Beneath the Surface (35 page)

God, why did he let that woman get to him so easily? In every way, every day, she did something to either tick him off, or make him fall more in love with her, and she didn’t even have to be in the vicinity to accomplish any of these feats. Because he lived on memories, images of his times with her so sharp and bright he ran on them for days and days after he saw her.

Good thing, too, since he hadn’t seen hide or tail of her for the last three days and she hadn’t bothered to call him, not even to ask him how he was.

Okay, so the phone worked both ways, but he had his pride, just like her, and he knew she was testing him, just like he knew he would break down and call her as soon as he finished this last chapter.

Driven, EJ dug in for the next hour and finished the last twenty pages.

The total page count had come out to three-hundred-and-fifty, fifty more pages than he had originally told Tabitha. Good thing she hadn’t waited around for them because she might have chained him to the chair as she’d threatened.

Like that would have been torture?

203

Gracie C. McKeever

EJ leaned back in his chair, palms against the back of his head, fingers interlocked, staring at the screen for a long while, reveling in the achievement of finishing another book.

He thought of calling his editor first, just to stall, but since he had beat his own personal deadline by a month and the publisher’s deadline by two, he was in no great hurry to make that official contact.

Oh, hell, just call the girl and get it over with. You know you want to.

EJ saved his work to his C-drive, a disk and a CD before printing up the last hundred pages and closing the document.

He got up and paced several minutes before the Zip Code Man’s words came back to him—
She’s going to love your gift—
and pushed him over to the cordless on the end table. EJ speed-dialed her office number first, knew she’d be at work despite it being Christmas Eve.

“Lyons Style, Inc. Cynthia Lawrence speaking. How may I help you?”

“God, you’re there, too?”

She laughed. “Hi EJ! I’m assuming you mean in addition to my boss?”

“Tell me you guys are at least leaving early.”

“Actually you just caught me on my way out the door. Tabitha gave me the go-ahead to leave a little while ago, but I had some things to finish up.”

“Don’t keep that husband of yours waiting too long.”

“I won’t. Hold on a sec.”

She put him on Hold and EJ’s stomach churned with butterflies for the several seconds it took Tabitha to get on the line.

“Hi Eric. How’s it going?”

“Fine. And what are you doing there?”

She chuckled. “It’s only two-thirty and I’m leaving in a few.”

He swallowed hard, couldn’t believe she still made him nervous. “I finished the book,” he blurted and wanted to rip out his tongue at the rough approach.

Smooth, real smooth, Vega.

But Tabitha’s enthusiastic reaction made his awkwardness more than worthwhile.

“You did? When can I read it?”

“As soon as you come over?” He hoped she didn’t hear the question mark at the end of that. Damn, he felt like he was asking Carolyn Walker to be his Valentine all over again.

“How about after I get off from work?”

“You’re not just coming over for the book are you?”

204

Beneath the Surface

“Of course not!”

“So you’ll spend Christmas Eve with me?” He waited only a second before he decided she was about to say no and quickly added, “Unless you’re spending it with someone else?”

“Don’t fish. Who else would I spend it with except you?”

“Your brother maybe.”

“He left for parts unknown. Found a note, my key and some money on the kitchen counter when I got home from your house the other day.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I told you, he does it all the time. It’s how he operates. He’ll be back. It may be weeks from now, months or a year.”

“And when he does come back, he’ll be welcome.”

“Of course.”

He knew he was going to have to learn to deal with this relationship of hers if he was going to be in her life. Knew he was going to have to get over his jealousy where Frankie was concerned. He also knew it wasn’t going to be easy, and he for damn sure wasn’t going to like it.

He would do it though, do what he had to to please Tabitha. Because he loved her.

“So what time should I expect you?”

“Three, three-thirty?”

“Sounds good.”

“Want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself.”

* * * *

Three days.

It had killed her to stay away from him so long with no contact at all, had killed her not to call him and hear that deep sinful voice.

As the week drew closer to Christmas the need to call him had intensified exponentially, pushing her hand towards the phone periodically throughout the days.

He was like an addiction she couldn’t stay away from, her weakness, and Tabitha did not like addiction and weakness, especially in herself.

She remembered how in the beginning he’d said she wouldn’t have respected him if he tried to ingratiate himself—as if he had to try—and he’d been right. That was one of the things she loved about him, that naked Sagittarian honesty, that take-charge and go for what you wanted attitude that he exuded in every thing he did.

205

Gracie C. McKeever

It had certainly served him well in his career, his love life, knocking her off-guard and luring her in.

Tabitha made it to his building at three-fifteen, would have been earlier but had stopped off at the liquor store and the market on the way.

She had his gift, wrapped and tucked down in her bag, had had it made and been carrying it around with her for weeks knowing she planned to go over to his house and surprise him Christmas Eve.

She’d been on edge all day anticipating his reaction, feeding into her imagination with visions of an angry Eric, an argument between them and hot make-up sex.

He’d called, right when her own nerves had neared the breaking point and she’d been about to dial him.

Tabitha’s heart pounded as she neared his loft, legs stiffly carrying her up the stairs after he instantly buzzed her in, her head telling her to turn around and run.

She spotted him as soon as she cleared the landing, standing at his door, leaning against the jamb, arms folded across his well-built chest, wearing a Santa hat, green Polo shirt tucked into a pair of blue Levi’s and looking more sexy than any human being had a right to look.

“Merry Christmas little girl! What can Santa give you this Christmas?”

“The question is, what can this little girl give Santa.” She grinned sensuously as he blushed, her heart tripping over itself anew.

As explicit and raw as he could sometimes be, from having sex in public to his raunchy sense of humor, she found his tender boyish vulnerability just as entrancing.

Tabitha held up the shopping bag holding a can of eggnog and a bottle of Cask and Crème Liqueur. “I didn’t know how you were fixed for traditional fixings and didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

He wrapped his arms around her as she neared, kissed her slow and deep on the lips before pulling away to hold her at arm’s length and stare at her. “There’s nothing empty about you, Tabitha Lyons.” He slid a hand down, twined his fingers through hers and drew her into the loft. He waved to his little Charlie Brown tree with a flourish. “Just waiting for decorating.”

Oh, God, she couldn’t speak and it felt like her chest was going to explode.

Tabitha pushed the grocery bag into his hands and rushed to the bathroom.

“‘Was it something I said?”

She closed the door, squeezed her moist eyes tight, took several deep breaths and tried to get a hold of herself. Sheesh, she’d been on the verge of hyperventilating, crying in front of him for no good reason except an attack of mushiness!

Tabitha turned on the faucet, splashed cool water on her face, took several more deep breaths and prayed she didn’t have a breakdown in front of him.

It’s just a tree, she told herself. Just a tree.

206

Beneath the Surface

Despite the fact that she’d never had one growing up, that her mother had never let her father get one because she didn’t want to “buy into all that commercialism shit,”

this tree was no big deal. No big deal at all.

Yeah, right.

When she emerged from the bathroom a couple of minutes after going in, Eric was anxiously waiting at the door.

“You okay?”

She nodded, sure her eyes were red or that some other part of her body gave away her instability—he was a body language expert after all—but he didn’t address her sudden disappearance and for that she was more than grateful.

“Thanks for the spirits and especially the eggnog. I forgot to get some.”

“I could drink it all year round if they sold it and since I don’t drink—”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to make me drink alone.”

“I, uh…”

“C’mon, today’s a celebration. You have to have at least one drink with me.” He took her by a hand, led her out of the bedroom and into the living room. “So, have any experience decorating a tree?”

“A little,” she lied, but figured with her eye for style and fashion she could wing it. “At least it’s not a big one.” It wasn’t quite Charlie Brownish, just a shade shorter than she was.

“The big one is at my Mom and Dad’s. I figure since we’re going over there for Christmas, I wouldn’t get a big one for just us.”

“We are?”

“Are what?”

“Going to your parents’ for Christmas.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I just assumed…” He paused, took both her hands in his and gave her a serious look. “Will you come with me to my parents’ house for Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah sure.”

“Please hold down your enthusiasm until tomorrow.”

She laughed, heart pounding a mile a minute. She tried to talk herself down, convinced she could handle a major holiday with the Vegas. She’d made it through a surprise party after all. Christmas should be a piece of cake.

“Oh, and while we’re at it, I might as well invite you to my parents’ anniversary party.”

Tabitha hedged. They were wading out of girlfriend waters and into something entirely deeper, more committed and permanent.

“C’mon, you might as well go for broke since you’re coming Christmas.”

207

Gracie C. McKeever

“When is it?”

“New Year’s Eve. We always have a little shindig for them with the immediate family, but this one’s going to be a big one, their fiftieth.”

“Wow.”

“We can go over there, bring in the New Year, and still go out and party if you want.”

Did he realize that going to his parents’ for a fiftieth wedding anniversary was party enough, and more than she ever did on New Year’s? More significant and real.

Against her better judgment she finally gave in and said, “Okay.”

“Okay you’ll come? Or okay, you want to party?”

“I want to come. I’m not much for partying though.”

“We’ll have to put a stop to that if you’re going to hang around us.”

“You and your big family.” She smiled, realizing she still had on her coat when Eric put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to remove it.

He took it over to the coat tree, hung it up and made his way back to her. “So, are you hungry? Or do you want to build up your appetite working on my pitiful tree?”

Tabitha walked over to the tree standing in a place of prominence behind his sofa, and circled it a few times. “It’s not pitiful. It’s got potential.” She turned to him. “Where are the decorations?”

He pointed her to a stack of boxes several feet away, and for the next hour they dug in filling out the tree with gold and silver tinsel, colored lights and balls.

Eric handed Tabitha a light-up angel and she reverently placed it at the top of the tree, stepped back and waited as he cut off the living room lights and cut on the Christmas tree lights.

I will not cry. I won’t…
God, she’d had no idea she had such a squishy streak!

Tabitha started when Eric sidled behind her and slid an arm around her shoulders.

“Nice work,” he murmured.

“I had help.”

He turned her in his arms and kissed her, mouth tasting of the sweet and potent liqueur she’d brought, almost as intoxicating as his natural flavor and scent.

She groaned and opened to him completely, enfolded him in her arms, holding him close as she met his tongue with fervor and his erection insistently pressed against her belly.

“I want to hold your naked body in my arms so bad, Tabitha. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to feel you against me again.” He backed her against the wall nearby, quickly going to work on her blouse’s buttons.

208

Beneath the Surface

When he talked like that he made her feel like the most desirable and secure woman in the world, though she knew the truth. That he couldn’t love her near as much as she loved him, and that he wouldn’t hang around for as long as it took him to realize he’d made a mistake in dumping the exciting and exotic Ms. Secret, for the boring and staid Tabitha Lyons.

Eric parted her blouse, exposing the top of a sexy lace teddy. He splayed a hand against her abdomen, reverently stroked the black and silver nylon spandex with a thumb, material blocking his way to her skin, pulled down one strap and cup with his other hand, revealed a naked breast and bent his head to greedily suckle.

She closed her eyes and arched against him as he completely removed her blouse, tossed it aside, jerked the teddy down to her waist, then unbuttoned and unzipped her trousers.

Tabitha frantically worked on the button and zipper of his jeans, reached into his fly once it was open, freed and grasped his hard shaft as if it were a life preserver.

“God, I can’t wait to have you,” he growled.

“You don’t have to.” She squeezed him for emphasis, caressed and teased the slit in his head and absorbed his groan as he leaned in to kiss her mouth again.