Holiday Bound (13 page)

Angeline just stared in stark disbelief when Mitchell looked to her, an appeal in his eyes.

“I thought there was an excellent chance of getting you two together.” Mitchell glanced back at his son imploringly. “Don’t you see? It was my way of showing you I really
do
care. What better gift could I have given you, son?”

A thick, awful silence ensued.

“Don’t you dare call me
son
,” Alex growled aggressively at the same moment that Angeline yelled, “What’d’ya
mean
you knew I’d be such an
asset
to him?
No
,” she bit out sharply when Mitchell tried to interrupt her, his manner conciliatory. “Are you trying to tell me the only reason you asked me out to begin with was to play
pimp
for your son?”

“Angeline—” Alex began tensely, but Mitchell cut him off.

“Well, God knows you’re not
my
type,” Mitchell said.

Angeline just stood there, horrified, as Mitchell Carradine, charming, handsome, sophisticated name partner at Littleton, Marks and Carradine glanced down over her body. She watched, as if through a department store window, as Alex hauled back with his fist and clobbered his own father.

In that volatile, disoriented moment, Angeline couldn’t say she was sorry.

How could so much have changed so quickly?

Not only had she fallen for Mitchell’s son, but she’d discovered that Alex had every right to carry such deep resentment for his father. Mitchell had been speechless with fury when he’d staggered up from the kitchen floor following Alex’s punch, clutching his streaming right eye. He’d just stood there, wavering in his expensive leather boots for a few seconds as he glared at his son with a mixture of fear, anger and sheer disbelief.

When he’d opened his mouth, looking like he was about to lecture Alex, Alex’d lunged. Mitchell had scurried out the back door and neither Alex nor Angeline had seen a glimpse of him since then.

Those things were bad enough, but they weren’t even the kicker, Angeline thought as she adjusted the thermostat in her condo and her furnace kicked on.

The real knockout punch had come after Mitchell had left and Alex had returned from plowing his driveway and the road with a snowplow he owned. Angeline suspected he’d entered into the flurry of activity in order to cool his frothing temper. She recalled the way he’d studied her when he returned from plowing, his glance quick and concerned, as though he searched for cuts and bruises after a battle.

Then he’d looked away, and Angeline’s stomach had felt like it dropped.

“I’m sorry about this, Angeline. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in a family battle.”

She’d smiled reassuringly and stepped toward him. She stilled when he took one step back.

“You’re not to blame for your father’s bad behavior, Alex.”

He said nothing, but she saw the tension in his jaw.

“Alex.”

She waited until he turned the full impact of his stare on her. When she saw the uncertainty…the regret…in eyes, where she’d only seen stubbornness and fierce pride before, her breath popped out of her lungs. She’d been stunned by Mitchell’s crass display of insensitivity earlier, but the hesitancy in Alex’s gaze left her reeling. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she’d been relying on his steadfast attitude that their being together was right. It’d been his pillar of certitude that she’d clung to during her storm of doubt.

“You said what was happening between us had
nothing
to do with Mitchell,” she’d said in rising disbelief.

“I didn’t think it did,” he mumbled.

“But you’ve changed your mind?”

“Look, Angel—”

“
Don’t
call me that,” she snapped, drawing herself up tall despite the sudden ache in her side…the pain of a wounded pride, a stark reminder of her foolishness.

He sighed dispiritedly. “You’re misunderstanding me. It just…it was a shock to hear him say he’d planned for you and me to get together. Don’t tell me it didn’t flatten you as well. I just need some time to absorb it all.”

Angeline shook her head as the truth settled on her chest like a weight. “I don’t believe it. Could you be any
more
obvious, Alex?”

Fire flickered in his blue eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked slowly.

“Just that the idea of fucking me seemed real appealing to you when you thought you were screwing dear daddy over in the process. But the second you find out you were actually dancing to your father’s tune all along, doing
exactly
what he wanted…well I suddenly don’t seem too interesting anymore, do I, Alex? Mitchell always said you were a rebel without a clue.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” he roared. He closed his eyes as if he’d been surprised by the fury in his voice. “Goddammit, Angeline,” he said more quietly. “Please don’t make this worse than it is.”

Angeline had never really
tasted
bitterness before that moment.

“Of
course
. I wouldn’t want this to be any harder on you than it already is, Alex. You say you need some time? Tell you what. You’ve got all the time in the world.”

She’d stormed off into the bathroom and slammed the door, turning on the faucet so Alex wouldn’t hear her furious, bitter crying.

It was incredible. She’d given herself so completely to him. It made her cringe to think of how she’d submitted utterly to him sexually…submitted to her own flagrant desire.

And it had felt so good…so
right
.

How could she have given so much trust to such an unworthy man?

Angeline needn’t have turned on the faucet to muffle her tears of hurt and shame at her own stupidity. When she’d exited the bathroom a while later, she was alone in the house. She’d grabbed her bag and made a beeline for the back door, determined to free her SUV from the snow and ice now that she had plenty of bright sunshine to see what she was doing.

She’d paused at the back door, another wave of hurt going through her when she saw her SUV parked in the driveway.

Obviously Alex had wanted to hasten her departure.

Even though the sun shone gloriously after the snowstorm, Angeline saw everything in gray as she tossed her duffel bag into the passenger seat. The keys were in the ignition. Alex must have left them there. She was surprised he hadn’t left the motor running.

She drove to Chicago without stopping once, her mind churning furiously the whole time. One thing kept occurring to her like a refrain from a song she couldn’t stop replaying in her head. It echoed around her skull even as she sat there numbly in her lonely condominium that night.

She’d been the queen of all idiots for throwing herself into the crap that existed between Mitchell and Alex Carradine. It hurt like hell to think of how rigid and cold Alex’s ruggedly handsome face looked there at the end, but she had no one but herself to blame.

She stood wearily from her couch, her eyes glued to her small, fake Christmas tree. She couldn’t help but recall the perfect, fragrant tree Alex had cut down for her, couldn’t stop herself from recalling how his smile reached all the way to his blue eyes as he’d watched her while she made a show of switching on the lights once it was decorated.

She grabbed her duffel bag and headed down the hallway to her bedroom. She didn’t even bother to unpack, just wiggled out of her jeans, tossed off her sweater and fell onto her bed.

“Merry effing Christmas,” she muttered bitterly as she pulled the covers over her head. She clamped her burning eyelids shut, determined to forget the past several days of her life had ever occurred.

Two days later, she sat in the back of a cab on her way from the offices of Littleton, Marks and Carradine to her condominium. The fact that she was practically the only person left working on the entire floor had gotten to her finally and she’d fled her office an hour early. She hadn’t planned on returning to work until tomorrow, her original intent had been to stay with Mitchell at his son’s resort until today.

Given the circumstances, she’d surprised her administrative assistant by returning to work the day after Christmas. Thankfully, she’d heard through the grapevine that Mitchell had stuck to his original vacation plans and hadn’t yet returned to the office.

It’d been bad enough keeping her thoughts focused on work—forcing her thoughts
away
from Alex Carradine—without having to worry about running into Mitchell as well.

She wondered, as she stared blankly out the cab window onto the snow-covered curb on Dearborn Avenue, if Mitchell would avoid returning to work as long as he sported the black eye Alex had given him. Just like she had on Christmas Day, Angeline experienced a savage feeling of satisfaction at the memory of Alex clocking his father while Mitchell stared at her so condescendingly.

What a jerk.

Obviously, she wasn’t doing a very good job of erasing either of the Carradine men from her mind altogether. It’d become exponentially more difficult to forget Alex ever since she’d finally gotten around to unpacking her duffel bag this morning.

Ever since she’d discovered what had been tucked between a sweater and a pair of jeans.

In her mind’s eye, she replayed for the thousandth time finding the hand-carved angel inside her duffel bag.

When had Alex put the angel in her bag? More importantly…
why
had he done it, especially after he’d made a point of reconsidering the wisdom of getting involved with her?

Angeline wished he wouldn’t have done it. Being able to dismiss Alex so wholly in her mind was only possible if she felt one hundred percent certain that he’d entirely rejected
her
.

Something caught her eye out of the corner of her vision.

“Wait,” she called out on an impulse to the cab driver. “I’ve changed my mind. Drop me off here, will you?”

A few seconds later, she stepped out on the curb, her eyes glued to the vision of the enormous, brightly lit Christmas tree in Daley Plaza. The air held the promise of snow, but the impending storm hadn’t kept people from traveling to the city during their Christmas holidays. Kids shouted with laughter as they flew down the makeshift slide on the Picasso sculpture. The shops in the little German village were doing a good business. Angeline caught the scent of hot chocolate and roasting chestnuts on the air.

She smiled a little wistfully before she wrapped her red scarf more tightly around her and headed toward the huge Christmas tree. What in the world had made her stop? Everyone looked so happy as they celebrated their holiday with family and friends. Was she some kind of masochist, intent on emphasizing the fact that she was alone and,
yeah
…a little heartbroken at Christmastime?

A tall man with dark hair wearing a black hip-length ski jacket turned from where he’d been standing gazing up at the Christmas tree. Angeline gasped in recognition.

As she stared open-mouthed at Alex Carradine, she admitted to herself she’d been kidding herself by saying she was a
little
heartbroken. One look into his familiar blue eyes and all the feelings he’d brought to life in her came flooding to the surface of her awareness.

Once she got past her initial shock at seeing him in Daley Plaza, she realized she had one small consolation to her mixed joy and anguish at running into him.

He looked every bit as surprised to see her as she did him.

“Angeline,” he said blankly before he took a step toward her.

“Alex. I…I didn’t know you’d be here.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t know you would be here, either.”

She swallowed what felt like grains of gravel in her throat and glanced unseeingly at the big Christmas tree. “You said it was your favorite place in the city at Christmastime.”

She sensed his smile rather than saw it. He came closer, stepping into the corners of her vision.

“You said it was your favorite place too.”

She shivered at the sound of his low, husky voice. “I guess it makes sense then. Why we’re both here,” she said, although in reality she didn’t think any of it made much sense at all.

“You left work early. Your administrative assistant told me you’d be at work until around five. I was just wasting time here until you left.”

She blinked and glanced up at him in surprise. He stood even closer than she’d thought he did. She wondered if his gaze on her was really so intent…so hot, or if it was an illusion cast from the thousands of lights on the Christmas tree.

“I was planning on waiting for you outside the offices of Littleton, Marks and Carradine.” He must have read the confusion and wonder on her face. “I don’t have your private phone number, Angeline. I don’t even know where you live. It was the only way I could find you. But instead…you came here.”

She was so dumbfounded by the message in his eyes—
how was it that he always managed to broadcast his need so blatantly to her?
—she found she didn’t know what to say for a few seconds. But the bitter memory of Christmas Day returned in a rush.

“So, am I to assume that you’ve had enough time to think about the misfortune of having seduced me?” she asked coldly.

He grimaced slightly and glanced away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for saying that, Angeline. Not because it wasn’t true,” he said suddenly when she opened her mouth to say something sarcastic. “I did need a little time to think about what had happened. I know I can’t expect you to understand the complexities of my father’s and my relationship.” He sighed heavily, causing a cloud of mist to form in front of his face. “I’m not even sure I
care
about the complexities anymore. See…the thing of it is, Angeline, when I told you that nothing between us had anything to do with Mitchell, I was wrong.”

She stiffened her spine and glared at him. “Astonish me.”

He gave her a dark glance. “What I
mean
is, in that moment when Mitchell implied…no when he flat out
said
he’d contrived for us to get together, I was so furious I couldn’t see straight. It was somehow even worse than considering that he’d asked you up there to flaunt that you were his in my face. Here I’d found this thing that felt like mine and mine alone, and he was claiming
he’d
been the one responsible for it. If you only knew…it was so
like
him. For a little bit, all I could feel was the
insult
of it.”