Saints and Sinners (A Classic Romance) (17 page)

She'd learned something as she'd listened, rapt, to his message. He believed that death and dying were extensions of life and living, and his words were so convincing, so soothing, she found her bitterness softening.

She'd endured such a terrible blow when Alexis had died. But Matthew, though unaware of her loss, had eased her rage at the horrible injustice of it all.

As Dee struck the last chord, warm palms smoothed over her shoulders. "I sent Jason and Loren home to set the table," Matthew said. "For four, since I invited myself over. They were more than happy to volunteer."

"You're kidding me." Swiveling on the piano stool, she saw that his cheeks were ruddy from the cold. She touched them. Like ice.
Ice.
Her own cheeks flared hotly. "Usually they argue about who takes the duty. How you do it, Matthew, I don't know. But whatever the means, I'm glad it works."

"Bribery. Shameless bribery. I happened to mention that after lunch I need help picking out your Christmas tree. You can come too—for a price."

"Clearing the table?"

"No, dessert. I'd like dessert after they're asleep. Something sweet and delicious."

"You must mean the divinity I made."

"Wrong again.
Ice
—" He chuckled wickedly when Dee moaned. All she had to imagine to burn with need was the clink of cubes in a glass. "—Cream," he added, laughing.

"Rev. Peters, you are a very sneaky man."

"Uh-huh. And a very needy man too." The glide of his palms down her arms was exciting. "I need you tonight, Dee. This evening I have to attend Andy's wake. While I'm there I'd like to know you're waiting for me."

She wanted to tell him that she would willingly wait each and every night they lived. She wanted to tell him she fell more in love with him with each passing day. She compromised and let her eyes say what she couldn't.

"Yes, Matthew. I'll be there for you tonight."

His somber gaze lightened at the promise. "With dessert?"

"Not only are you sneaky, you are impossible."

"But not a bad employer, huh?"

"That was sneaky too. But... you're okay."

"Okay?" he protested. "I'm great! The best. How many guys do you know who'd plan to attend each choir practice when they're not even singing in the Christmas program?"

"You didn't mention that yesterday. I hope this doesn't mean we have to perform to your standards of approval." Unable to resist, Dee added meaningfully, "Especially knowing how uncompromising your standards are."

"Touché," he said, grinning.

Arm in arm they went to gather their coats. Matthew helped Dee into hers, his arms wrapping possessively around her once she had it on. "I could get used to seeing you at the piano every Sunday. We make a good team, you and me."

Swallowing hard, she broke free and pushed open the door. Chilly wind caused her eyes to smart, and she was thankful to have winter to blame for the tears that blurred her vision.

In silence they walked across the street to join Loren and Jason, who were coming to depend as heavily on Matt as she was. Matthew, the strongest man she'd ever known, needed her. Their relationship was growing more complex by the day—and it was twisting her up.

Glancing behind them, Dee saw the two sets of footprints they'd made, placed side by side. She couldn't help but liken them to how close she and Matt had become. But snow melted with the changing of seasons.

She and Matthew. Like footprints in the snow.

Chapter 12

'"We wish you a merry Christmas...'"All evening long Dee's and Matt's voices had blended in perfect harmony, but the same couldn't be said for those of the rest of the Christmas Eve carolers.

There were sixteen of them, and everyone was huddled close outside the last house they were visiting. Dee, standing in front of Matt, jumped when she felt a light squeeze on her behind. Turning just far enough to shoot Matt a warning glare, she noticed he was looking over her head and smiling as innocently as an angel. She couldn't help but grin herself.

Dee had never felt happier in her life, and it was with great joy that she sang the rest of the song, then shouted "Merry Christmas!" along with the others.

As soon as the group broke up for their private celebrations, she and Matthew and the two children turned for home. A few blocks shy, Matt and Jason darted to a pile of snow.

"It's the boys against the girls," they crowed before Matt pitched the first snowball, which hit Dee's back. She yelped in feigned outrage, then she and Loren ran for the cover of a huge spruce tree. A fight ensued, with all four getting covered with snow. Matthew ended the jubilant brawl by storming the tree and pouncing on Dee. They tumbled to the ground with Matthew on top.

Dee was still laughing when she noticed his face was inches from hers, the white puffs of her breath mingling with his. He was pressed intimately between her legs and fully aroused.

"I'd kiss you," he said hoarsely, "except there's no mistletoe." He bounded up, then helped her to her feet. As he was brushing her off, he whispered, "Besides, where I want most to kiss you isn't permissible in public places."

"That's... kinky," she whispered back.

He swiped a snow-flake from her nose. "Just think, Dee, we could be kinky and live on the edge of danger together ever after."

Dee forced herself to laugh and hid her flinch by turning away from him and facing the children. "Who wants to put out cookies and milk for Santa?"

"Cookies and milk for Santa," they repeated, groaning. "Aw, c'mon, Dee, we haven't done something that dumb in years."

"No," she said, still off balance. "No, of course not. But this year is different. Matt's sharing Christmas with us."

"And I agree with the kids. That's a dumb idea," Matt chimed in. "But leaving a spread like sausage and cheese and champagne, that's more like it. Takes more time than cookies and milk though, so the sooner you kids get to work, the sooner you'll be in bed and have Saint Nick parking his sleigh at your door. That is... unless you're too old for him to put his presents under the tree?"

"No way! I'm going home." Jason was already running.

Loren looked at the two adults. "No hanky panky now," she singsonged before following Jason.

Matthew quirked a brow.

Dee shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder if we're too affectionate in front of them. Matt. I don't want us to be a bad influence."

"We're good for them.
I'm
good for them," he asserted, reminding her of yet another reason she needed him in her life. "And it's healthy for kids to see two adults show they care for each other."

They'd started walking, his arm around her shoulders, but now Matthew slowed his pace to a stop. "Didn't they ever see your—your..."He had trouble getting the word out. "Did your husbands, either of them, display affection toward you?"

"No," she quickly answered.

"You never talk about them. Why not?"

"Because I don't like to remember."

"For once I wish you would. I have a need to know, Dee."

"And I have a need to forget. I don't want to taint what we have by dredging up old memories."

"Do they keep in touch?" Matt persisted, driven by a compulsion to dig into her past at the same time that he shunned the thought of other men intimately knowing and loving the only woman he'd ever wanted to share his life with. "I half expected to see their dad show up bearing gifts since there aren't any with his name as the giver under the tree. Even distant fathers often send Christmas presents—to salve their conscience or whatever."

He felt her shoulders tense. When Dee spoke, her voice seemed guarded, on edge.

"These men, Matthew, they're... not like you."

"Then, what
are
they like?" He wanted to ask what they were like in and out of bed. Why she'd divorced one and chosen no better with the other. He gritted his teeth while questions and jealousy crowded to get out.

"I want to know about their father," he said when Dee remained silent. "I want to know why you married him, divorced him. What he does for a living, and why the kids don't have so much as a trinket to show for his existence under the tree. I want to know who your second husband was and why the children don't even mention his name."

"Matthew, stop." Dee wouldn't look at him, but if her eyes matched her voice, they were pleading. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters greatly to me. You're a fine and gifted woman, Dee, and what you are now doesn't mesh with who you must have been." He tried to force her to meet his probing gaze, but her eyes darted away. "Help me to understand. Tell me what kind of parents would let their daughter be sucked into a harmful relationship and have two babies by the time she was seventeen. Didn't they love you? Didn't they care?"

"Of course they loved me," she said in their defense. "They've always cared. And they still care for... him."

"Him. Jason and Loren's father. What was he, a kid himself, some horny nitwit who didn't know how to use a damn rubber? Or was he older, able to seduce a young girl and blind her parents to something so wrong?"

"He's much older than me."

"I thought so. And he's rich, isn't he?"

"How could you know that?" she demanded.

"The kids come from money. Once when we were having canned salmon patties for dinner, I heard Loren mutter something under her breath about missing having a cook."

Dee's sigh sounded of relief. "Okay, so what? Having been rich is not a crime."

"No, but molestation is. Tell me, did he buy off your parents to gain a child bride and hush a scandal?" Something suddenly occurred to Matt. Why hadn't he thought of it before? "Were you ever married to
him?"

"No," she said haltingly. "No, Vince and I were never married."

"Ah, Vince.
He
has a name. What about the other one? A name, Dee, I want a name."

"Nick. All right, Nick!" She visibly shuddered. "Enough questions, no more."

"I want to know everything there is to know about this scum named Vince. Then you can get to Nick. How long you were together, how he treated you—"

"Nick's a lawyer. A sleaze-ball lawyer. That's all I'm telling you and it's more than I should have."

She darted off, making it as far as the parsonage before he caught up with her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadows. They were both breathing hard, the cold air burning their throats. Matthew's burned even more from the questions he finally refused to choke back.

"I keep telling myself that any day you'll trust me. Trust me now, Dee. Give me a piece of your past so we can get on with our future. It's time we moved forward."

"We have no future, Matt. Not the kind you want or deserve." She pushed at his chest, but he refused to move. "Let me go. You can come with me or you can go it alone. Either way I'm not giving you any answers."

His rage was swift and deep. He'd never shaken a woman before, but at the moment he wanted to shake every detail about her life loose from her head.

"You tell me we have no future and expect me to let you go with that? Haven't you learned anything about me, or at least guessed I've only been biding my time before calling your bluff? You love me." He did shake her then. "You love me, dammit. And tonight you're saying those three words, even if you confess nothing else."

"No!" When she struggled against him, he locked her in his arms. "I can't. I won't. And you can't force it from me."

"You can. You will. And I won't have to force what's already there."

"No—no, I feel nothing—"

"You're running, Dee. If not from them, then from what you feel for me. You feel love. You feel
this."
He placed a hand over the juncture of her thighs. "You're wet."

"It's from the snow when we fell."

"Then you don't need to worry about me making sure that this isn't another one of your lies."

He pulled her inside his house, then tugged off a glove with his teeth. There in the dark hallway, he breached her pants and probed her intimately with a finger.

Her legs nearly buckled. "Don't want you," she cried. "Can't want you, Matthew—"