Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [41]
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on yours when I walked out of that bathroom.”
“I was expecting Emily.”
“I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
They both laughed.
“You’re not nearly so intimidating when you laugh.”
“Me, intimidating?” Charles asked as if she were joking.
“You can be, you know.”
He seemed puzzled by that, shaking his head.
“I suspect you don’t get angry often,” she went on, “but when you do…”
“When I do,” he said, completing her thought, “people know it.”
He’d certainly made his feelings known shortly after her arrival. “I really appreciate your letting me stay,” she told him.
“Actually, after a meal like that and last night’s too, I think I’m the fortunate one.”
“I’ve enjoyed cooking the last couple of days. I don’t do much of it anymore. Usually I grab something on my way home from school.”
“Me, too,” he said. “You live alone?”
Faith nodded. “I’ve been divorced for more than five years.” She was too embarrassed to admit how short-lived her marriage had been. “What about you?”
“I’ve never been married.”
“Are you involved with anyone?” Faith asked the question before she had time to think about what it might reveal.
Charles shook his head. “No, my work’s always been my life.”
Suddenly the room seemed to grow very warm. Faith looked up and found Charles studying her as if seeing her for the first time.
Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Faith came gracefully to her feet. “I’d better do the dishes,” she said.
“Wait.” Charles stood, too. “I’ll help.”
“No, really, that isn’t necessary.” Faith didn’t understand why it was so important to put distance between them, but it was. She knew that instinctively. They’d shared a wonderful meal, found common ground, discussed history and even exchanged a few personal facts. They were attracted to each other. She felt it; he felt it, too, Faith was sure, and it unnerved her.
“Okay,” Charles said. He stood no more than a foot away from her.
The tension between them seemed to throb like a living thing. It took Faith a moment to realize that Charles was responding to her statement about not needing help with the dishes.
She started to walk away, abandoning her wine, when he caught her hand. She stood frozen, half-facing the kitchen, her fingers lightly held in his. She sensed that if she turned back, he’d probably kiss her. He’d given her the choice.
Slowly, almost against her will, Faith turned. Charles drew her into the circle of his arms and brought his mouth down on hers.
The kiss was wonderful. They strained against each other, wanting, needing to give more, receive more, feel more.
When it was over, they stared at each other as if equally perplexed.
“Wow,” Faith mumbled.
“You’re telling me!”
Charles pulled her back into his embrace and held her tightly. “I’m ready to be wowed again. How about you?”
Faith’s heart fluttered with excitement. This was the best surprise yet, she mused, as she closed her eyes and tilted her mouth toward his.
EIGHTEEN
Emily had the bacon sizzling and muffins baking by the time Ray came out of his brother’s bedroom. His hair was still wet from the shower, and he wore a fresh set of clothes. Emily assumed they’d come out of Charles’s closet, because Ray hadn’t brought a suitcase. Apparently the two brothers were close enough in size for Ray to wear his brother’s clothes.
“Good morning,” she greeted him cheerfully.
Ray muttered something indistinguishable and stumbled over to the coffeepot. He poured himself a mug. “Are you always this happy in the morning?” he asked, after his first restorative sip.
“Always,” Emily said, just as cheerfully as before.
Ray stared at her. “I’ve heard there are two kinds of people in the world. Those who wake up and say ‘Good Morning, God’ and those who say ‘Good God, Morning.’”
Emily laughed. “You don’t need to tell me which one you are.”
“Or you.” He settled on the stool by the counter, propped up his elbows and slowly sipped his coffee. When he’d finished his first cup, he was smiling again and eager for breakfast.
Emily set their plates