Yule Tidings (24 page)

Anne was glad Merle’s room was darkened.  She felt huge lying in his arms.  He was firm and strong, while she was all plump and soft.  Merle didn’t say a word as he kissed her slowly until she moaned for him.  He pulled her sweater over her head, following its ascent with soft kisses on her bare flesh.  Anne squirmed slightly, surprised by how good his hands felt, kneading her waist.  “I’ve never done this with anyone else.  I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.  After a few years with Franklin, she’d learned what he liked and didn’t like.  She never thought she’d have to start over again, and it both frightened and excited her. 

“Just relax and enjoy, sweet,” Merle murmured against her lips as he continued touching and kissing her.  Her skin felt wonderful, so smooth and soft against his work roughened fingertips.  He stripped his shirt off quickly, wanting to feel her skin against his.  They both gasped when their bodies touched, surprised by the sensations overcoming them. Anne tried to pull him against her, but he refused, holding her wrists above her head as he unbuttoned her pants with his free hand.  She wriggled and squirmed for him as he finished undressing her, kissing her ingratiatingly slowly.  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice breaking with need, as he looked down at her, nude on his bed.  She was plump and curvy in just the right places.  He kissed her tenderly, swallowing her moan of pleasure as he thrust himself deep inside her.

             
Merle watched Anne sleep.  What in the hell was he thinking, bringing her to his bedroom and making love to her?  He barely knew her!  He hadn’t let himself release until he felt her spasm over and over again around him.  It felt so wonderful to touch her and kiss her; and then to be inside her, he thought he was losing his mind.  It felt delicious.  He hadn’t made love to a woman in over three years and he’d forgotten just how wonderful it could be.  Anne snuggled against him, sighing in her sleep.  It had taken him a good thirty minutes to calm her down after they’d made love.  She’d been close to tears.  He should have known better.  She still had way too much healing to do from her divorce.  He hadn’t even used protection.  Merle shook his head.  Well, he doubted she could get pregnant anymore, and he knew she’d never slept with anyone except her husband.  He was still surprised at himself, though.  It was a good thing he’d thought to turn off the burner on the stovetop before leading her to his bedroom.  His house may well have set on fire for all he cared while he had his way with her. 

             
By midnight Merle could no longer ignore the naked body snuggled so closely against his own.  It was as though his body wanted to make up for the years of abstinence.  As he kissed Anne awake beside him, nuzzling her neck and suckling on her breasts, he felt her breath quicken in his hair.  She was amazingly responsive to his every kiss and caress.  When she touched him, timidly at first, then with more purpose, Merle nearly lost control.  It was awhile before they fell asleep, cuddled together under the blankets. 

Chapter Twenty-Six

             
Merle was alone when he finally woke at eight.  Anne’s clothes were no longer strewn across his floor, and he had a sinking sensation that he’d either dreamt the entire night, or he’d scared Anne off.  Either way he wouldn’t be pleased with the results.  He had a hard time believing he imagined making love to her.  He could still feel her skin under his fingertips.  Merle pulled on fresh underwear and pants, grabbing a white shirt from his drawer before walking down the hall.  Anne sat on the couch, staring into space.  She didn’t look particularly upset or happy, more contemplative. 
She’s going to want to talk,
Merle thought, stifling a groan.  He didn’t relish conversations of the heart.

             
Anne smiled as he sat next to her.  “How’d you sleep?” she asked softly, watching him closely.  She was embarrassed.  She’d behaved like some wanton woman last night, moaning and sighing, unable to resist his merest touch and caress.  He probably thought she was some kind of whore.

             
“Good.  I’m glad you stayed,” Merle didn’t know what to say to Anne.  He didn’t want her to feel bad about having sex with him.  It wasn’t like he’d meant to sleep with her, exactly.  “You?” He touched her hand awkwardly at first, before gripping it firmly within his own.  She was his and he didn’t want to let her go.

             
“Fine.”  Anne bit her lip nervously.  He was the first man to take notice of her since before her divorce and she’d slept with him in less than two weeks.  She couldn’t believe herself.  She was ashamed of herself.

             
“Anne,” Merle began, watching her lip tremble in silent trepidation.  Oh he hoped she wouldn’t cry.  He didn’t want a great night ruined by crying.  That just didn’t make any sense.  They were both consenting adults.  It wasn’t like they were young kids having their first fling.  Her lip quivered and Merle broke.  “Sweetheart, don’t cry, please.  Don’t ruin something special by crying,” Merle said softly, disheartened when she looked away from him.  He turned her face towards him, kissing the tears from her eyes.  “No more tears, please.  I don’t want to see you cry.”  Merle stroked her hair and back as he held her.  He wasn’t sure why she was crying.  It wasn’t like they’d had an affair.  Neither one of them was married or committed in any way.  He mumbled soothing words in her ear as he held her close, calming her. 

             
When she calmed down a bit, Anne explained to Merle how she’d started to believe that her body had become some sort of shrine, no longer desirable.  She didn’t think any man would want her.  She wasn’t young and beautiful.  She was old and overweight.  Merle smiled down at her.  “You know you’re at least ten years younger than I am, right?”  She sniffed.  He couldn’t be going on sixty could he?  “Sixty this year. You’re only forty-eight?” Merle waited until she nodded.  “I’m twelve years older than you, Sweet.”

             
“You don’t look it, or act it.” Anne said softly, remembering last night all too vividly.  She tried to hide her face, but Merle caught her hands, holding them snuggly in his grasp.

             
“None of that now.  Nothing we did was wrong, love.  I’m sorry if I rushed you.  I didn’t mean to.  It’s been over three years for me, and I found myself a bit overcome.”  Merle thought he was beginning to understand why she was so embarrassed by his making love to her.  She seemed to think that because she was divorced she was no longer attractive.  Besides that, they weren’t married.  They’d grown up in a time where sex existed primarily in the marriage bed.  Merle looked at Anne, imagined having her as his mistress, and he knew without a doubt she’d never be happy that way.  For her to be comfortable with him he’d have to marry her, not something he really wanted to do at this junction.  Then again, he didn’t want to lose her either.  Merle pulled Anne into his arms, kissing the top of her head.  “Let’s start over, sweet.

             
Anne looked at Merle confused.  What was he talking about?  “Anne, don’t look at me so suspiciously.  I didn’t hurt you, did I?”  Anne shook her head.  Of course he hadn’t hurt her.  He’d been so gentle it drove her crazy.  “Have I given you reason to think I’m not actually interested in you as a woman?”  Again she gave a negative shake of her head, thinking about the last week.  He brought her lunch daily from different places around town and spent an hour talking with her each day. “Then it seems to me, that I’m likely falling in love with you.”  Merle didn’t smile or stutter.  He watched Anne’s face carefully; afraid he might see rejection in her eyes.

             
Anne looked at Merle in surprise and alarm.  He was falling in love with her?  She was falling for him, but she just assumed that was her way of being silly because he’d brought her out of such a deep depression.  She thought about last night, and the way he’d touched her.  Granted, she’d only ever been with Franklin, but there was a difference when you were in love and when you were just having sex.  Her marriage had gone up and down for years.  Merle had touched her and held her like he was a drowning man and she was air.  Anne shivered slightly just thinking about his touch.  She looked in his eyes, so vulnerable now, and she smiled.  She kissed him softly.  “I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

             
Merle smiled at her, pulling her even closer.  They sat on the couch, holding each other for a while.  Merle played with her hair as it fell in brown and silvery waves down her back.  “Well, little girl, should we get our day started?”  Anne laughed, walking into the kitchen to make breakfast.  She hadn’t been a little girl in a long time.  Merle watched her as she moved about his kitchen comfortably.  She’d fit in well here, he thought.  His kids would like her.  She chattered nervously as she made breakfast, aware of his constant gaze on her.  They spent the day talking, watching television, and sitting in front of the fireplace quietly.  Anne made dinner regretfully; she really would have to go home soon.  She was clearing the small table when Merle hugged her from behind and told her to take a break.  He’d clean the kitchen.  She argued with him, but he insisted she stop cleaning his kitchen.  She sat at the table and watched as he hurriedly tossed dishes into the dishwasher and wiped down the counter tops.  His body was well muscled for a man his age, and she was again surprised he was nearly sixty.  It seemed unbelievable. 

             
“I should get going soon, Merle.”  He was so intent on his work he barely heard Anne’s soft voice.  She seemed to think she needed to leave him.  He tried to convince her to stay with him, but he knew she was right.  They both had to work early in the morning and neither was truly prepared for a relationship just yet.  It was probably better they parted ways for the night, though Merle hated to think about sleeping in his bed alone after such a feast last night.  He smiled, not like he could keep up with such a rigorous schedule for long anyway.  He walked Anne to her car, throwing Sherlock’s ball for him a few times.  “Thanks a lot,” Anne said, kissing Merle quickly before climbing into her car.  She promised to call him when she got home, just to let him know she was in the house and safe, before she drove away into the darkness.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

             
Anne was surprised at the legion of phone calls she had to return over the next week.  The girls, Rose, Kelly, and Alex, seemed to need her opinion on everything.  It was nice to be needed again, and Anne had no reason to complain.  Things were looking up.  Merle took her to lunch, or brought lunch to her, every day of the week and called her each evening before bed.  He was a sweetheart, and the women in the office soon started to envy Anne her luck.  On Friday morning he brought them all donuts, to sweeten the office, he said grinning before hurrying out to work. 

             
Anne spent the morning filing and answering phones, only taking a break when she heard Merle’s voice calling her from the front desk.  He was sitting in his usual chair, having cleared a place on her desk for the food, Chinese this time.  He had paint splattered in his hair and all over his clothes.  “A minor accident,” he said smiling, pretending to brush the paint off his clothes.  “One of the new guys has a tendency to drip.”  They ate peacefully, recounting their days. 

             
“You’re coming to my place for dinner, woman.  It’s the least you can do.” Merle insisted after listening to Anne talk for a good forty minutes.  “I’ve hardly seen you all week.”  Anne shook her head.  He’d seen her plenty during the week, but she couldn’t resist his charm for long.  It wouldn’t hurt anything for her to go out to his place for dinner.  Besides, she had something she really wanted to ask him, but she hadn’t wanted to bring it up while she was at work.  It would be a relief to be alone with him again.  The girls at the office were starting to make guesses as to the seriousness of her relationship with Merle, and Anne really didn’t have any answers.  Oddly, she didn’t need or want any either.

             
Merle was cooking when she knocked on the door.  He let her in, taking her coat and hanging it up quickly.  She was like a breath of fresh air as she walked into the house.  Sherlock jumped on her excitedly, happy to see her.  “Down Sherlock,” he said sternly, afraid the pup might inadvertently knock Anne over.  She looked lovely today.  Her hair was loose; the shoulder length curls flowing down her back.  Her red high neck sweater brought out the color in her cheeks and contrasted starkly against her black slacks.  Merle looked at Anne expectantly.  “Come on, sweet, don’t I get a kiss?”  He cajoled.  She seemed uncomfortable yet in public, so he hadn’t tried to kiss her since she left on Sunday, but he was hoping she wouldn’t be so distant in private.

             
“Oh!” Anne looked at him surprised.  “Sorry.”  She kissed him dutifully, and Merle sighed in such exaggerated pleasure that Anne slapped him softly on the chest.  Merle pulled her against him on the ruse of protecting himself and kissed her firmly on the lips.  Anne melted against him and Merle squeezed her tightly before turning her towards the living room, telling her to pick a movie because dinner would take a while to cook.  She’d just put
Big Jake
in the DVD player when Merle came around the corner.  She sat next to him on the couch, content to be with him as they watched John Wayne search for his kidnapped grandson.  A buzzer went off in the kitchen and Merle left her for a few minutes.  Anne looked around the room.  Merle obviously loved windows.  The front room, with the couch and fireplace had a large window opposite the fire.  The living room, as Merle called it, had large picture windows on two sides.  A large, flat screen television was mounted on the only full wall of the room.  “Merle, how many rooms are in this house?” she called.  It had never occurred to her to ask him for a tour of his home.  Anne looked up as he walked into the living room.  “Can I have a tour?”