Silver Bells Page 12

  "I wouldn't recommend leaving the front door unlocked. Anyone could walk in," a familiar voice said from the end of the short hall.

  Jillian's head jerked up and the box angled precariously. Matt was immediately beside her, lifting the load out of her arms.

  "Hi, Jake," he said, smiling at her dumbstruck look.

  "How did you get here?" Jillian found her voice, then ran to catch up with him as he strode up the hall with her burden.

  "Where do you want this?" he asked, ignoring her question.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Carrying a box, I think. Where do you want it?" he repeated.

  "The car," she answered automatically. She opened the front door for him and led him down the stairs, pointing out icy spots as they made their way to the parking lot.

  After he stashed the box inside, Jillian slammed the trunk closed. She suddenly wished she didn't look as if she'd taken a dust shower, and she brushed a cloud of it off her jeans. She couldn't help beaming; her smile felt as bright as the sunshine. "You're still taking over, I see."

  "Yeah." He grinned, thumbing a streak of dirt from her cheek. Then he took her arm and guided her up the stairs. "From the looks of things, someone needs to."

  "Why?"

  "Because I hate to think how you're going to end up if you insist on leaving your apartment door unlocked and wandering outside in December without a coat. Your guardian angel must be slipping."

  "Next you'll be saying she sent you."

  "Nope. Totally my own idea." He shut the apartment door behind them and removed his coat, pitching it onto the rocking chair.

  "You may as well put that back on," Jillian said.

  He ignored her as he wandered from one end of the main room to the other, checking the layout of her apartment.

  "I suppose I have Karen to thank for this."

  "Jim, actually." He stopped in front of her, the left side of his mouth twitching upward. "You look happy to see me, even if you don't sound that way."

  "I am." Heaven help her, she was, and it made her feel claustrophobic. She inched away from him and the urge to touch him. Having him here was probably far more dangerous than leaving her front door unlocked twenty-four hours a day.

  Jillian lit on the first thing that came into her mind. "I thought you were staying at the cabin until after New Year's." It seemed like forever since she'd been there.

  "I planned to. It was too quiet after you left."

  Her smile grew wider and she willed it to fade—to no avail. "I thought you wanted peace and quiet so you could make a decision about selling your stores."

  "I've decided."

  "Oh?"

  "I'm selling. I've been with Jim most of the day. He has a lot of paperwork to complete before I can move ahead with the deal." He took a step that brought him closer. "That's why I'm here. I want you to help me celebrate this evening."

  Jillian frowned. "I see you took me seriously when I said I'd rather not see you again."

  "You have plans?"

  "No, but—"

  "Good."

  "But it doesn't make any difference since you're leaving," she finished.

  "You made up with Harry?"

  What did Harrison have to do with it? She wondered if Matt's accident had impaired his hearing. The wicked red scar he tried to hide by parting his hair differently certainly hadn't impaired his looks. He still made her blood rush and her knees shake.

  "Would he be upset that I'm here?" Matt clarified.

  She was tempted to lie, but couldn't. "I haven't even caught a glimpse of Harrison." Her chin tilted up determinedly. "I hadn't planned to brave the mobs tonight, though. I want to spend a quiet evening at home."

  "Sounds good to me. I'll bring the—"

  "Alone." She picked up his coat and handed it to him, careful not to touch him.

  "Why?" Matt put on his coat.

  She stuttered and stammered, hunting for a reason, then looked at him, dead-on. "You can't ask why."

  Matt shrugged again, seemingly at a loss for words, then turned and walked toward the door. "See you, Jillian."

  As the door closed behind him, the apartment closed in around her. Jillian took a deep breath and decided she'd better call and accept Karen's "wasted reservations" after all—with or without the "date." It was either that or spend New Year's Eve wishing she'd taken Matt up on his invitation.

  "Not a good way to start the new year," she mumbled, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror hanging over the small desk. A dirty-faced urchin stared back at her. The navy kerchief hadn't managed to control her hair, and pale blond wisps drifted every which way. Dusty smudges decorated her face, accenting her rosy-tinged skin. Her eyes looked too wide, too bright.

  The flush she attributed to overexertion, but the dazed look in her eyes could only be blamed on Matt.

  The fact that he'd bothered to find her meant nothing, she assured her reflection. They'd shared a very pleasant Christmas, despite all the problems. And adversity usually caused people to feel close. Why wouldn't he want to keep in touch?

  The word touch made her shiver and she ran through the whole litany of reasons for not seeing him again as she hurried to the kitchen to call Karen.

  Her line was busy.

  "I'll take my bath," she decided aloud, "then try her again."

  She was sitting in hot water with bubbles almost to her chin when she heard the front door open.

  Dammit! Hadn't she locked the door after Matt left? She quickly glanced around the small room, aware that she didn't even have a robe with her, much less a rolling pin or a lead pipe.

  Her best bet seemed to be to sit tight and wait out the intruder. Maybe it was the expected visit from Karen. She pulled at a towel and it slithered off the rod, and she stood up in the water as she wrapped it around herself and quietly reached to turn the lock on the bathroom door.

  "Jillian?"

  Matt's voice, mere inches away on the other side of the door, caught her off guard and she slipped. Her hands flailed, her body went flying.

  Water splashed everywhere, along with most of the scented bubbles, and she landed with a soft thud in the bottom of the tub.

  "Are you all right?" The handle turned and Matt's head peered around the edge of the door. His eyes narrowed with concern.

  "No, Matt, I'm not all right," she answered when she'd finally caught her breath. "Get out. You almost killed me." He had the decency to look guilty as his head disappeared and he yanked the door shut. "What are you doing here again?"

  "I brought wine and steaks for our celebration."

  "Oh, Matt," she wailed, irritated. Exasperated. "Can't you take a hint? I told you I was going to spend the evening by myself."

  "Come out and let's talk about it."

  Jillian rose, gingerly checking her body for broken bones, and stepped out of the tub. Her towel, which had taken the dive with her, was drenched and dripping on the floor. "Hand me my robe. It's on the hook on the back of my bedroom door," she ordered, knowing that Matt would stand outside the bathroom until she gave in. "And a dry towel while you're at it. They're in the closet next to the bedroom."

  When she heard him return, she stuck out her bare arm to foil any plan he might have about bringing the requested items in. She emerged after only a few minutes and faced him, aware that her dripping hair and faded chenille robe lent her the appearance of a scruffy drowned rat. Too bad; she hadn't invited him here to see.

  "Most people wait to be invited before they come barging into someone's home." She crossed her arms defensively.

  "Would you have invited me in?"

  She wished he'd quit with the ear-to-ear grin. She couldn't think.

  "I thought not. I was glad that you didn't lock the door this time either, but I hope you don't make a practice of it. Now. How are we going to celebrate?"

  "I told you. I'm going to stay home tonight. Alone," she added as he started to agree. "Considering the past year, I feel I need some time by myself
this New Year's Eve. You understand?"

  He nodded. "I just don't happen to think you're right." His voice lowered. "We can fix steaks here—" he motioned to a brown paper sack he'd set next to the bathroom door "—or we can go out with Karen and Jim. She assures me they have extra reservations. Which will it be?"

  She must have looked as surprised as she felt, because he laughed. He had a wonderful laugh. "See? I've given you a choice." Matt stepped nearer, until only a wisp of air separated them. "You wouldn't want me to celebrate alone, would you?" He smiled, gently stroking the side of her neck, then following the line of her collarbone with his thumb.

  She tried to move away, but her heel met the wall and she was trapped. "There isn't any point in going on with this, Matt. You—we—I don't want to—"

  "I know," he hushed her. "But I needed to see you again. Away from the cabin. That wasn't real."

  Too weak to argue, Jillian sighed and nodded, then said breathlessly, "But let's go out with Jim and Karen. I don't think hanging around here would be much of a celebration." She shrugged his hands away and willed herself to concentrate on getting ready. "I guess I'd better finish my bath," she hinted.

  He glanced at his watch. "The reservations are for eight. I'll pick you up in a hour."

  "We surely don't need to leave that early."

  "How dress-up is this, anyway?"

  "It's probably one of the dressier New Year's Eve parties in town."

  Matt's eyes rested on the sagging V of her robe and she tugged the flaps closed. She realized she'd made matters worse when she heard his sharp intake of breath. The worn chenille clung to her damp body and prominently displayed her breasts.

  Matt exhaled long and audibly, and looked down at her bare feet. "We need to leave soon because I'll have to go by the mall and pick up something to wear. While we're there I should stop in at the store and talk to Molly."

  "If it's going to be a—"

  "It's not a problem if I can use your phone," he replied, lacing his thumbs into his belt loops. "What are you wearing? We could buy you something new while we're at it."

  "I'll wear my black taffeta," she decided quickly.

  "If you insist. An hour then?"

  She nodded silently and was in the bathroom running the water before she realized she'd acquiesced to everything he'd suggested except new clothes. She hadn't even waited until he was out of the apartment to escape back into the bathroom. As far as she knew, he was still in the kitchen using the phone. She double-checked the lock on the door.

  She shouldn't have agreed to go out with him! As long as he didn't intrude on her day-to-day world she should eventually be able to pigeonhole him with other pleasant memories. He'd said the time at the cabin was unreal for him, too.

  She climbed out of the tepid water and finished the rest of her preparations absentmindedly.

  Maybe she should have chosen to stay here. Karen was going to analyze everything either of them said or did, and Jillian would hear about it, in detail, for the next ten years.

  And it would take Karen three seconds or less to know Jillian was in love with Matt.

  Suddenly, Jillian's hand shook so much that she had to put down her mascara.

  She was in love with him.

  Her fist pressed heavily against her chest, trying to quell the relieved yet terrified throbbing. She was relieved that she'd finally admitted the truth to herself, but the admission wasn't worth a thing. Investing every last cent she owned in swampland in Florida would have made more sense. And probably have given her a better return on her investment.

  But what if— She cautioned herself not to get her hopes up.

  She did anyway. He might love her. She knew he cared. He'd never said he didn't want to fall in love-just that he wouldn't get married.

  She shook her head, then stood back and admired herself in the mirror.

  Picking up the lovely necklace Matt had given her, she fastened the slender chain about her neck. It shimmered against her bare skin and, combined with her bemused glow, provided a finishing touch. The bells tinkled softly.

  Ring out the old year, ring in the new. Suddenly the new year brimmed with possibilities. She closed her eyes and prayed for her wildest dreams.

  The wide hem of Jillian's short black dress rustled against the leg of Matt's jeans as he pulled her gently through the doors leading into the quiet mall. They went into one store after another. In one, he picked up an expensive electric razor and a small bottle of aftershave. In the next he bought dress shoes. He couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her as he led her toward the one men's store that carried formal wear.

  "It'll be a little while, Mr. Carson," the clerk said, looking at her watch.

  "By seven?"

  She looked skeptical. "Mrs. Maxwell is coming in to do the alterations, but she isn't here yet."

  "I'm sure she'll make it. Do you have big plans for the night?"

  "My roommate and I are having a hell of a party." The young woman grinned. "We'll probably start the new year looking for a new apartment."

  "Sounds like fun."

  Jillian grudgingly admired Matt's manner. The girl was smiling in spite of the fact that she was going to be late to her own party. Of course, it didn't hurt that he handed her a fifty-dollar bill for her "inconvenience," then added a matching one for the absent Mrs. Maxwell.

  He piled the other things he would need beside the cash register and signed his name to the account slip. Then with a large sack slung over his shoulder, he cupped Jillian's elbow in his other hand and guided her out of the store.

  "I want to buy you something new." Matt turned to her. His gaze slid the length of her body, easing past the bolero-style lamb's wool jacket to the draped fabric snugly outlining her figure. He skimmed the short full skirt and then took his time admiring her shapely legs. Her dainty high-heels brought them almost eye to eye, and that was where his look rested when the inspection was over. "But I can't see any room for improvement."

  She glowed as he led her toward Carson's.

  "Matt?" An immaculately groomed, white-haired saleswoman greeted him. "I didn't expect you until the end of next week."

  "Hi, Molly." He grinned, tugging Jillian out in front of him. "Molly manages this store for me," he explained as he introduced them.

  Molly smiled warmly. "I need to pass on a few messages, Matt, then as things are pretty slow, I thought I'd close a little early. I'm watching my granddaughters this evening."

  "You go ahead," he said. "Jillian and I will close while we're waiting for my tux."

  He and Molly began discussing business, and Jillian studied the store. The plush mauve carpeting blended beautifully with gray, pink and mauve painted walls. Chrome and glass counters held breathtaking jewelry. One corner of the large room was secluded by a padded room divider upholstered in silver brocade.

  No one would have guessed in a million years that the man standing over there in the lumberjack costume was the one behind this soft, romantic atmosphere.

  She turned to the glass case in the middle of the store, absently staring at the engagement rings and wedding sets.

  What ordinary man wouldn't trade his ordinary job, wife and 2.2 children for Matt's life-style? Matt went where he wanted, spent what he wanted. He owned seven successful stores, which, if Molly was anything to go by, were managed by warm, efficient people. He traveled.

  She suddenly didn't want to see this part of Matt's life. It was too perfect. Of course he'd never be interested in any of the make-believe games she'd played earlier tonight.

  "I want to show you something," Matt said quietly, resting his hand on her shoulder. He steered her clear of the rings and into the business end of the store. "Did you find it, Molly?" he asked as they entered the office.

  The elegant older woman handed him a small wooden box. "I'll be off now."

  Matt locked the back door behind her, then sat Jillian in a chair by a large industrial-looking desk.

  He propped himself on one corne
r, half-sitting as he opened the box and held it out to her. "Thought you might like to see some of John's handiwork," he said, proud as a boy just learning to whistle.

  The perfectly matched pair of butterflies rested against the yellowed satin lining of the box. Their exquisite silver filigreed wings caught the light and seemed to quiver in readiness to fly. The tiny bodies were inlaid with a sliver of dark polished stone. She thought it might be onyx. "They're beautiful, Matt," she whispered. "He made these by hand?" She glanced up. From Matt's pleased expression, she guessed she'd shown she was appropriately impressed.

  She looked back down at the box. "And this is one of the boxes you made?" she wondered aloud, turning it over.

  "Yeah," he replied, almost shyly.

  She ran her fingers across the smooth top, picturing boyish hands, a bent head, intense concentration. She ached for the child who had so hungrily accepted tender nurturing from an outwardly rough but inwardly gentle old man.

  Swiftly blinking away a spot of moisture from the corner of her eye, she handed back the box. He pocketed it. "I would love to have met John."

  "You'd have liked him," Matt assured her in a rough voice. "I suppose I should go man the front. It's still a quarter of an hour till closing time. I probably should keep the store open since we have to wait anyway. You can stay here if you like."

  "I may as well join you."

  "No one will be in in the short time we have left," he promised, reentering the showroom.

  A young couple rushed in, as if to prove him wrong, and hurried over to the rings in the center of the store. "Can I help you? I do work here," Matt assured the startled pair.

  The man hesitated. "I hope we aren't too late to look at your engagement rings?" The woman smiled and tightened her grip on his hand. "Janet has just agreed to marry me and I want to make it official before she changes her mind."

  That's how it's supposed to be, thought Jillian, as Matt excused himself with a discreet nod and led the couple to the partition at the back. There had been none of the excitement, none of the joy so blatantly displayed on this couple's faces in her arrangement with Harrison.