Any Given Christmas (14 page)

“I’m sorry, honey. How bad?”

A small shrug lifted her shoulders. “Some days she doesn’t even recognize me. She puts up a good front. If I give her enough cues she can play along like she knows what I’m talking about. But as soon as I’m done talking she asks who I am. Most of the time now she thinks I’m the sister she lost when they were just teenagers.” An almost imperceptible sigh squeezed from her lungs. “She’s still here, but most of the time it feels I’ve already lost her.”

Dean tightened his arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. “So it’s just you, then? No other family?”

“Nope. Just me.”

He let that filter through him, wondering what it would be like not to have Kate or Kelly to talk to, bounce ideas off, or debate with until he was convinced they were both abandoned by aliens. He’d lost his mom and that left a huge hole in his life. With the exception, of course, that she insisted on popping up in the back seat now and again. Thank God he still had his dad. He didn’t know what he’d do if he’d lost him too.

Emma had no one.

He looked down into her face, where crinkles of distress spread from the corners of her unique blue eyes. “I’m sorry, honey. I can’t pretend to know what that’s like, but I imagine it must be very hard.”

She nodded. “Especially around the holidays.”

“I’d still like to meet your Memaw.”

Her gaze lifted to his. “We’ll see.”

Her response sounded exactly like that of a schoolteacher.

“It depends on how good you are.”

He laughed as the corners of her luscious mouth curled upward. “Is that so?” Before she could squeak, he had her flat on her back beneath him. “I can be good. Or I can be bad. Really, really bad.” He silenced her giggles with a press of his lips to hers. He swept his tongue inside her mouth, where she tasted like spicy cheese sauce. He liked spicy cheese sauce.

“Which do you prefer?” His hand slid up beneath her little tank top and he rolled her puckered nipple between his fingers. His cock hardened. God, he couldn’t get enough of her. He loved the way she smelled. The way she smiled. The way she tasted. And the way she made love to him with such unadulterated passion.

He’d had plenty of beautiful women before, but none who’d wrapped themselves around him the way she did. None that had ever snuck into his jaded heart and made him start thinking of things he had no business thinking. None who’d ever made him want to sit on a sofa in her living room while her cat made his nose itch and he only half-assedly watched one of the biggest college games of the year.

Damn
, he liked Emma Hart.

Before he got carried away and carted her off to the bedroom, he kissed her forehead and looked down into her eyes. “When do you go back to school?”

“Tomorrow.” She looked up at him and a little crease formed between her eyes. “Why?”

“I wanted to know if you’d help me.”

“With what?”

“Getting this charity and camp started. I’d like to have it up and running by this summer.”

“Summer? That’s not that far away.”

“That’s why I need to get started now. I need to hire the right person to get it going.”

“Hire?” She rolled from beneath him and sat up. “So, you’re really not asking for help, you’re looking for someone to do it for you?” She leaned away. “You had no intention of investing any blood, sweat, or tears into making this camp happen, did you? You just plan to
pay
someone to do it for you.”

“You make that sound like a dirty word.”

She shrugged.

“I don’t have time, Em. I have to get my shoulder back in shape, and that’s going to take months of concentration. Besides, I make enough money to hire the best.”

Emma stood, folded her arms beneath her breasts, and looked down at him. “I should have known.”

“You should have known what?” He patted the sofa beside him. “Come sit back down and let’s talk about this.”

She shook her head. “I should have known you’d take the easy way out. Men—”

“Stop.” He dropped his head back with a groan. “Are we seriously going to have another
men like me
conversation?”

“Keep giving me ammunition and I’ll keep firing it back at you.” Her jaw tightened as she lifted her chin.

“Come on, honey. Come sit down. I don’t want to fight.”

A humorless laugh broke from her throat. “You fooled me, Dean. You had me believing that this camp was a passion for you. But the only passion you really have is for your football career, isn’t it?”

“I’ve fought hard for that career,” he said. “I’m not about to just walk away from it. Or apologize.”

“No one’s asking you to. But if you’re going to name a charity after your mother, I’d think you’d at least want to put in the effort to make sure it happened the way you envisioned.” Her lips curled in disappointment. “So your mother would be proud of what you’d accomplished instead of just how much money you paid someone else. Where’s your pride?”

Damn it. He had pride. And his mother
was
proud of him. She’d told him so. She wouldn’t care who put the organization together, as long as it got put together. Would she?

At his silence Emma turned and walked toward the hall. “I need to take a shower. Maybe,” she said, biting that perfect bottom lip, “when I come out you could be gone.”

“You’re going to make me miss the rest of the game?” he said, knowing it was a lame excuse.

“Do you want me to tell you how it ends?” She glanced at the TV and the landslide score in the top corner of the screen, then back at him. “You win.”

Like usual
.

The words were unspoken but there all the same. Fine. If that’s the way she wanted it. He stood, grabbed his jacket from the chair, and brushed the cat hair off the sleeve. The evil elf cat hissed and Dean wanted to thump him between his pointy ears. Instead he reached down, took a risk, and gave him a quick pat on the head as if to prove to Emma he wasn’t the bad guy she tried to paint him to be.

He opened the front door and looked back at where she stood in the hall. “I don’t want to leave this way.”

“All good things must come to an end,” she said.

“I have a doctor’s appointment this week. I’m going back to Houston.”

“Have a nice trip.”

His head came up. “That’s it? A few hours ago you let me get up close and personal, and now you’re kicking my ass out with a
have a nice trip
?”

“What do you want me to say, Dean? You knew this was temporary. I knew too.” She gave him a smile so bogus it made his stomach turn. “So, thank you, it’s been fun. I hope your shoulder heals and you’re able to rocket passes into the end zone very soon. Please lock the door behind you.”

T
he following afternoon, Emma sat at one of the bistro sets in the Sugar Shack, sipping hot coffee, reviewing her class agenda for the following day, and working on an assignment for her Issues in Special Ed class. Dark clouds hovering in the sky outside the big window were swollen with snow and the gray weather only added to her mood. After two weeks off from school, her kids had been a bit wild and out of control. With little sleep the previous night, her morning had dragged by. By the time the afternoon bell rang, she needed a serious caffeine fix. No one in Deer Lick made better coffee than the Sugar Shack. But it would take more than that to make her forget about the ache floating around in her heart.

Yesterday, Dean had no sooner put his mother’s car in reverse and backed out of her driveway before she’d wanted to run after him.

How had she allowed herself to build up such a need for him? Sure, it had been a long time since she’d had sex. And there weren’t many men who could make love the way Dean Silverthorne did—not that she’d had many men. But it had been about more than the sex. Lately, she’d discovered him as a man with a heart and soul. Even if he seemed to be a little misguided at times.

She’d known about his life, both professional and personal. His escapades were out there online, in magazines, and on entertainment news shows for everyone to see. And judge. But during the time she’d spent in his arms, he’d seemed differently. Instead of a spoiled superstar, he’d been warm and tender. Caring and wonderful. Somehow she’d lost her edge. She’d allowed him to find a vulnerable space in her heart and he’d crawled inside.

It hurt like hell to know it had all been an act and she’d been right about him in the first place. And in that moment of clarity, she’d realized it was better for her to close the door and let him leave than to hold onto the hope that he’d hang around.

“Look what I brought you.”

Emma looked up as Kate slid a plate filled with a mountainous slice of chocolate chip cheesecake in front of her. “Wow. How’d you know I’ve been dying for a sugar fix?”

“Actually, I just thought you looked like you could use a friend.” Kate smiled as she perched herself on the chair across from Emma. “But before you think I’m ready for sainthood, my intentions aren’t all that noble. Actually
I
needed a sugar fix. Dad’s gone home and I still have to decorate a sheet cake for Barbara Klautmeir’s sixtieth birthday. I thought maybe you could help me.”

Known for her way-out and often X-rated cake designs, Emma asked Kate, “What crazy idea have you come up with this time?”

“An old-fashioned record player with a Tom Jones record spinning on top.”

“Tom Jones? Why not Frank Sinatra or Elvis?”

Kate shrugged. “Special meaning. You want to help?”

“I have no idea how to decorate a cake. Besides, I have this yummy slice of cheesecake to eat.”

Kate handed a spoon to Emma, then whipped out another spoon from her apron pocket. “Correction. You have half of a yummy slice of cheesecake to eat.”

The two of them scooped and chatted about everything from the spaghetti dinner Matt had cooked for Kate last night to how their father fared without their mother to what Hollywood celebs wore Spanx. Emma was shocked to learn that even a few high-powered
male
movie stars refused to leave the mansion without them.

Time flew and Emma felt like she’d been let into a very exclusive club. Like she belonged. It was nice, but it also served to remind her how badly she wanted her own family. Her own someone-to-love.

Minutes later, Kate dragged her behind the counter, slipped an apron over her head, and tied it in the back. Then Kate went to the cooler and brought out a large, dirty-iced sheet cake, and spun Emma toward the counter. “You, my intelligent friend, are going to find your creative side.”

“I don’t think I’ll be much help,” Emma said. “I can barely show the kids how to finger paint.”

“Hey, if Maggie can do it, so can you.”

Kate opened the lid of a plastic bucket and withdrew a big glob of hot pink goo, which she then set at the top of a stainless machine and punched a button. The glob on top disappeared and perfect sheets of fondant rolled out the bottom.

“Besides.” Kate lifted the fondant away from the machine. “I sense you need to release a little stress.”

“Stress? Me?” Emma laughed. “A classroom of five-year-olds has a way of doing that, I suppose.”

“And working toward your master’s.”

“Yeah. That too.” Emma watched as Kate carefully laid the big sheet of fondant over the top of the iced cake, then showed Emma how to smooth it with her hands. Next a glob of black fondant ran through the machine while Kate grabbed a round piece of wood off the counter.

“It’s easy to complain, but I honestly love every minute of teaching,” Emma said. “You know that old quote that kids say the darndest things? This morning Billy Ware asked me if I knew a good place to buy a new a top hat because his was broken. Apparently the one he’d put on his snowman didn’t make it magically come alive.”

“I can’t wait to have a baby,” Kate said.

“What?” Emma’s hands still on the layer of fondant. “You just got married.”

“I didn’t say I planned to have one any time soon. We have to get Matt elected sheriff first.” Kate grinned. “Plus, I’m having way too much fun practicing right now. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want children?”

An empty pang rippled through Emma’s stomach. “Of course. But I really can’t even think about that now. Too much to do.”

“And…” Kate rolled the black fondant over the circle of wood. “There’s the little issue of having a daddy to go along with that picture?”

“Yeah. Kind of hard to conceive alone.” She really did need to consider a dating service. There must be a man out there who’d be interested in a kindergarten teacher with no history of arrests, violence, or vices.

“Hmmm.” Kate handed Emma the smoothing trowel. “So how was your New Year’s?”

“Nothing special.” Emma leaned down with the pretense of making sure the fondant was centered properly. “I took down my Christmas decorations, reorganized my cupboards, watched a movie.”
Had amazing sex with your brother.
“The usual.”

“I thought you had a date with Jesse.”

“He canceled at the last minute. His uncle in Missoula had a heart attack.”

“That’s too bad,” Kate said.

“He called today to say his uncle would be fine and he wanted to reschedule our date.”

“He is a very nice-looking man.” Kate clapped the flour from her hands.

“I suppose.”

“So are you going out with him?”

“I told him I would.”

“If you ask me, I don’t think Jesse Hamilton flips your switch.” Kate gave Emma a pair of latex gloves to put on. Then she slapped down another glob of white fondant, and with a toothpick added in a pinch of turquoise coloring. She handed the ball to Emma to knead. “Now, my brother—”

Is a spoiled superstar.
“Your brother?” Emma squeezed the ball of fondant with all her might. “What about him?”

Kate shrugged. “I saw the way he looked at you Christmas night at our house.”

“He didn’t
look
at me in any way. He merely walked into a conversation Jesse and I were having about… cat food.”

“Hard to imagine Dean being interested in anything that doesn’t have to do with good hands and fast passes.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay then,” Kate said. “Let me rephrase that remark. I saw the way
you
were looking at him and I think there might be something there.”

“Oh, no.” Emma shook her head and smushed the ball of fondant down on the counter. “I guess you missed those frown lines between my eyes. No offense—your brother might be handsome but he can irritate me faster than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought about Matt too.” Kate sighed. “When I first came back, I had no interest in even talking to that man, let alone falling in love with him. But I fell hard. Like I’d jumped out of a perfectly good airplane without a parachute.”

“Well, whether your brother interests me or not—and I lean heavily on the
not
,” Emma said, intent on putting a lock on the subject. “He went home to Houston.”

“Aha!” Kate pointed her finger. “I knew there was something going on.”

“There’s nothing going on, Kate.”

“Then how did you know he went back to Houston?”

Oops.
“Kate. Population: six thousand.
Everybody
knows he went back to Houston. Martha Cooke knows he took one overloaded duffel bag for which he will most likely have to pay the airline an extra fee. Jack Stanton knows he wore his cowboy boots and slipped as he got into your daddy’s truck at the G & G. And Mrs. Mayberry, the office lady at the elementary, thinks he walks on water because he stopped by the school on his way out of town to bring her husband Ned the autographed ball cap he promised.”

“Oh.” Kate’s know-it-all grin fell like a bad soufflé. “Well, my brother might be a lot of things, but when he says he’s going to do something he generally means it.”

Not.
Emma could tell Kate her brother was a huge BSer and didn’t have the guts of a squirrel, let alone a man who would step outside his comfort zone. Or that Emma doubted he meant
anything
he said.

Then again, her disappointment in him really was all her own fault. She’d known who he was and for some reason she’d put expectations on him. That wasn’t his fault. Somewhere down the road she’d be able to look back on the twenty-four-ish or so hours they’d spent together with fondness. Somewhere
way
down the road.

He’d gone home to Houston, where he belonged. With his team, his fans, and his supermodels.

She belonged in Deer Lick.

A thousand miles and a world of differences separated what they wanted. And though she’d never be able to forget the hours she’d spent in his arms, Emma knew she’d go on with her life. She would get her degree and move toward helping special kids with needs. She would find a man to love, a man who would love her, and marry her, and give her a family to love.

That man would never be Dean Silverthorne.

Not even if she wanted it with all her heart.

D
ean stripped off his shirt and lay back while warm fingers stroked his skin.

“I’m not getting a response here.” The feminine voice was low and calm.

“Sorry, Dr. Henderson.”

“I’m not a doctor, Mr. Silverthorne.” Her fingers slid over the first of three fresh scars on his shoulder. “I’m a PA.” She moved his arm slowly in various directions and said, “I think I’ll call the doctor in here to check this.”

“I promise I’ll be good.”

She laughed. “Oh, I doubt that.” She left the exam room and moments later, Dr. Kip Powell walked in with his usual stern demeanor.

“How’s the shoulder?” The doctor glared at the small computer he held in his hands.

“Stiff.”

“Will be for awhile. You haven’t been overdoing it, have you?”

Other than lifting Emma up onto the kitchen counter so they could make love? “No.”

“Because I know guys like you want to push it to the max, thinking, no pain, no gain. But that won’t work with this tear, Dean. You’ve got to give it time.”

“I’m doing what you told me to do. Which is basically diddly-squat.”

The doctor set the computer on the counter, then tested Dean’s range of motion and his grip. Finally the doctor eased his arm back to his side. “You’re right. It is a little stiff.” He grabbed the computer again and began to chart notes on Dean’s file. When he was done with that, he pulled some papers from a drawer and handed them to Dean. “Here are some ROM exercises. Some scapular squeezes. You can go ahead and start walking, but no treadmill, no running, and no swimming. I’ll have the PA go over those exercises with you.”

“How about a hot tub?”

“Fine. As long as you don’t overdo.”

Hmmm. Was having mind-numbing sex with a soft, hot blonde in his own personal hot springs considered overexertion? Nah.

“No raising your arms over your head. At all. Got that?”

“Got it.” Dean looked down at the exercise instructions in his hands. “So that’s it? No doom and gloom?”

The doctor stopped on his way out the door. “Don’t get me wrong, Dean. I’m not being a naysayer. I’m not Dr. Death. What I am is a realist. You had a very severe labral tear over the top of two previous tears. You were working with a weak spot to begin with. I won’t stand here and fill you full of promises. I will tell you that I believe in optimism. But I will also tell you that if I were you, I’d start thinking about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Beyond football. Because the chances of that shoulder coming back to 100 percent… well, they aren’t high.”

“But there’s a chance.”

“A slim one. And,” the doctor continued, “as fine a quarterback as you are, I cannot and will not lie to your coach. The Stallions main office is very aware of your condition. And the prognosis.”