Lone Star Christmas

And then, before he was tempted to forgo all reason and kiss her again, he turned and walked away.

Chapter Four (#ulink_457b2044-85d6-58f4-9a25-d2179b43bdbd)

Nash was surprised to see only Callie’s SUV parked in front of her ranch house when he arrived Friday evening. And even more surprised to see the way she was outfitted when she opened the door to him.

“Ah,” he couldn’t resist teasing, “you dressed up just for me.”

Callie flushed. Clearly she had meant her attire to send a message that this evening meant nothing to her. And he had to admit, on that score, she had done a fine job.

She was definitely dressed to un-impress—in old jeans and a loose-fitting blue chambray shirt, washed so many times it was soft and thin as silk, socks and moccasins, all her makeup scrubbed off.

Looking around the foyer, he realized that everyone else appeared to be gone. She had massive to-do lists spread out on the coffee table, as well as photos of her late husband and wedding pictures prominently displayed on the mantel.

Which was even more amusing, Nash noted, since none of that had been there earlier in the day.

He shrugged out of his shearling jacket and hung it on the coatrack, then followed her into the kitchen. The scent of sage dressing, turkey and cranberries wafted through the air.

“Brian asleep?”

Callie nodded, clearly disappointed about that, too. “I had hoped he would be up, but he is so overtired, it’s probably for the best.”

“And your in-laws?”

Another tight officious smile. “They’re off to spend the weekend at the holiday craft show in San Antonio.” She gestured for him to have a seat at a table set for two.

She went to the oven and pulled out casserole dishes. Turkey smothered in gravy. Potatoes and stuffing. Some sort of vegetable medley that hadn’t been on the table the evening before. Warm cranberry and apple compote. A loaf of what appeared to be homemade bread. And butter.

When she had everything at the table, she sat down, too. “Rock and Doris have a wholesale Texana souvenir business. Basically they sell or make anything and everything that has to do with the history and culture of Texas. They trade with businesses all over the state, so even though they are based in my hometown, they are on the road a lot.”

Nash heaped food on his plate, then dug in. “I gather they supported your decision to start your own business and move away from Laramie?”

“They did.”

Her food was every bit as good the second time around. “Are your parents as understanding?”

“No,” Callie admitted. “They wanted me to stay closer to home. But I still see them a fair amount, since they’re both doctors, and attend a lot of medical education seminars in San Antonio.”

“How do they feel about the prospect of you getting married again?”

She kept her eyes on his a disconcertingly long time, then lifted her chin. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

“And yet your in-laws want you to take another leap of faith, as soon as possible it would seem.”

“What can I say?” Her silver Christmas star earrings jangled as she tilted her head slightly to one side. “They’re hopelessly romantic. My late husband was the same.”

“And you...?”

“Used to be a romantic fool,” she said. The enticing curves of her breasts pressed against her blouse as she inhaled sharply. “No more.”

Wishing he could give in to his desire, haul her onto his lap and lock lips with her again, Nash recalled his promise not to kiss her again tonight. “So you’re not interested in getting married again?”

The mutinous light was back in her blue eyes. “Nope. Not at all. Been there, done that. See no reason to ever do it again. Or even, really, date.”

Message sent, Nash thought, but not necessarily received.

He grinned, the man in him rising to the womanly challenge in her. He leaned back in his chair, his shoulders flexing against the rungs. “You’re going to live your whole life without sex?”

“I didn’t say that, exactly.”

Now they were getting somewhere! “Then...?”

Her flush deepened, as if she knew how ludicrous she sounded. “Why are you asking me this?”

Lazily, he looked her up and down, amazed at how gorgeous she was, under any circumstances. Aware she was waiting for an answer, he said, “I’m curious.”

She studied him coolly in return. “Okay, if you must know,” she said, clearly not understanding why this was so, “I could see myself having an affair—at least in theory—if I could keep it strictly as a bed-buddy, casual-sex type of thing.”

This was news. “Bed-buddy,” he repeated in shock.

She leveled another long, droll look. “You know. Someone you have sex with when the mood strikes, but don’t have any kind of romantic attachment to.”

Her matter-of-fact assertion sounded even more ludicrous the second time around.

“Or you could ‘hire’ a companion,” he quipped. “Someone like...say, me...who would ‘work for food’ under those circumstances.”

She shook her head at the merriment twinkling in his eyes. Knowing even without him saying so that he was already half-serious. “You’re so funny.”

He chuckled. “So are you.”

Again it took everything he had to resist touching her.

They locked eyes, drawing out the sensually charged moment.

“You don’t believe I could have a casual affair, do you?” Callie challenged. He stood and carried his dishes to the sink. “Not for one second. No.”

She rose, too, her motions as graceful as they were deliberate. “Why not?”

He watched her slide the plates into the dishwasher, then ease the door back into place with more than necessary gusto. “Because you might say you’ve let go of your romantic ideals, but those to-do lists you had out for me to see, of everything you want to do to celebrate Christmas, say otherwise.”

Callie swung toward him, her body nudging his in the process. “Those lists have nothing to do with how I feel. And everything to do with how I want my son to feel.”

He studied the conflicted expression on her face. “I don’t understand.”

“The truth is...I haven’t felt like celebrating Christmas since my husband died. But,” she added the all important caveat, “I have a child who needs to experience all the wonder and hope and joy that the holiday can bring, so I go through the motions. For him.”

“You don’t think he knows that’s what you’re doing?”

Callie released an exasperated breath. “He’s two and a half.”