree lighting.”

“We'll see.”

She gave him the “I'm your big sister” look she'd been giving him all her life. “You're
bringing
your girlfriend, Casey.”

“She's not—” He gave up. There was no word to accurately describe what Jane was, so why try? J.D. might not know about Hollins-Winword, but like most of his family, his sister had still decided she knew what was what. No amount of talking on his part would change her mind.

“Heard how you popped Arlo one,” she continued blithely. “Nearly fell off my chair. Never even knew you had a temper lurking inside you.” She poked him in the side, right where she knew he was ticklish. “Turns out my unflappable brother has a jealous streak. Who knew?”

He grabbed her finger before she could jab again. “Just because I love you doesn't mean I won't break this thing off.”

She grinned and patted his cheek. “I'm
so
afraid.”

Then the door opened again behind them and her husband, Jake Forrest, entered. “Would've been easier to ride horses into town than find a parking place,” he said in greeting. He stuck out his hand to Casey and clapped him on the shoulder as they shook hands. “Heard you're going for the Golden Gloves.” Jake's lips twitched. “Never knew you were the boxing sort.”

Casey grimaced. “Suppose it's too much to hope my own family would let me live that one down.”

“Way too much,” J.D. agreed. “I'm more likely to punch someone than you are.”

Since everyone around had evidence to the contrary, Casey just shook his head. “When're Angeline and Brody getting here?”

“This afternoon. Angel was hoping Sofia and Early would get their naps in on the drive over. She's dreaming, if you ask me, because I also know they're bringing a couple of their new pups along for Uncle Matt to check out. He's wanting a new dog for the Double-C.”

Casey nodded toward the wall. “D'you see the leaderboard up there?”

J.D. saw their father's name and let out a whoop. “You go, Daniel Clay!” She grabbed Jake's arm. “Come on. Let's go find him.”

His brother-in-law gave Casey a wry smile and indulgently followed as J.D. dragged him into the crowded bar.

Jane had written in the starting times for the games next to the finalists' names. Even if he was pleased about his father's progress, Casey still wasn't particularly in the mood for socializing. And he definitely wasn't in the mood for explaining why. So rather than hang out in the crowded bar until his dad's game began, he worked his way around the perimeter and slipped through the storeroom door.

Janie's office door was closed but not locked and he went inside. He sat down on her squeaky desk chair and studied the brand-new computer sitting on top of the desk.

At least she'd gotten one.

He booted it up and saw immediately that her old files had been transferred over and when, and that she'd barely used it since.

He didn't have to work hard to imagine her sitting right where he was now, cursing the new computer with every keystroke.

Jane and computers barely mixed.

In only a matter of minutes, he'd reorganized the system so it would at least appear more like what she was used to. She was even linked to the internet at long last, though her security levels were pathetic. He reset everything, including her woefully predictable passwords so she'd have at least a modicum of security against the typical hack attempt. Then, since he was there with nothing better to do, he beefed up her firewall and virus software and made sure she was set for automatic backups.

She'd want to brain him for interfering, but the changes were done and she was too practical to insist they be undone.

Then, because his dad's game was still some time off, he leaned back in the chair, making it squeal even more wildly, propped his feet on the corner of her desk by the picture of her little sister and closed his eyes.

* * *

Which was exactly the position he was in when Jane, running into her office for a new black marker since the old one was running out of ink, discovered him. Proprietarily snoozing in
her
office, his dusty boots propped on
her
desk, while the words “Have you seen these fish?” scrolled up and down and around on her computer screen in a dizzying array of colors with animated neon-colored fish swimming in the background.

She should have shoved his boots off the desk. Taken him to task for messing with her computer, because he obviously had. The shirt she'd borrowed from his closet was folded on top of her file cabinet. It had clearly been his inspiration for the screen saver.

Instead, she paused for a moment and studied his face.

“You come in here for a reason, or just to admire the wares?”

She huffed, but only to maintain good form. “I should have known you weren't asleep.”

He didn't move an inch except to open one eye. “I was until you started breathing all hot and heavy.”

She couldn't quite keep her amusement under wraps, but she unceremoniously took him by the boots and lifted his feet off the desk anyway.

The chair positively squawked as it tilted far backward.

He shot out an arm to steady the chair, grabbing on to the nearest object.

Which happened to be her leg.

She let go, and his boots hit the floor with a thud.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on one's viewpoint—he didn't let go of her.

Instead, his hand slid upward from the back of her knee to flirt with the back of her thigh, his touch ridiculously warm through her denim jeans.

Her brain just sort of short-circuited. “I took your violin,” she blurted.

His fingers paused their merry little tiptoe. His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“I, um, I thought I'd see if it could be fixed.” She moistened her lips. “I know I had no business. I mean, it's
your
violin, but—”

“It's okay.”

Her words dried up in her throat. “It is?”

He swiveled in the chair, sliding his other hand behind her other thigh.

“Yes. But why'd you care?”

She had a building full of people and all she could think about was the fact that, sitting as he was, his head was on a level with her breasts and his fingertips were roving over her rear.

“Because—” She broke off. Swallowed hard and tried not to tremble. “Because I think the violin matters to you and—” And he mattered to her. “And you, um, you obviously haven't had time to do anything about it,” she managed with careful tact, when what she wanted to do was demand answers that she knew better than to expect.

His lips twisted. “It was my grandmother's,” he said after a moment. “My dad's mom. Squire's first wife. Her name was Sarah.”

She'd lived in town long enough to have heard the general history of the Clays. She knew that Squire Clay's first wife had died when his five sons were still young, so there was no way that Casey could have ever met the woman. “It must be pretty old.”

He made a small grunt of agreement. “The old man didn't save much of hers when she died,” he added after a moment. “Couldn't bear it, according to my dad.”