A Lot Like Christmas Read online

  “Cut it out.” She gave his arm a playful slap.

  They reached the exit and he held the door. Before she stepped out, she turned to look at the place. When she turned back, she was smiling quietly.

  It hit Chase with a jolt. His mother used to do that—look over the mall and smile with pride. He felt a sharp pain, remembering how impatient he would get. Come on, Mom, let’s go.

  “What’s wrong?” Sylvie asked him.

  “Nothing. Just hungry, I guess.” He started to move forward, but Sylvie blocked his path.

  “It’s more than that. What?”

  Looking into her concerned face, he realized he wanted to tell her. He rarely confided in anyone, but this was Sylvie.

  “The way you looked around reminded me of my mom. Like she wanted to be sure the mall looked okay for company to arrive.” He shrugged, not liking the emotions coursing through him.

  “I hope I do my job the way she would want it done.”

  “I’m sure you do,” he said, his throat tight.

  “Is it hard to be here…because of her?”

  He nodded.

  “I miss her, too,” she said softly.

  For a moment, in the mall parking lot, Sylvie seemed to share his pain. He felt an abrupt connection to her and the release of a knot in his gut he’d lived with since his mother’s death.

  “Whenever I came to your house, she welcomed me with arms open wide, like family.”

  “That’s how she felt,” he said, forcing himself to lighten his words. “Hell, Fletcher and I weren’t that huggable.” He paused. “You didn’t have to quit coming. We’d have been happy to have your mother join us.”

  “Yes, I did. It was too easy for me to slip into thinking I was one of you, when I wasn’t. Not really.” She shook her head, stubborn and independent and alone.

  Like him. He’d always felt apart, even with his mother. Of course it was that emotional distance that allowed him to survive her death, thankfully numb, made him able to hold up his father and brother, handle the funeral arrangements, manage the mall as best he could. Cold to his bones, he’d moved through the fog somehow.

  “We missed you on holidays, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “I missed you, too,” she said softly.

  The family or him? Not that it mattered. “Nadia’s going to give us hell for sure.” He shook off the old sorrow and led the way to the BMW. “Top on or off?” he asked, nodding at the cloth roof.

  “Off is nice.”

  “Yes, it is,” he said, thinking of Sylvie’s top, not the car’s. He smiled.

  “Human nature again?”

  “Oh, yeah. Human nature for sure.”

  HUMAN NATURE? That’s what he called that raw look he’d just given her? It was a jolt after their talk, but Sylvie felt it, too—like someone had set off sparklers in her bloodstream. Tender moment over, sex drive firing.

  Chase held the door for her, sending his gaze on a slow trip down her body. “My jacket’s in back if you’re cool.”

  “Not at all.” The sparklers had set off a bonfire in her chest. She slid into the seat and Chase joined her.

  She picked up his musky cologne, the clean cotton scent of his sky-blue shirt, the laugh lines around his mouth, the flash of gold in his dark eyes. They were unbearably close, the air between them thick with unspoken need, as if something important had happened without either one noticing.

  Like a sudden whisper in her ear, an abrupt kiss, a hug from behind.

  Around them, sunset’s streamers of gold, pink and purple stretched across the sky. Sylvie gripped the leather seat with both hands to ground herself. Butt in seat, feet on floorboards. She wasn’t floating away. “Nice car,” she said to drag her thoughts back to earth.

  “Fletcher loaned it to me.” Chase’s voice started out husky and he seemed to be pulling himself together, too.

  “Fletcher owns a convertible?”

  “Yeah. Shocked me, too. I thought it might be a sign he’d started to live a little.”

  “Like dating me? Did you get that fixed, by the way?”

  “Yep.”

  She caught a cringe. “How?”

  “Okay, here’s the deal. I kind of told him you were seeing someone.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I know, so high school, but I was running out of time and that seemed simplest.”

  “For you maybe. What if he asks me about my new boyfriend? What did you tell him?”

  “He won’t ask. But I gave no details. It’s entirely up to you. He can be tall, dark and handsome or short, blond and brilliant. I didn’t mention a name. He could be Travis… Monroe…Rusty…Thor.”

  “Thor?” Sylvie had to smile. “Let’s go with Thor. He sounds tall, blond and handsome.”

  Chase glanced at her, clearly intrigued. “Thor, huh? So what’s he like? The strong, silent type? Maybe kinky? I mean, with that horned hat and a sledgehammer, hmm-boy.”

  She laughed.

  “Nah, you’re not into kinky so much, I bet.”

  “You never know.”

  “I’d say Thor is steady and successful, with a solid income. Serious, totally committed to a stable marriage.”

  “You’re sneering, I can tell.”

  “Maybe. What about passion? Don’t you want a guy to sweep you off your feet, adore you, promise you all the happiness you can hold?”

  Of course she did. She wanted a man who would treat her like the sun rose and set in her eyes, a man who’d bring her flowers for no reason, share every pain and joy, and be her rock in every crisis.

  But that sounded like her mother, who went through heartbreaks like tissues. Sylvie would not permit wild impulses to rule her. Passion burned out and you were left an empty shell. Sylvie had hated seeing her mother that way. She would never fall into her mother’s trap of believing the dreamy fantasy of true love.

  “That’s all very romantic, Chase, but marriage has to be based on shared values and goals. Like anything good, you have to work at it.” You earned love, day by day, proved yourself through actions, not sweeping emotion and overstated sentiment.

  “Sounds like Thor could be best buds with Fletcher. They could go out for a beer and discuss pension plans together.”

  “Or convertibles. Don’t underestimate either of them.”

  Sylvie glanced at Chase as he drove, one hand on the wheel, fingers strong and easy on the leather. He looked so sexy in that shirt, bright against his tan, his fashionably shaggy hair brushing the collar, his thin gold watch, subtly expensive, catching the dusk light.

  Even his watch turned her on. God. As the moments passed, desire was dripping into her system like a slowly leaking faucet, the pressure building until she could see herself jumping into Chase’s lap, kissing him wildly, forcing them off the road into a ditch where they could consume each other.

  Yeah, right.

  A perfect illustration of why she had to control her impulses. Chase was sexy and, no doubt, a fabulous lover. But was that all she wanted? Hell, no. She did want a Thor, a man who would stick around, content to sit home on a Saturday night to watch the baby coo and kick its legs.

  Still, passion had its rewards. She took one last hungry look at Chase.

  “What?” He’d caught her staring.

  “Human nature,” she said on a sigh.

  “Ah.” He nodded in a way that said he wouldn’t mind driving into a ditch for sex with her, either. At least he wasn’t calling her kid.

  At the moment.

  “What happened with you and Fletcher back then?” he asked her.

  “Sheesh. It was so…awkward. A couple days after my birthday party, I came by to give Starr a thank-you gift and Fletcher was there. He offered me a drink and put on a CD I’d mentioned when we’d talked at my dinner.”

  “Yeah. I was with him when he bought the album. That’s when he let it slip he liked you.”

  “You didn’t say anything to him about…you and me…?” She felt a twinge of
embarrassment, remembering the even more awkward moment when Chase had tugged up her dress and patted her.

  “Of course not. That was…between us.” He cleared his throat. It would be satisfying to think Chase had backed off because his brother was interested in her, but she knew better. He’d seen her as too sweet and too young, neither of which had been true. She’d been twenty-one and had known exactly what she was doing, peach margaritas or no peach margaritas.

  She wished she could tell him that. Maybe she would when the time was right. “So, anyway, Fletcher put on the music and we were talking about it and he leaned toward me. I thought he wanted the CD case, so I reached for it. But it turned out he was going for a kiss and when I moved his mouth landed on my nose.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I know. Awful. We laughed and I said it was nice talking to him and got out of there as fast as I could. I mean, Fletcher was a nice guy, but I didn’t feel that way about him.”

  “So that was it?”

  “Yeah. The next time I was at your house, he acted normal, like it never happened. Until you dared him to ask me out yesterday, you jerk.”

  Chase winced. “My bad.”

  A block later, they turned into the McCanns’ exclusive community and soon Chase had pulled into the curved driveway and parked. “Showtime,” he murmured, taking her all in again, making her insides shimmy like tires on ice. “I can’t wait to see Fletcher’s face when you tell him about the elf suit.”

  “I just hope I don’t have to tell him about Thor.”

  “I could run in and web search Norse gods, Photoshop out the helmet and print you a wallet snap real quick.”

  “You’re shameless.”

  “You’ve known that about me for years,” he said, low and sexy.

  And she wanted him all the same. Now, possibly more than ever. Sylvie felt herself leaning closer. He moved toward her. What were they doing?

  “You sit in car all night?” Nadia called from the door. “Come in! Time for party.”

  Sylvie took a shaky breath, grabbed the bread sack and jumped out of the car. Chase led her forward, a gentle hand on her lower back. Her knees were noodling like crazy.

  Human nature again, dammit.

  At the door, Nadia pulled Sylvie into a hug, managing to squash the bread between them. “So nice for you to be at special dinner for our boy who never is home.” She tugged Chase’s sleeve with affection, smiling up at him.

  “Bread for you.” Sylvie tried to fluff up the smashed sack before she handed it over. “Sunni says it’s your favorite.”

  Nadia sniffed the contents of the sack. “For French toast, yes. You are too kind to me.”

  Chase held the door and Sylvie followed Nadia into the familiar beauty of the McCann home, the front room’s high ceilings, filled with Starr’s tasteful furniture in creams and chocolates—warm and understatedly extravagant.

  “Sylvie.” Fletcher spoke from the bar at the back of the room.

  “Fletcher.” When she reached him, he leaned in for a friendly upper-body hug, nothing lingering. “If I recall, you liked peach margaritas?” He motioned to a frosty pitcher of pink liquid. Yikes, he’d remembered that from her birthday party.

  “Sylvie’s probably outgrown blender drinks, Fletch,” Chase said, shooting her a look, clearly nervous about this stroll down memory lane. “We could crack that Malbec I brought.”

  “Actually, I’d love a margarita,” she said, not wanting to hurt Fletcher’s feelings. “Thank you, Fletcher.”

  Fletcher poured three salt-rimmed drinks and handed them out. “Salud,” he said, lifting his glass. Sylvie and Chase echoed the toast and they all sipped.

  Eesh. Sylvie grimaced. The drink was a drop of tequila in a sea of heavy syrup. How had she ever enjoyed this?

  Chase made a face that only Sylvie could see, then reached into a silver bowl brimming with cashews. Nadia returned and slapped his hand away. “Not to spoil supper.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, dropping the nuts. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my favorite dinner.”

  “The pierogies…” Nadia sighed sadly. “Not best work of mine. Not fluffy. Not tender.”

  “They’re always perfect, Nadia, and you know it.”

  “Come…taste.” She gestured for him to accompany her, beaming at his praise.

  Chase shot Sylvie a look. You okay without me?

  She smiled. She’d be fine. She had Thor for a shield.

  “Whatever you do, don’t ask Fletcher about the Copper Creek Business Park,” he said. “He’ll drown you in builder minutiae.”

  “We can manage a conversation without your advice,” Fletcher said drily.

  “See why I was glad when he left home?” Fletcher said once Chase had gone. “So. Here we are. On our own.” He cleared his throat and fidgeted, clearly nervous, despite his claim of conversational finesse.

  “Thanks for inviting me to dinner, Fletcher.”

  “It’s like old times, having you over.” He looked at her affectionately.

  “It’s been a while, for sure.” They sipped their drinks at the same time.

  “God, that’s sweet,” Fletcher said, making a face. “We should have gone for the wine. Don’t tell Chase he was right. I’ll never live it down.”

  “It was thoughtful of you to make them in my honor.”

  “I wanted to do something I knew you liked. You look…very…well.” His gaze softened. Uh-oh. Please don’t ask me out.

  “I am. You look well, too. Business is good?”

  “We’re managing.” His face tightened slightly. “The market’s difficult and construction has us over a barrel these days—” He stopped and smiled. “No builder minutiae. Sorry.”

  “Forget what Chase said. You love your work and I love mine. Of course we want to talk about it. Tell me about your business park.”

  “There’s not much to tell. Things okay at the mall?”

  “Once we got over that confusion about me moving to Seattle, yes,” she said, thinking she could impress Fletcher with her professionalism. “Chase and I are sharing mall management. Did he mention that?”

  “Not yet, no.”

  “That’s working out nicely, I think, especially because—and you probably don’t know this yet, either—we were able to hire Mary Beth on a part-time basis to get us through the holiday crunch. She brought her mother here to Arizona.”

  “You hired Mary Beth?” Fletcher set down his drink.

  “We’re paying her out of Chase’s salary, so there’s no hit to the budget. I’m very cautious about spending, as I’m sure Mary Beth has told you.”

  “Certainly. She speaks highly of you. As well she should.” He looked her over again. God, was he going to say something mushy?

  “Starlight Desert is such a great place to work. I hate to leave at night and can’t wait to get back in the morning.” Meaning, I don’t have a moment to date.

  “But that’s not good, Sylvie. You’re letting work consume you. I’m the same way. We both need to change our ways.”

  “Please, no life changes until I get the mall through holiday shopping.” She snorted nervously.

  “Chase and I disagree a lot, but he was right when he got on my case about the rut I’m in. With work. With family. In my private life.” Uh-oh. Not the find-a-girl-and-settle-down speech.

  “I’m sure you know what you’re doing, Fletcher.”

  “You would say that. You’re in a rut, too. At the mall.” He smiled sadly. “All I know is it’s easy to get hung up on things that will never happen.” Was he thinking about that awkward missed kiss? “So it’s time we both moved on, don’t you agree?”

  “Um, do I want to move on?” Surely he didn’t mean she should leave the mall. “I guess that depends. I’m ready to make progress, yes. I can say that.”

  “Good.” He sound relieved, but she wasn’t sure why. “We have to keep our eyes open for new opportunities, new challenges, you know?”

  “Right,” she said faint
ly. Was he talking about work or love or what?

  “So, here’s to forward motion,” he said, lifting his glass.

  “To that.” Sylvie sipped more tequila-splashed peach syrup, wondering what they’d really been talking about.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “WELL, LOOK WHO’S HERE.” Marshall nodded at her. “Glad to have you over after so much time.”

  “Thank you for having me, Marshall,” she said.

  “I’m afraid you’ll find our supper table dimmer these days.” He ducked his head, frowning as if to fight emotion. He meant without Starr. A look flashed between Fletcher and Chase.

  Sylvie jumped in. “It’s nice to be back. I surely missed your food the first Thanksgiving I had with Desiree. It was a disaster.”

  “What happened?” Chase asked, sounding relieved she’d lightened the moment.

  “Desiree’s stove must have blown a circuit, I guess, because the turkey came out almost raw. We ended up at a fast-food place.”

  “A Big Mac with cranberry sauce?” Chase asked.

  “And a pumpkin shake,” she said. “We had a laugh at least.” The fiasco broke the ice between them, too, so it had all been for the good.

  Chase laughed warmly, then caught her eye, thanking her for the help. It was strange, but standing here with him and his family, she almost felt as if they were a couple, looking out for each other, navigating the shoals of family interactions. Her with Fletcher. Both boys with Marshall.

  “How is your mother these days?” Marshall asked. Sylvie had heard him criticize Desiree to Starr years ago. He hadn’t understood that Desiree had done the best she could.

  “She’s well,” she said brightly. “She helps manage the mobile home park she lives in and she’s got a kiosk at the mall where she sells her crafts.”

  “What does she offer?”

  “Right now it’s ceramic birdbaths and beaded pet leashes. Oh, and personalized anklets. Those are big sellers with the moms-with-strollers set.” Except her mother was erratic about her hours and was currently behind on her rent.

  “Pour me some of that pink stuff, son,” Marshall said, nodding at the sweating pitcher.