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Authors: Lisa Jackson

Our First Christmas (9 page)

BOOK: Our First Christmas
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“More clues from a murky past.”
He pulled up in front of a blinking motel sign. She cocked her head, suggesting that this might be a joke. “Don't let the exterior fool you. The place is clean, and the sheets are fresh.”
“A hot shower would hit the spot. My muscles ache as if I ran a hundred miles.”
“That's from the accident. You got knocked around pretty good.”
She straightened her shoulders. “I'll be ready to put this memory behind me.” Though this memory wouldn't go in the same box with the other memories. She needed a new box for memories associated with Lucas. Not only weren't they all bad, but most were real nice.
Chapter 13
Tuesday, December 23, 7
P.M.
 
When Lucas returned to the car, he had one key. “They're booked. They've just got one room, but it has two beds.”
“That's fine.”
“You sure?”
Laughter rumbled in her chest. “As you well know, I'm no blushing virgin.”
Her words triggered a memory of him pushing into her, watching her eyes close as she called out his name. He cleared his throat.
“Good.”
The flinty grate of his voice sparked something within her. “I'll likely eat and pass out within the hour.”
“Sleep's good for you.”
So is love and human contact. The words echoed as he drove to room number six.
As the headlights shone on the door, she smiled. “In ancient cultures, six is a lucky number.”
“That so?”
“Means prosperity.”
He grabbed the bags of barbecue, realizing she found the positive in most everything expect Christmas. “Here's to prosperity.”
She burrowed into the folds of her coat as he opened the door and switched on the light. The rustic double beds were made with plain light quilts that appeared to be made by hand. A television, not the flat screen kind but the old box kind, dominated the dresser hewn from poplar. Carpets were tan and the curtains a dramatic print that reminded her of another era. “Shower's in the back if you want to clean up.”
“That would be great.” She shrugged off her jacket and dropped it on the first bed. Her jeans fit her well, hugging her hips and narrow waist. She tugged off cowboy boots and headed, sock-footed, into the bathroom. “I promise not to take all the hot water.”
“No worries.” He might not like a cold shower, but it might be exactly what he'd end up with tonight.
He unpacked the food on a small round table just to the left of the door, setting out and opening the containers. By the time he'd shrugged off his own jacket and tossed it next to hers, the bathroom door opened and, from a fog of steam, she appeared.
She'd finger-combed her long hair and redressed in her jeans as well as a fresh white T-shirt embossed with the word A
RCHAEOLOGY
. Her skin was dewy and pink. “Smells delicious.”
He pulled out a chair for her and when she'd taken her seat, he sat. He watched as she smoothed out a napkin in her lap. “I've never seen so much food.”
“They always load me up. They know I can put away the grub.”
“You travel a lot for your job?”
“On the go a good bit of time. Though now that I'm in Austin, the pace might slow.” He unwrapped a tamale. “Promotion.”
She reached for a soda. “Big promotion?”
“Of sorts. My work with the cartels, well, it was noticed.”
She sipped her soda, clearly savoring the cool liquid on her throat. “I'm not sure what you did with the cartels.”
“In a nutshell, I closed down a major trafficking ring.” It had taken him five years. Lives of key informants had been lost, and he'd distanced himself from his family to protect them.
“That was why you were in Mexico looking for me.”
“There is a new drug supplier and some believe he's associated with the cartels. Word was, you could read the coded message.”
“You came all that way to find me.”
“It was important the code be broken.” His level tone gave no hint of what had been a dangerous, difficult operation.
“And these messages discuss the new drug shipment.”
“Exactly.”
“What if the drugs get through?”
“They'll bring trouble and violence.” The words carried the weight of worry and frustration.
A frown furrowed her brow. “I will remember what I figured out about the code. I will.”
His gaze held no hint of judgment. “Don't sweat it. You'll remember.”
A casual shrug didn't soften her frustration. “How do you know?”
“I've confidence in you.”
After they'd eaten, he'd watched her rise and stretch. He imagined running his hand along the curve of her back. Her skin would be soft, supple, and he supposed she tasted sweet. “I better take my shower.”
“Sure.”
He vanished into the bathroom, knowing the shower would be cold indeed.
 
While Lucas showered, Marisa cleaned up their empty paper dishes, replaced the lids, and placed the leftovers in a small fridge.
When Lucas emerged ten minutes later from the bathroom, Marisa glanced up automatically. He was dressed in his jeans, and though he'd buttoned his shirt partway, some part of his lean chest was exposed to her view.
A heat, strong and demanding, shot through her body just as it had that first night in Merida. She'd tried to shove aside the sensation and blame it on . . . well, she wasn't sure what she could blame it on. In Merida, she'd blamed it on loneliness and frustration over the dig, but now as fresh desire pumped through her veins, she searched for another logical reason why she reacted so strongly to him.
He'd protected her. Looked out for her. And desire was a natural reaction to feeling safeguarded.
“You're staring,” he said.
She glanced up into amused eyes and realized her mouth was open. She snapped it closed. “I don't think that I was staring.”
“You were staring.”
“I was just thinking . . .” What could she possibly say that would dig her out of this mess?
“Thinking what?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, and before she thought about consequences, she said, “I was thinking about Merida and I was trying to figure a reason why I was as affected by you then as I'm now.”
“How do I make you feel?” He took a couple of steps toward her and she could see the faint mist from the shower still clinging to his skin.
“Maybe because it's been a long time.”
“That's the reason?” An arched brow called out her lie.
“That's the logical explanation.”
“And you believe it?”
She shook her head and instead of answering his question, answered the one troubling her. “Lots of men have offered to be with me, but I've never felt the same about them as I do you.”
He took another step closer. “And how's that?”
“I can't quite explain it.” Her voice had grown as rough as sandpaper, and she found her thoughts skittering around her head like a mouse searching for cheese.
He captured a damp tendril of her hair and twirled it between his calloused fingers. “You have the prettiest hair. You were wearing it down the night I met you in Merida.”
“I was thinking I needed a change. I'd been in the jungle for months and I'd not had a decent shower.”
“I liked it.” He traced her jawline with his finger and again the sparks shot off in her head like it was the Fourth of July.
Impatience nipped at her heels as she longed for a deep, wet kiss. He was letting her set the pace just as he had the other night. And again, he was waiting for her to make the first move.
Emboldened by her desire, she caught his hand in hers and pulled him through the remaining inches separating them. When his chest bumped against her breasts, her nipples hardened. Too drugged with desire to care about tomorrow, she rose up on tiptoes and kissed him.
He stood still for a moment as if asking
Are you sure?
She answered him by wrapping her arms around his neck and deepening the kiss.
Without hesitation, he hauled her against him. His muscles snapped with the intensity of a man reaching for a lifeline as he kissed her and cupped her breast in his hand. Her pulse beat with the zeal of a madwoman. She arched as a moan rumbled in her chest.
“Last chance.” His voice, ragged with desire, was barely audible.
“I know what I want.”
He backed her up to the bed and lowered her to the mattress, sagging under their weight. Reaching for her shirt, he yanked it up until her breasts lay bare to him. He suckled a nipple and she arched, saying his name as if it were a curse.
His smile was wicked. “You like?”
“Yes.”
He pulled her shirt over her head and straddled her. She smoothed her hands over his muscular thighs. They'd been in this moment before. They'd been swept away with desire that had quickly cooled and they'd parted.
No . . . they'd not parted. She'd run away. She'd fled because the intensity of what she'd felt for him had been too frightening to bear. For days she'd thought about him, wondered what he was doing, if he thought about her. But each time he'd invaded her thoughts, she'd pushed him away.
And here she was again, inviting this delicious desire and feeling. As much as she wanted to promise herself she'd act differently tomorrow, she didn't. All she could promise was now.
Lucas raised his head and studied her face. “I can hear your mind working.”
She smoothed a hand over his broad back. “It does that sometimes. Time to turn it off.”
He cupped her face in his hands for a moment, staring deep into her eyes as if willing the fear away. He kissed her as if he didn't want to think about tomorrow, either.
She reached for the snap of his jeans and unfastened them. The loosened waistband allowed her to slip her hands over his bare skin, and he hissed in a breath as if she'd seared him with fire.
He rose up on his knees, staring at her as he quickly ripped off his shirt and reached for the snap on her jeans. Soon they were both naked, and he entered her. The sensations overtook them both and their bodies, damp with sweat, climaxed.
Lucas collapsed against Marisa. He rolled on his side and pulled her close, nestling her bottom against him. He held on as if somehow he'd find a way to keep her from running again in the morning.
Chapter 14
Wednesday, December 24, 8
A.M.
 
The next morning, Lucas woke and rolled on his side, expecting to feel Marisa's warm body. His eyes were barely open, and he wanted her. They'd made love twice last night, and he still craved more.
His hand slid across the sheet and hit a cold, empty patch. Immediately, his eyes opened and when he didn't see her, he bolted up. He glanced around the dark, empty room, curtains still drawn, and found no sign of her. He tossed back the covers and reached for his pants, which were puddled on the floor.
As he ran through all the possible scenarios, he glanced toward the bathroom and saw the light on. “Marisa, you okay?”
Silence lingered a beat before the door opened to a bleary-eyed Marisa, who held a stack of papers. “I didn't want to wake you.”
“You didn't.” Relief washed over him. He resisted the urge to cross and hold her close.
“I remembered the code.” She held up the papers. “I woke up a couple of hours ago, and the pieces fell into place. I found paper and pencil and had to write.”
The smile in her eyes eased his tension more. “What do you remember?”
She explained the basics of the code, which was based on the Mayan language. “There's a drug shipment coming in today.”
“What?”
She shuffled the papers and frowned as she read. “My handwriting is awful. It's a code unto itself.” She studied the page. “Today. Definitely. Twelve noon.” She read off the address. “This is where they'll be housing the shipment.”
“You're sure?”
She raised a brow. “I know languages. And I'm right.”
Lucas kissed her on the lips. When she raised her hand to his cheek, he savored her touch. He'd not lost her again.
She finally broke away. “Don't you have to call someone?”
“Right.” He reached for his cell and dialed headquarters.
The next thirty minutes was a scramble to dress, grab coffee, and get on the road back to Austin. Lucas dropped her off at her Hyde Park home an hour later. Instead of racing back to his car, he hesitated. “I don't like leaving you here.”
“I'll be fine. And it's time I went through some boxes.”
Boxes that held memories she'd been running from for years. The outside world had barreled back into their lives. Would it tear them apart? “See you soon.”
“Be careful.” She smiled and reached for the door handle.
He captured her arm. “I'll be back soon.”
“I know.”
He took her hand in his. “I was thinking we could take a vacation.”
She arched a brow. “Really?”
He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Somewhere fun. An island. Just the two of us.”
“Okay.”
“Don't go anywhere.”
She laughed before sobering. “I won't if you promise to be careful.”
“Copy that.” He kissed her again and watched her vanish into her home. When he heard her click the dead bolt in place, he drove off, his gaze in the rearview mirror as he wondered if he'd ever see her again.
“Marisa.” Her father's voice cut through the phone line. “Where are you?”
“Home. I'm home.” She sat in front of the one box she'd sworn she'd never open again. It was the box marked C
HRISTMAS
. She pulled out strands of old lights, colorful glass balls, and had just reached several handmade ornaments when the phone rang.
A sigh shuddered through the line. “I've been worried sick about you.”
She glanced at the box of Christmas ornaments. “I'm fine.”
“This is the Ranger's fault.”
“It's not.”
“Ancient languages are not cutting edge. They were the center of your mother's life, other than you. We agreed on little, but we both loved you.”
Emotion clogged her throat, and for a moment she didn't speak. She dug into the Christmas box and retrieved a handmade star ornament. Recollections flooded of the day she and her mother and father had made it together. “Remember the year you, Mom, and I decorated a cedar tree along the highway? I was about six.”
“I remember. You and I spent most of the morning making a paper chain to go on our tree. And your mother made the star.”
She held up the star, amazed he'd remembered. Light caught the bits of glitter still clinging to the cardboard. “I remember thinking that chain was a thousand feet long after we'd made all those loops, but in the end it barely wrapped twice around the cedar tree.”
“Your mom loved Christmas when you were little.”
She cut through time, trying to remember the years before the divorce. “I have few happy memories of Christmas.”
“There was a time when she loved the holiday.” A heavy silence settled. “I never meant to end the marriage on Christmas Eve. I lost my temper. I didn't think beyond my own misery to you or your mother. I've always blamed myself for ruining Christmas for you and your mom.”
She cradled the phone close, tears stinging in the back of her eyes. Her father may have been selfish, but her mother had also chosen to hang on to the anger and let bitterness rob her of happiness. That bitterness had spilled into Marisa's life and she'd allowed it to remain.
She could never gain back the years she'd lost with her mother and father, but she could find a way to embrace the future. “Thanks for saying that.”
He cleared his throat. “Come over for dinner. We'd love to have you.”
“Thank you, I'd like that. I've a few chores to do here and I'm waiting to hear back from Lucas. I broke his code.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. This is a big break for him.”
“Your mom and I always said you were the smartest of all three of us.”
Her front door bell rang. “Dad, someone is at the door. I have to go. It's probably Lucas.”
“Please be careful. Look before you open the door.” She glanced out her front window and saw Bradley standing on the front porch. She groaned. “It's Bradley.”
“Good. You're safe.”
“Safe?”
“I called him. I thought you two were long overdue for a conversation.”
Marisa shoved her fingers through her hair as she watched him standing, hands in pockets, on the front step. “What do we have to talk about?”
“Just talk to him, honey.”
She shoved out a breath. “Sure. I'll talk to him.”
“We'll see you soon?”
“Yes.” She hung up and moved to the door, snapping it open.
Bradley had the good sense to look embarrassed. “You're back?”
“I am.”
“Can we talk?”
“Sure.” She allowed Bradley past her threshold into the living room. When she closed the door, she turned and faced him. “What's this about?”
“I made a mistake. A terrible mistake. I was hoping we could talk and maybe find our way back to each other.”
For a moment she almost laughed, thinking it was April Fools' Day and not Christmas Eve. “You meant every word you said.”
“I didn't. I was selfish and hasty.”
Her father must have had some talk with him. The emotion behind her father's words had touched her heart, but Bradley's words left her cold. “Is that all?”
“Your office was trashed. You were run off the road. You shouldn't be alone.”
“I'm fine. I can take care of myself.”
He rattled loose change in his pocket. “This danger you're in has to do with that Ranger!”
“It does not.”
“How can you say that? All your work was taken. Your office was ransacked.”
“I don't believe the two are connected.”
“That's insane. Your office was broken into just after your accident while you were lying in the hospital.”
“Lucas said the place was trashed, but it reminded him of an amateur. If it had been the cartels, they'd have burned the place to the ground.”
He fisted his hands. “Why burn an entire building? They were after your work.”
“To hide evidence.”
His gaze narrowed. “What evidence?”
She studied him, noting the tension around his eyes. “Why're you upset?”
He jabbed stiff fingers through his thick hair. “Anyone would be upset. God knows who breached the history building.”
“Lucas said there were no signs of forced entry.” She shook her head as she watched him. He showed no sign of surprise. “You took my work.”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
She'd made the statement off the cuff, not sure what reaction she'd receive. But now, as she watched his face redden a shade and his lips flatten, she confirmed her hypothesis. “You've been jealous of my work for months. I tried to ignore it, but you're angry I made the find and you didn't.”
“That's not true.”
“It's true.” She advanced a step. “Did you run me off the road, as well?”
“Don't be stupid! I didn't run you off the road. And I have witnesses who saw me in town at the time of the accident.”
So he'd considered the need for witnesses. “But that didn't stop you from taking advantage of my hospital stay, did it? You broke in after my accident and hoped the Rangers would connect the break-in and car accident.”
His gaze hardened. “I should have burned your office to the ground.”
To hear the admission, despite her accusations, struck her like a slap.
“I should have burned all your papers and destroyed your work.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to teach you a lesson.”
“Lesson?”
“I'd hoped you'd see the Ranger was trouble and that you'd return to being your old self. You've been different since Mexico. And I know you two met there behind my back. One of the other professors saw you dancing with him in the café.”
“Behind your back? My old self?” Anger simmered.
“You used to be easygoing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You mean a pushover.”
“You were a nicer person before Mexico.”
“Before you dumped me.”
“You were selfish. All you cared about was work. You never looked at me.”
“I can't believe this.” She reached for the door and opened it, allowing a chill to race over her. “Get out of my house.”
“We need to talk.”
“We're finished.”
“Marisa, I did it for your own good.”
“Go away, Bradley.”
He reached out his hand as if to grab her arm, but she flinched and backed up toward the open door. The sound of footsteps on her front porch had them both turning to face a stunned Kyle. He carried a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine.
Relieved, she attempted a smile. “Kyle.”
His steady gaze settled on Bradley. “You all right, Marisa?”
“Bradley was just leaving.”
Bradley glared at the two of them, and though he wanted to say more, he brushed past them and stormed down the steps toward his car.
Kyle raised an amused eyebrow. “So what's the deal with Bradley?”
“He just admitted to trashing my office.”
Kyle stepped over the threshold and set the groceries on the lone table. “Why?”
“To teach me a lesson.” She closed the door.
“So he has all the papers?”
“I suppose. I don't care. My work is backed up, and I remembered the code.”
Kyle rubbed his chilled hands together. “How much?”
“The entire collection of messages.” She checked her watch, imagining the Rangers storming the storage shed now. “Lucas and his men are on the way.”
“You always did have an amazing memory. What was the key to the code?”
“The Mayan and Aztec languages. It's a mixture of glyphs and numbers. Simple, really.”
“Simple for you. Not for most. I doubt there's one other person on the planet who could have broken it.”
“You could have cracked it.”
“Maybe.” The phone in Kyle's bag rang.
The ringtone had a familiar melody that captured Marisa's attention. She watched as he grinned and fished the phone from his pocket. By the third ring, she recognized the tune. It was the song she'd heard while she'd been trapped in her car. A unique sound that she'd never heard before.
Marisa watched as Kyle glanced at the number, paled, and pushed the phone back into his pocket purse.
“Who was that?”
Kyle's lips flattened into a thin line. “No one.”
BOOK: Our First Christmas
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