Winter Kisses (8 page)

Connecticut

“I
t's been two days,” Karena said with a sigh.

“They're fine, baby.” Sam kneaded her shoulders then moved down to her back.

“No, they're not. Alex's probably dead and stuffed in a closet by now. Monica does not have a high tolerance level.”

Sam chuckled. “She's not a murderer, either.”

“Whatever. You laugh if you want, but something's definitely going on up there and I don't think it's good.”

Before Sam could reply Karena's cell phone rang. He scooped it off the coffee table and handed it to her.

“Karena Desdune,” she answered. It was the ringtone of a business call.

“Mrs. Desdune, this is Adonna from the gallery.”

“Yes. Adonna, how can I help you?” She wasn't sure why Monica's assistant was calling her but it couldn't be a good thing.

“I'm trying to get in touch with Ms. Lakefield. I have an urgent message for her as well as a package that arrived yesterday morning. I've been calling her cell and emailing her but I'm not getting any response. I thought she'd be back in town by now so I figured I'd give you a call to see if you could advise what I should do.”

Adonna Banks did whatever Monica instructed her to do. She'd been Monica's assistant for the past five years and knew her job inside and out—which really translated to her knowing how to avoid Monica's wrath at all times. So if she was calling Karena at almost ten o'clock on a weeknight then it must be urgent.

“Who is the message from? Maybe I can handle this before Monica returns,” Karena said since she had no idea what her sister was doing or when she would return.

“It's from a Yates Hinton. I've never heard the name before and he's not a client. But he's been calling here nonstop. I think the package is from him, as well. He says its imperative that he speak to Monica as soon as possible. He even asked if I could give out her cell-phone number or the number to where she's staying.”

Karena was not happy that Adonna had been right. If Adonna hadn't heard of someone and they were calling the gallery for Monica then it couldn't be about gallery business. Which was strange because everyone knew Monica didn't have a personal life.

“Give me his number. I'll give him a call and see what I can get out of him.”

While Adonna read off the number Karena motioned
for Sam to get her something to write with. As she jotted down the name and number she assured Adonna she would take care of everything and not to worry. Even though a very small part of her had begun to do just that.

Disconnecting with Adonna, Karena immediately dialed the number she'd written down and received an automated voice-mail message. With a frown she left a message stating that she was calling for Monica and that he could get in touch with Karena instead.

“What was that all about?” Sam asked the moment she finished leaving the message.

“Monica's assistant says this guy's been looking for Monica and sent some package to the gallery for her. He's being very persistent so Adonna wanted to know if I knew when Monica would be back so she could give this man some type of answer.”

“Isn't it her job to brush people off until Monica gets back?”

Karena nodded, looking down at the slip of paper she'd written the number on. “Yeah, it is. And Adonna's usually really good at it. So if she's calling me, this guy must really be working her nerves. Anyway, I told him he can contact me if what he needs is urgent.”

“But you don't think it is?” Sam asked, watching his wife carefully.

“Truth is, I don't know what to think about it. I've never heard this guy's name before so I wonder how he even knows Monica.”

“She's not a hermit, Karena. She's made a lot of business connections. Maybe she's following up on more stock for the gallery.”

“Maybe,” Karena said, sitting back and vowing to
enjoy the back rub her husband was so intent on giving her. But “maybe” didn't sit well with her.

 

Monica's eyes closed of their own accord as contentment flowed generously through her body. It started at her feet, right in the center, then up to the balls, over the toes then back down to the heels. Sensations moved from that locale upward, settling in her calves until they were warm and tingling, easing up to her thighs until they had their own heat spearing through them, pressing into her center that now throbbed and wept for attention of its own. Her breasts were heavy, nipples tingling; her arms felt languid, her mouth slack as her tongue slid slowly over puckered lips.

Alex was giving her a foot massage.

But it felt as if he were massaging every part of her body. She'd never felt so relaxed and simultaneously aroused before in her life. He'd taken a few pillows from the sofa, laid them on the floor and instructed her to lie on them. She did as he asked even though she wasn't totally sure she should. When she'd been in the bedroom there was a chill in the air, an attestation to the fact that the electricity was out. Since the cabin obviously operated on all things electric, there was no heat. But here, in front of the still-roaring fire and being touched by this man, Monica was on fire.

She knew she should tell him to stop. Every time he touched her, every time they were together, memories of her past crept closer to the surface. Alex was a different kind of man, she kept telling herself. Still, she'd thought she'd known before, thought the man was exactly who he said he was. She'd been wrong.

When his hands moved from her feet to cup her
calves then up even farther to brush along her thighs, Monica shivered and twisted a little. His touch grew stronger, fingers pressing into her inner thighs. While her heart hammered in her chest, her vaginal muscles clenching with expectation, the increased pressure from his hands changed something in her mind.

Monica tried to move again, wiggled so that she would be free of his grasp. She heard him mumble something but his hands didn't leave her body. He was closer now, his lips brushing along her jawline. She turned her head, but still didn't open her eyes. Pressing her elbows into the pillows and her heels to the floor, she tried to move away, to get away. But he was heavy and he was on top of her, holding her hostage…again.

She had to get away, that was all Monica could think. So she began kicking, her arms flailing, slapping against him. She wanted to scream but no sound came from her mouth. All she knew was that she had to get away, to keep him away. He wasn't going to do this to her, she wouldn't let him, not ever again.

When her palm connected with his cheek, her knee barely missing his groin, Alex knew something had happened. They'd gone from a sensual foot rub to something he couldn't explain. Her eyes were closed so for a second he thought maybe she was asleep. But no, she'd been with him just a minute ago. Moaning and panting, wanting his touch as desperately as he'd wanted to touch her. Then she'd gone buck wild. Instincts had him catching her wrists before she could slap him again. He half rolled off her just to get out of the line of fire of her flailing legs, but he held her wrists. He gave her a shake until her eyes opened. Alex wasn't pleased with what he saw.

“Get away from me! Let me go!” she yelled.

He recognized fear when he saw it and figured the best thing to do was to gain back a level of trust. It was obvious she was mistaking him for someone else but she wasn't up to hearing that right now. So Alex let her go, got to his knees then stood watching as she scrambled across the floor, putting distance between them. When she finally stood he took a step toward her.

“No!” She held out both arms to stop his procession.

“Just take a couple deep breaths,” he instructed her from where he stood. “You're not there anymore, baby. You're here with me.”

She was shaking her head, her long hair swishing and wrapping around her shoulders like a cloak. “I won't go there again. I won't.”

“You don't have to,” he said with rage so raw his throat felt scratchy. He wanted to touch her, to wrap his arms around her until she felt safe again. Instead he took one tentative step toward her.

“I can't do this,” she whispered, her hands covering her face.

Alex was beside her now, reaching out to touch a hand to her shoulder. “It's okay. Everything's okay now. I won't let him hurt you.”

More like he'd kill the sonofabitch if he even thought about putting a hand on her again. Because Alex knew this fear, he knew that look she'd had in her eyes, the fight-or-flight way she'd gotten the hell away from him. That look would be permanently etched in his mind after seeing the way his last secretary looked every morning after her husband had beat her. Every morning except the one when she hadn't come in to work, because the jerk had finally killed her.

Now he was seeing it again and hating it even more because this time it was Monica. Everything in him wanted to fight, to kill, to claim this woman from the man who'd terrorized her—the bastard who'd hit her.

“No,” she said without the punch her voice had held before. She took another step away from him and looked up at him, not bothering to fix her hair or stand in that ramrod-straight way she normally did with her chin held high.

What she looked right at this very moment was defeated and still afraid, maybe not of him but of what she'd remembered, what she'd thought might be happening to her again.

“I need to get out of here. I need to go home.”

“Baby, listen to me—”

“I'm not your baby,” she said defiantly. “I'm nobody's baby.”

Alex nodded. “Monica.”

“Don't, Alex. I'm not doing this with you. None of this. Let's just forget about the last couple of days, forget we were stranded here. Just forget it all.”

“I can't do that” was his honest reply.

“Then that's your problem,” she said before turning and running into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

He wanted to go after her, wanted to demand she open the door, or, hell, kick the damn thing in. But he didn't.

Instead he went to the couch and sat down, let his head fall into his hands and prayed that he'd never come face-to-face with the bastard stupid enough to put his hands on Monica Lakefield.

A
lex awoke the next morning to a searing pain in his back from sleeping on the couch and a slight chill because the fire had long since burned out. He'd had a blanket but it wasn't conducive to his six-foot-three-inch-and-a-half stature so the bulk of the night he'd spent uncovered. When he sat up, letting his feet fall to the floor, a sound coming from outside startled him.

He went to the window and was partially relieved to see a snowplow making its way down the path in front of the cabin. He went to the first rustic-looking lamp he saw and switched it on. The electricity was back and the plows were out.

Monica would be ready to find her own room.

That thought hit him with a pang. After last night he definitely wanted more time with her. He wanted to know what had happened to her and he wanted to help
her cope with her past so she could move on with her future. Even more so, he wanted the guy's name who'd put his hands on her. Alex knew that was a tidbit of information Monica would never willingly give him. Still, he planned to find out anyway.

He found his cell phone in the dining room and dug through one of his bags for the charger. After plugging it into the wall, he waited until the green light signaled it was charging. Then he went back into the living room to find the cell phone that Monica had reluctantly abandoned two days ago. Alex found her charger right next to it and plugged it into the wall. He wasn't certain it would work since when he removed the battery it looked as if the device had sustained substantial water damage. But he'd give it a try, for her. No doubt she'd be looking for the phone the minute she awakened and realized the electricity was back on.

Alex then retrieved his laptop, went back to sit on the couch he'd cursed all night and waited for it to boot up. He wanted to send a couple of emails before dealing with Monica and her stubborn attitude this morning. First, he sent a quick email to Renny to let him know that both he and Monica had braved the storm and were now among the land of the living with electricity and heat. He emailed a quick hello to his parents. Then he opened another email box and began to type.

 

Monica had been up for hours. To tell the truth, she'd never really fallen asleep. Guilt and embarrassment were worse than caffeine when it came to going to sleep. She'd lain in that bed staring at the ceiling, pulling the blankets up to her neck since she wasn't about to ask Alex to light the fireplace in the bedroom, and
she'd closed and locked the door so any semblance of heat from the fireplace in the living room wasn't getting in. That didn't matter; she could survive the cold. Surviving the humiliating scene that had played out in the living room wasn't going to be as easy.

She'd acted like a complete idiot. Well, to her credit, she hadn't been able to help it. The past had mixed with the present and that wasn't good. She remembered the past so vividly even though it had become her daily mantra to forget. The past had been humiliating, as well. The present—Alex—wasn't supposed to end this way. It was going to end. Whatever was going on between them, that was a given. She couldn't have it any other way. But it was supposed to end on her terms, with her walking away head held high. Instead she'd run away, again.

About two hours ago she'd realized the electricity was back on and she'd snuck out of the room to finally get a hot shower and change her clothes. Now her bags were packed and she was more than ready to leave this cabin and find her own room until she could secure a return flight back to New York. She could have left an hour ago, but something about sneaking out while Alex slept didn't sit well with her. She couldn't run forever. Besides, Alex struck her as the type of man who'd show up on her doorstep back home. Better she get the confrontation with him over with now.

It was almost ten in the morning when she put her bags on her arms and walked out of the room. The cabin was quiet and she wondered if Alex was actually still asleep. She'd thought she heard him moving around, but outside her window she'd noted there was some cleanup activity going on. Wherever the noise had
come from she was on her way to the living room and then to the door.

Alex was already there.

She stopped the moment she saw him standing near the door. He had on his coat and boots and looked even more delicious than he had when he was dressed only in sweats and a T-shirt. Today, however, he also looked dangerous. When he heard her approach he turned to look at her.

“Mornin',” he said in a deep drawl. His eyes took in everything, from her neatly pulled-back hair to the tips of her black leather boots and no doubt the bags she had draped over her shoulder.

Monica stopped, stood still and said, “Good morning.”

“I was just going to check to see if they've finished shoveling the front path. I'm all packed and rented a car already so we can be on our way just as soon as the roads out are cleared.”

“We?” she asked, trying to digest everything he'd said.

He'd just opened the door so chilly air swept inside, making her shiver.

“Yes, we. There are still no available rooms here, but there's a small town just down the mountain. We can drive there, get a room for the night then take the flight out on New Year's Eve. I've already secured us two tickets since we missed our previous flights due to the storm.”

“Ah, okay,” she said, not sure if he was being high-handed and presumptuous or just kindhearted and considerate. “Have you seen my phone?”

Alex slipped his leather jacket on and took a step
outside. “It's in the living room charging. I suggest you try one of our phones. The battery is more stable and we have a patented waterproof coating. If not, then you're definitely going to need a new battery for yours when you get home.”

“Thanks,” she replied just as he was closing the door.

When she was alone Monica put down her bags and moved into the living room. Her phone was on one of the end tables plugged into a charger. As she lifted it up she could hear his voice telling her she'd need a new one. Closing her eyes with the phone in her hand she heard him last night trying to calm her, to comfort her. And she'd turned him away.

That had been the right move. Protecting herself was a necessity now, not just the habit that everyone thought it was. She couldn't give any part of herself again, couldn't risk the pain and humiliation she'd endured the last time. So what if she was becoming one of the proverbial angry sistahs with attitude. Monica didn't give a damn what people thought about her.

But maybe she did. Maybe that was the real reason she'd kept what happened in South Carolina a secret. She'd never told anyone, not even her sisters what Yates had done to her. And she never would. No one would believe her—that's what he'd told her. And she believed him. Even after all this time, after all the lies that had been uncovered, after the ultimate betrayal, the one thing Yates had said that she truly believed in her heart was that nobody would ever believe her story.

“We're all set,” he said from behind, causing Monica to jump.

She cleared her throat. “All right. I'll just get my coat and my bags.” Not turning around to face him,
she pulled the charger cord from the wall and wrapped it in her hand.

“I'll take your bags to the car. Button up tight. It's really cold out here.”

And then he was gone.

His niceness was going to undo her, Monica was certain. Alex wasn't mentioning what happened last night, no doubt giving her the space he figured she needed to deal with it on her own. She had to respect him for that. The fact that he'd gotten up and secured them a way out of this cabin and back to the city was no small feat and one she was very thankful for, even if she hadn't expressed that to him.

When she was secured in the passenger seat of the white SUV Alex had rented and he was in the driver's seat driving slowly down the slope that led from their infamous cabin retreat, Monica spoke quietly.

“Thank you for being so considerate. I really appreciate it.”

“You're welcome.”

For the next two and a half hours Alex didn't say another word. And strange as it might seem, Monica really wanted him to. She wanted him to talk about his family or ask about hers, talk about his job or hers or the weather, something. This silence was grating on her nerves.

“I'm not all bad, you know,” she heard herself saying before she could question why.

“Never said you were” was his simple reply.

“I know people think I'm a bitch. But I'm really not.”

“People usually think one-dimensionally. Your personality gives off cold vibes. It stands to reason people would think you're a bitch.”

“But I'm not,” she replied adamantly.

“I don't usually think like other people.” He glanced over at her before looking back at the road. “I knew there was more to you the first time I saw you.”

That held her quiet.

“I knew there was more to you, too.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, I knew you were going to be difficult.”

“Because I'm tenacious.” He smiled. “I've heard that before.”

“No. Because I knew you saw something else. It's like no matter what face I put on when you were around, you saw through it.” She looked out the window, watching the endless stretch of white that was the hills and land beyond the roads. As for the road itself, it was a slushy dirt-brown mush that took away from the otherwise pristine scenery. The scenery that was sterile, aloof, alone. Why that thought stuck like a brick in her chest, Monica had no idea.

“You can't hide forever, Queen. And whatever happened in your past isn't worth you trying to.”

“What happened in your past, Alex? Why aren't you happily married to some wonderful woman, giving her all this caring and compassion you seem to have bottled up?”

“I've had some rocky relationships and the reason I'm not happily married is because I haven't found the right woman.”

“The perfect woman, you mean. The woman that you give your heart to has to be perfect, right?”

“No. She has to be the woman for me, the woman that I go to sleep thinking about and wake up wanting desperately to see. I don't care if she's successful in business or a waitress depending on her tips to make
her monthly bills. I'm not looking on the outside for the woman of my dreams, but on the inside because that's where she truly is.”

She sighed. “So poetic. So thought-out. I should have expected nothing less.”

“Do you want to argue, Queen? Or do you want to get to know each other better? I can do both. I just need to know which way the conversation is headed.”

“I'm not—” she started to say but was cut off by the abrupt swaying of the SUV.

Alex had been watching the rearview mirror as he'd been talking to Monica. There was a smaller black SUV right behind them. The windows were tinted dark so he couldn't see if it was a man or woman driving. He'd noted how close the other vehicle seemed to be tailing them, but figured maybe the other driver wanted to keep close since they were traveling under the speed limit on the slush-packed road with puddles and patches of snow as well as ice. It was rugged terrain that called for cautious driving. So when the other vehicle had suddenly picked up speed Alex knew it wasn't going to be good.

The black SUV had crossed into the other lane, coming up beside them and turning so that the vehicles would collide. Alex, thinking quickly, turned the steering wheel, pulling their vehicle away from the other one. Monica didn't scream but held on to the handle over the passenger window as the SUV jerked and swayed.

They must have hit a patch of ice because suddenly the tires went haywire, the steering wheel becoming only a fixture in the truck as Alex lost all control. Extending an arm outward and over Monica's chest, he
attempted to protect her as they tumbled onto the side of the road. A hill of snow blanketed the front half of the truck, planting them lopsided on and off the road.

When their vehicle stopped Alex fumbled to get the seat belt off. “Stay here!” he yelled at Monica then pushed his door open and jumped out into the snow.

How he thought he was going to run after the other vehicle when the snow came up to his knees Alex had no clue, but he stomped through, kicking snow everywhere in his attempt.

The other vehicle sped off, kicking up more snow and slush in a rain of white as Alex's curses joined the commotion.

After making his way back to the truck, he went right to the passenger-side door and reached for the handle. He was shocked to find Monica still holding the handle, her entire body shaking. Clenching his teeth at the sight, he took a deep breath then reached over to undo her seat belt. With careful motions he touched her fingers, unwrapped them from the handle and pulled her into his arms.

“It's okay, Queen. You're okay. Just a little fender bender.” He held her close. Alex had a suspicion it was more than that.