Tinsel My Heart (7 page)

“You betcha.” Axe over one shoulder, saw in the other hand, Jack couldn’t resist joining in the familiar carol as Becca led him onward. He justified it by reasoning it’d just be rude not to. Yeah. That was the reason.

Chapter Seven

“Well, this is certainly a surprise.”

Becca almost dropped the halfway-out-of-the-oven pan of brownies. “Mom?” No advance call, not even the courtesy of a knock. Her mother could barely be coerced into darkening this door for the six years Gram had been sick. Now she barged in without warning. Much like the cold virus that had snuck up on half the cast this week, and about as welcome. She’d forced Jack into doing fizzy shots of Vitamin C tablets with her the past three nights as a pre-dinner cocktail. And, of course, followed them up with kisses as a reward for taking his medicine. “I might say the same. What are you doing here?”

“I came for the decorations.” Her mother shrugged out of her parka and tossed it over the newel post at the base of the stairs. Black cords tucked into her Sorel boots were a nod to the six inches of snow that had fallen over the course of the day. This being a home game week, she also wore a Minnesota Vikings sweatshirt—one of many in her vast collection of team jerseys, tees and caps.

“You want my Christmas decorations?” Becca dusted flour off her button-down sweater. It probably didn’t show against the cream cable knit, but she didn’t want to risk giving her mother any excuse to pick at her. “Why?”

“Oh, St. Olaf’s Nursing Home, up in White Bear Lake, lost their decorations in a boiler leak. My church is taking up donations.” Sonja tugged on the garland framing the doorway. “I thought these would still be stuffed in dusty boxes in the basement. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine you’d have put all this up.”

Stung, Becca tossed the potholders on the counter and joined her mom in the living room. “I put them up every year.” By herself. Because nobody else in the family would help. So Gram used to bake snickerdoodles, put a stack of scratchy holiday LPs on the record player, and supervise while Becca hauled out a lifetime’s worth of decorations. This year had been particularly hard, the first without Gram’s smiling face and shaking hand to point out where every last candle and tchotchke belonged. But the house wouldn’t have felt right without them.

“You put them up for your Gram. Which was sweet.” Sonja thumped at a pillow embroidered with holly sprigs, the red berries faded with age to a light salmon. Clicking her tongue against her teeth, she crossed to the bookcase. Poked at a plastic figurine of Santa astride Rudolph, circa 1970-something. “But these things are ancient. If they weren’t earmarked for charity, they should’ve gone straight in the trash. You should be thrilled I’m clearing them out for you.”

Fury snapped and snarled, trying to get free of the cage of calmness Becca always tried to keep around her emotions when speaking to her mother. The woman didn’t have a sentimental bone in her body. Which made it very hard for Becca to relate. “They’re an important holiday tradition to me. A lasting memory of good times with Gram.”

Sonja shrugged. “So take a picture. Then go down and get the boxes so I can start packing it all up.”

Her mother was present at the reading of the will. She absolutely was aware that the house and all its contents now legally belonged to her daughter. How dare she waltz into Becca’s house and start issuing orders? Becca white-knuckled her grip on the top of the wing chair and took a deep breath. “Mom, I think it’s great that you want to help the less fortunate. But you’ll have to find some other way. You just can’t come in here and strip the walls on a whim.”

“Uff-da, but you’re touchy today. Get over it. I’m doing you a favor.” And with that, Sonja yanked down the tinsel garland around the windows.

Becca snatched it out of her hands. “Mom, I don’t have time to argue with you right now. I’ve got a friend coming over.” This was their only free night before rolling into a solid week and a half of dress rehearsals and then performances. Jack would be here any minute. She really hoped she’d finally be able to coerce him into taking their fooling around the next step—literally, up the stairs to her bedroom. They’d spent the last three nights talking, laughing. Rekindling their close friendship as if there’d never been a gap. Turning it into something even deeper, something closer. But now, she was done talking. Becca was ready to get closer to him in a whole different way. She’d even dug out her lacy pink teddy. It was sure to tip him over the edge. “If you’d called ahead, then you wouldn’t have had to make a wasted trip.”

“You’re worried about a wasted trip?” Sonja shook her head. “I’m worried you’re wasting your life, living in the shadow of an old lady. Becca, I know you think I’ve got no respect for traditions. And we’re never going to see eye to eye on that. But what you do need to see is that I’m trying to help you.”

The padlock Becca used to tamp down six long years of resentment finally snapped. “Help me? Who do you think put me in the shadows? You begged me to move in here and take care of her for a few months. And then you abandoned us both. You only came over at the holidays. You never visited her in the hospital. Never offered to help me get her to chemo appointments. Didn’t sit up with her all night while Gram cried herself to sleep when her hair first fell out.” Unshed tears of her own clawed their way up her throat.

“You never asked for help with her.” Sonja’s response was almost a whisper, and shaky.

“I shouldn’t have to!” It was pointless to have this argument, with Gram now gone. But Becca couldn’t stop the words from pouring out now that she’d started. “She was your mother, for crying out loud. And she was dying. How was that not reason enough for you to spend time with her?”

“Your Gram and I were never close. Her choice, as much as mine. She was happier with you tending to her.”

“But what about me? What about my life?” Guilt burned in her gut, and Becca hastened to qualify what she was about to say. “Sure, I loved her. I wouldn’t take away a moment of our precious time together.”

“Then it all worked out for the best.”

“You didn’t give me a choice! I graduated from college, ready to start a bright, shiny future full of options. You took them all away. By asking me to stay with Gram, it forced me to turn down big shows, big opportunities. I’ve been stuck watching my friends leave for New York and flourish, while my career stagnates. Did you know Gram apologized to me, every week, for being a burden? A millstone around my neck? How do you think that made me feel?”

Sonja’s cheeks had gone pale. It was the only sign she was getting through at all to her mother. “Are you really waiting for an apology? Because all that’s in the past. Now you can flit off to New York. Do whatever you want.”

“It’s not that simple. I’m not twenty-two and fearless. I own a freaking house now. I’ve built a whole life here. Am I just supposed to uproot myself and leave it all behind?”

“Sounds like you have that choice you’ve been going on about.” Sonja sniffed. Shrugged into her coat. “After that childish tantrum you just hurled at me, I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do. Just let me know if I should expect you for Christmas Eve or not.” She slammed the front door behind her.

Becca’s throat burned. A clue that evidently she’d lost it enough to scream at her mother. Great. Headed to the kitchen for water, Becca froze when the door creaked open again. Really? She’d come back for more? Whirling around, she saw instead the long black folds of Jack’s coat swirling through the door.

“I wanted to give you a few more minutes, but I’ve been standing on the porch for a while. Your neighbor across the street already parted the blinds and glared at me twice. She probably thinks I’m a burglar.”

“More like a knight in shining armor. I’m so happy to see you.” Becca rushed into his open arms. His hug smoothed over the raw edges of her temper. “Wait—you’ve been out there a while? Did you hear...all of that?”

“Enough. Enough to know you finally squeezed out everything that’s been festering in you for a very long time.”

“Ewww. You just turned a serious emotional confrontation into the equivalent of an infected pimple.”

His laughter huffed across the top of her head. “Well, now that it popped, you feel better, don’t you?”

“Somewhat. Lighter, and yet sad, if that makes any sense.”

“I’m going to cheer you up.”

Completely drained from the emotional outburst, Becca just wanted to huddle on the couch. Maybe eat an entire pint of ice cream without a pause. Putting on a happy face for her date was simply too much to ask. “Jack, the Prince of Darkness is cheerier than you most of the time. Don’t overreach.”

“Very funny. Get your coat.”

* * *

Jack pulled Becca off the big, black inner tube. “If rosy cheeks equate to a rosy disposition, then my work is done.”

Self-conscious about just how much the moonlight revealed of her tousled state, Becca’s hands flew to her face. “We’re snow tubing at night, in below zero temps. I think my rosy cheeks are due to wind chill. And my wet hair’s from when I bounced out of the tube and rolled down most of the hill. Three straight days of snow have laid in quite a base.”

“Yeah.” Jack brushed himself off, then did the same to her. “I didn’t realize your hair was wet, though. We’d better get you back to the car. I wouldn’t want it to freeze and break off.”

“You say the most romantic things.” Still, she hot-footed it back to the car. As much fun as they’d had for the past half hour, laughing and screaming their way down the hill at Como Park, Becca’s feet and hands were numb.

“I told my agent the only way I’d come back here was if he got me into a car with heated seats.”

“You mean LPP’s paying for this?” When he first lifted her into the big black SUV, Becca hadn’t given a thought as to where it came from. While she didn’t have any idea how much the giant and expensive looking behemoth rented for, she’d bet that it was more than their entire budget for the show.

Jack started the car and cranked the heat. “Don’t freak out. It doesn’t cost you guys a cent. A dealership over in St. Paul’s letting me borrow it. Then they can jack up the price because it’ll have my ass print in the seat. Gotta love capitalism.”

Toeing off her boots, Becca nodded. Warmth blasted her feet and radiated through her clothing from her knees to her shoulders. She unzipped her parka. “If only they had a magical extension to warm my front too.”

“I can fix that.” Jack got out of the car. Becca assumed he was going for a blanket in the trunk. Instead, her door opened. Strong arms reached in, nipped her by the waist and flipped her over as he slid into her seat. Pressed chest to chest, he wrapped his arms around her...then firmly planted his hands on her butt. “Everything warm now?”

“To say the least.” The boiling hot springs at Yellowstone had nothing on the bubbling warmth surging through her veins.

“Good. We’ll head for home as soon as you’re thawed.”

“What’s your rush?” She tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. Relished the small shiver that ran through him.

“No rush. Didn’t think you’d want to hang out on a frozen golf course in an idling car.”

“Why not? We’re not idle.” To prove her point, she undulated her hips while sliding her hands beneath his sweater.

“Are you serious?” Jack jabbed at the window with his elbow. “There’s almost two feet of fresh snow out there. Como Park’s a known sledding and tubing spot. Anyone could come by and see us.”

A husky laugh bubbled out of her throat. She shoved his coat down and off his arms. “Not if we fog up the windows.” Then she removed her own and tossed them both into the back seat.

“Becca, don’t tease me.”

“You’re the tease, Jack. Four nights of long make out sessions on my couch. In your hotel room. Never any action past second base. I’ll fess up—I’ve already lusted after you for almost fourteen years. How much longer are you going to make me wait?”

His body stilled to granite beneath her. No blinking, no breathing. Just his superheated stare burning into her. Finally he dragged in a deep breath. “What did you say?”

“I want you. I’ve always wanted you. What are you going to do about it?”

No answer. Not in words, anyway. Jack grabbed the neckline of her sweater. Yanked down and out. Hard. Buttons pinged off the side windows. He scooped her breasts out of her bra. The sight of his big thumbs rubbing circles over her pale pink nipples was incredibly erotic. It made Becca think about the floor-to-ceiling mirrored closet doors in his hotel suite. Made her wonder if she could convince him to have sex standing up against the wall, facing those mirrors. After watching him literally chop down trees, Becca had no doubt he had the strength for it.

Then Jack sucked a nipple into his mouth. Swirled his tongue around it, with the softness of his goatee brushing a wider circle of sensation. And Becca lost all capacity for thought. Grabbing his thick, dark hair, she clutched him tight. Moaned when, with plucking fingers, he duplicated the action on her other breast. Darts of electric lust so bright she could practically see them zinged straight to the aching emptiness between her legs.

He tore his mouth away. Tilted her away from him to unbutton her pants. The position rubbed her against his hardness. Not in a way that soothed, but drove her even higher. Made her clench her thighs against his and rock back and forth on that thick, wide bulge.

He paused, hands on the zipper of his own jeans. “If I promise to make up for it later, would you be on board with getting straight to it, Becca? Not because we’re in a car. And it’s the dead of winter. But because I want to fuck you so badly I’m almost shaking.”

Becca loved,
loved
, knowing the effect she had on him. Loved knowing she wasn’t the only one about to implode with need. Loved that he wanted her enough not to wait. “If I promise to make it up to you later, can I ride you right now?”

Jack shoved her pants to her ankles with his cockiest grin. “Be my guest.”

She pushed his hand out of the way. Ripped the zipper down and paused, caught off guard when her hand touched only hot, pulsing skin.

Jack laughed at her obvious surprise. “Yeah. I go commando. More freedom.”

He really was the ultimate bad boy. And he was all hers. At least for tonight. “More ease of access.”

“That too.”