Make-Believe Mistletoe

Chapter Eleven

It was funny the way thoughts of Lucy popped into Banner's mind at random moments that seemed to have no connection to her. Even five days after she had left, on December thirtieth, he still found himself thinking of her frequently, hoping she had made the remainder of the trip safely, wondering if she was enjoying her visit with her family.

Wondering if she thought of him even half as often as he thought of her.

Probably not, he decided as he ran a length of white pine through his planer. After all, she had plenty of other people now to distract her and divert her. If she had spoken of him at all, it had probably been to describe him as an oddball who lived alone with a scraggly dog and had been grudgingly gracious enough to allow a few stranded travelers to stay with him for a couple of days, though he had done little to entertain them while they were there.

Maybe he could have been a little friendlier. A little more social. Or maybe…

But no. He'd been himself, pretty much. And while Lucy might have found him a novelty while she was here, he wouldn't be surprised if the novelty had already worn off.

The planer whined shrilly as he fed another board into it, though the high-decibel sound was muted by the hearing protectors he wore along with safety glasses. Banner protected himself as assiduously in the workshop as he did in all the other areas of his life.

A tap on his shoulder made him jump and nearly drop the board he'd just planed smooth. Turning off the machine, he spun with a glare. “Damn it, Lucy, don't sneak up on me in the workshop. I could have taken a hand off or something.”

She somehow managed to smile and look penitent at the same time. “Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

“The machinery I work with is dangerous. You could get hurt yourself if you aren't careful. From now on, when you come out here, make sure I see you come in so I can turn off anything…”

He fell silent as it occurred to him what he was saying. From now on? What made him think Lucy would be coming back into his workshop on a regular basis?

For that matter, what was she doing here now?

“Uh. Hi,” he said, pulling the hearing protectors off his head and tossing them aside.

Her musical laughter was a much more pleasant sound than the machine he had just silenced. “Hi, yourself. And I promise I'll be more careful from now on.”

Making it sound as if she planned to visit his workshop regularly. He cleared his throat. “I wasn't expecting to see you.”

“You said I should drop by again-is this a bad time?”

He couldn't imagine a bad time to see Lucy-but he would keep that thought to himself. “Let's go inside,” he suggested. “I'll make you some tea.”

“I'll take you up on that.” She turned to precede him out of the workshop.

She looked great, he couldn't help noticing as he followed her across the backyard to his house. She wore her black parka with the emerald knit cap and an emerald scarf. Jeans and sneakers completed what he could see of her outfit. Not exactly fancy dress, but he liked the way it looked on her. He suspected she would carry off sequins and diamonds with the same sort of carefree panache.

The thought of her dressed in her doctoral robe and sash made him scowl. Hardly a fitting match to his flannel shirt and worn jeans-but that was no revelation to him.

Hulk was at his food bowl when they entered the kitchen. The dog looked up from his kibble, spotted Lucy and ambled over to greet her, his feathery tail lazily sweeping the air as she removed her scarf and jacket and tossed them over a chair.

Admiring the way her cream-colored sweater emphasized her slender curves, Banner murmured, “He's excited to see you.”

Patting the dog's head, which she didn't even have to bend down to accomplish, Lucy looked around with a smile. “He shows it about as well as you do.”

Was she actually comparing him to his dog again? Just to prove that he was at least somewhat more demonstrative than his four-legged roomie, he reached out to tug her into his arms. “Maybe I can do a bit better.”

Her smile deepened. “I'm sure you can.”

His mouth was on hers almost before she finished speaking.

He had fantasized about kissing her again ever since the last time. Had dreamed of doing so again ever since she had driven away. And he had wondered if he would ever have another chance to hold her.

Without releasing her, he finally lifted his head a couple of inches. “I wasn't sure you would come back.”

Her fingers locked loosely behind his neck, she raised her eyebrows. “Didn't I tell you I would?”

“Yeah, well, people say things like that and then change their minds.”

“I don't,” she said, and pulled his mouth back to hers.

He had kissed plenty of women before, though perhaps not as many as some men his age could claim. What was so different about kissing Lucy? Why was the taste of her lips so memorable, the feel of her body so perfect against his? If simply kissing her was this good, he could only imagine how spectacular making love with her would be.

“The electricity is back,” Lucy murmured when Banner finally lifted his head for oxygen.

“Oh, yeah,” he muttered, still feeling the energy coursing through his veins.

She laughed. “I meant that your power lines have been repaired.”

Banner blinked and cleared his throat. “I knew what you meant.”

The look she gave him then was a bit too knowing. “Maybe you could make that tea?”

Feeling as awkward and nervous as a randy schoolboy, Banner let his arms fall to his sides. “Yeah. Sure. Uh…”

Still smiling, she moved to the sink to fill the kettle.

Lucy had been a little nervous when she had pulled into Banner's driveway, a bit concerned about what she would see in his eyes when he spotted her. Operating on a hunch, she hadn't even bothered knocking on his front door, but had walked straight to his workshop.

She had been somewhat disconcerted when his first words to her had been a lecture about shop safety. But when he had suddenly, rather humorously, realized she was back, his expression had been gratifyingly dazed. And when he had kissed her…well, suffice it to say those kisses had left no doubt in her mind that he was glad she had returned.

It was just as obvious that he had no idea what to do with her.

He sat grimly silent across the table as they sipped their tea. Even though the house was centrally heated now, the hot beverage still felt good in comparison to the crisp cold air outside. Lucy cradled the warm mug between her hands and studied Banner through her lashes.

“How's your work coming?” she asked. “Have you finished the order you were working on?”

“Almost. A few minor things left to do.”

“Then what?”

“Then I start working on another order.”

“It sounds as if you're doing well.”

He shrugged. “I have my regular customers who keep me busy.”

They had talked about his work before, of course. Lucy could think of nothing new to ask him about it just now, which meant that line of conversation had come to an end.

Banner made an effort to find a new topic. “How was your visit with your family?”

“It was great. I really enjoyed seeing everyone.”

“Your father is well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I'm, uh, happy to hear that.”

She couldn't help but laugh then. He was trying so hard to make innocuous small talk-and he was so very bad at it.

Her amusement made him scowl. “You're laughing at me.”

“I'm laughing at us,” she corrected him. “We're being so very proper and polite.”

His frown deepened. “I told you I'm not good at this. Talking to people, I mean.”

“Maybe we should go back to twenty questions. I think it's your turn. You have-what?-thirteen questions to go?”

“Fifteen,” he replied automatically. “The last one I asked you was your middle name. You're the one with thirteen to go.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You do have a good memory.”

“Yes,” he replied simply. “I do, actually. I remember every question we asked-and the answers.”

Which meant he was fully aware that she had been asking about his ex-wife when her impromptu game had ended. She would have to be a bit more careful with her questioning this time, but she still intended to find out as much about him as he would allow.

It seemed to her that the best way to start was to let him take the lead. “So, if you were to ask a sixth question about me, what would it be?”

“Why are you here?” he asked without even taking a moment to think about it.

She set her empty mug on the table. “Is that one of those existential, philosophical questions? Like what is the meaning of life?”

The look he gave her chided her for the deliberate misinterpretation. “You know what I meant.”

“Why did I come back?”

He nodded.

“You already know the answer to that one. I came back because I like you and I wanted to spend more time with you. I was rather hoping you felt the same way?”

It wasn't officially a question, she assured herself, but she lifted her voice at the end to encourage him to reply.

Instead, he nodded toward her mug. “Want some more tea? Something to eat, maybe?”

“No, to both questions, which, I assume, don't count toward your official twenty.”

He smiled a little at that. “I was just trying to be a good host.”

“You are a good host, whether you believe it or not. Ask anyone who stayed here Christmas Eve.”

As always, the compliment seemed to make him uncomfortable. “Do you have any hobbies?”

She grinned, knowing he had blurted out the first question that popped into his mind as a way to turn the subject away from him again. “A few. I love to read. I enjoy dancing. I play piano fairly well. And I play golf. Badly.”

He grunted. “I tried golf a few times. It was bad for my character.”

Amused, she asked, “In what way?”

“Ruined my language. I used cuss words I wasn't aware that I knew. How the hell is anyone supposed to put a ball that small into a little hole that far away? Football-now that's a sport. A big ball you can tuck into your arm and run with. Or basketball, maybe. At least the basket's right over your head, not half a mile away.”

“Do you play football or basketball?”

“I'm what you might call an armchair athlete. Catch the games on TV.”

She couldn't help running a slow, assessing look down his lean, muscular frame. “You must do something physical to stay in shape.”

He shifted in his chair, looking self-conscious. “I run a little.”

“More than a little, I think.”

“Five or six miles a day when the weather's nice. I'm not one of those guys who runs in rain or snow.”

“Whatever you're doing, it works for you.”

A hint of color crept up from the collar of his flannel shirt. “Could we change the subject now?”

Every time she turned the subject to him, he grew uncomfortable. So many men she encountered couldn't talk about anything except themselves. Did Banner really have so little conceit?

“Of course. Do you like to dance?” she asked him, thinking of how nicely she seemed to fit into his arms-even if he was nearly a foot taller.

“Is that one of your official questions?”

“Number eight, isn't it?”

“Close enough. And the answer is that I don't know how to dance. I doubt that I would be any good at it.”

“Surely you've danced a few times.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Never found myself in a position where I had to try.”

“School dances? Weddings?”

“Never attended any school dances. Only been to a couple of weddings, and neither one had dancing. Mine was in front of a judge at a county courthouse, so there was no reception.”

How could a guy get to be thirty years old without ever dancing? “Why didn't you go to any dances in school?”

“I tried a couple in junior high, because my mother made me. Hated 'em. Didn't know what to say or how to act. Basically they bored me senseless. I announced in ninth grade that I would never attend another one, and I didn't.”

No wonder he had never developed a talent for small talk. No one had encouraged him to participate in social activities or supplied him with the skills to make sure he enjoyed them.

Honestly, had his parents both been so absorbed with themselves and their younger offspring that they had given no thought at all to Banner's happiness? Had the protective shell he'd developed at such a young age been so tough that they hadn't been able to get through it-or had they given up trying too soon?

Something he must have read in her expression made him defensive. “I had friends in school. Guys like me who were interested in tools and cars and camping and fishing. Dated some, though not seriously until I hooked up with Katrina. I particularly enjoyed the hours I spent in my great-uncle's workshop. I was content with my life.”

Content, maybe, but still left feeling like an outsider, she mused. And as far as his ex-wife was concerned, Lucy had already surmised that he had married her because he'd been expected to marry and settle down at that stage in his life. It had been one of the few times Banner had tried to satisfy outside expectations, and that hadn't worked out. Which had only reinforced his reclusive self-image.

She saw nothing wrong with Banner's choice to work at home or to shun artificial social gestures. She simply sensed that he wasn't entirely happy with his solitude. She had watched him with his Christmas guests, and she had seen the pleasure he had taken in the companionship, even if he hadn't known how to express his feelings. And when he had watched the children open their gifts, she would have sworn that he was imagining Christmas mornings with children of his own, just as she had done.

Maybe she was mistaken, but she really didn't think so.

Banner was a man in need of someone to love, and someone to love him in return. She just happened to know a suitable candidate for that position.

Leap-before-you-look Lucy. Her cousin Mark's old nickname for her hovered in the back of her mind as she carried her teacup to the sink, then turned to smile up at Banner, who had followed her. “I'm ready to ask you my next question.”

He made a show of sighing in resignation. “Fire away.”

“Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “I did.”

Her smile deepening in pleasure at the unexpected sincerity of his answer, she held out her hand to him. “Prove it.”

Banner had spread his sleeping bag in front of the fire again. The fleece lining was soft beneath Lucy as she lay beside him in the warmth of the dancing flames. She loved the way the golden light played over his face, gleaming in his dark eyes and glinting in his thick dark hair. Appearance wasn't a priority for her when it came to men, but it certainly was a plus that Banner was so nice to look at.

He reached out to stroke a fingertip down her cheek, his touch gentle, as if he was afraid of hurting her. She felt the calluses on his skin, and she trembled at the thought of those work-roughened hands sliding over her body. It had been quite a while since she had felt any man's hands, actually. She hadn't even been tempted with any of the men she had dated recently in her quest for a soul mate-but oh, was she tempted now.

This had never happened for her before. Not this fast, this strong. And as exciting as it was, it was also a little scary. She'd had her heart bruised before, maybe even cracked a little-but it had never been broken.

Those few other men hadn't had the power to hurt her that badly. She wasn't at all sure the same was true of Banner.

Too fast. Too strong. But it felt real, nonetheless.

“You're frowning,” he said. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No.” She reached up to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead, an excuse to feel the silky texture. “I thought this might happen when I came back to you. I hoped it would, actually.”

His hair felt so nice against her fingers that she let her hand slide into it again. And since she was already there, she applied just enough pressure to bring his mouth closer to hers.

Banner took the less-than-subtle hint immediately. His lips covered hers as his arms closed around her to pull her close. His fire-warmed body was long, lean and hard against hers-the perfect counterpart to her petite curves, she decided on the spot, nestling into his strength. As much as she considered herself any man's equal, she could still savor the restrained power of work-honed muscles and the breadth of masculine chest and shoulders.

Behind her, the fire crackled and popped almost frantically as Banner's tongue slid between her lips. Trying, no doubt, to compete with the heat she and Banner were generating on this sleeping bag, Lucy mused dreamily.

It seemed completely natural for Banner to slip his hand beneath the hem of her sweater, his palm sliding across her back. Taking that move as an implied invitation, she allowed her own hands to wander, parting the buttons on his soft chamois shirt to reveal the white T-shirt beneath.

Another disadvantage to winter, she thought with a sigh. Way too many clothes involved.

Seemingly as impatient as she was to have her hands on him, Banner shrugged out of his shirt, then tugged the T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Lucy sighed again, this time in sheer appreciation. Was there any part of this man that wasn't beautiful?

She couldn't wait to find out.

Though she had always been a woman who went after what she wanted, Lucy didn't generally consider herself the wanton or aggressive type. Something about Banner made her behave in ways that might have seemed uncharacteristic to her before she had met him.

As if to illustrate that point, she reached for him. All that sleek, tanned skin was simply impossible to resist.

She pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse hammering there. His hand was unsteady when he tugged at her sweater, proving that he was as eager as she was. The muscles in his jaw were clenched, making his face look almost harsh when she glanced back up at him, but his eyes gleamed with a hunger that equaled hers.

Funny, she thought, drawing his mouth to hers again. She had left her home to spend the holiday with people she loved. Who would have dreamed that she would end up falling in love on the way?

Maybe it had happened too fast. And maybe she wasn't destined for a lifetime of happiness with this man. But what she felt for him now was much more than simple infatuation. More than lust. She loved everything she had learned about him, and she couldn't wait to learn more.

Maybe neither Lucy nor Banner had intended to do more than talk or kiss when they had stretched out in front of the fire. Maybe. At least, Lucy hadn't deliberately thought that far ahead when Banner had kicked the sleeping bag open and then drawn her down onto it.

Okay, she thought in a sudden rush of rueful honesty. She had known exactly what she was doing. And she had no doubt that Banner had known, too. Maybe it was just easier to pretend to be swept away by passion than to admit that she had wanted him since she'd first met him, and that she had stayed behind when everyone else left because she had wanted this to happen.

And maybe she didn't really want to know what Banner was thinking right now, especially if he was thinking along the lines of a single night of pleasure.

But still she heard herself saying, “Banner?”

He lifted his head from her throat, which he had reached on his leisurely path downward from her lips. “Yeah?”

“This is…important to you, right?”

He went very still, his eyes searching her face as if seeking the meaning behind her hesitant question. “How do you define important?”

“More than a convenient tumble, less than a declaration of undying devotion.”

He seemed to be getting used to her way of phrasing things. “Then, trust me, it's important.”

She smiled and reached for him. “If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be here.”

He hesitated a moment and then, muttering something she couldn't understand, he crushed her mouth beneath his.

Sweaters and jeans and socks and underthings fell into haphazard piles around the sleeping bag. Firelight bathed their bodies as they explored each other, but they would have been plenty warm even without the fire. The heat they generated between them was enough to bring a fine sheen of perspiration to their bare skin.

Banner disappeared long enough to close his dog in the kitchen, and when he returned, he carried a couple of small foil squares that Lucy recognized as condoms. There would be no unwelcome repercussions of this afternoon-at least, no physical ones. The emotional aftereffects remained to be seen.

Confident that she could handle whatever might happen between them because she wouldn't allow herself to expect too much, she gave herself over to pleasure.

Lucy hadn't expected Banner to talk during lovemaking, and he hadn't. She thought he might say something, at least, afterward. Instead he lay on his back, staring at the living room ceiling, his face absolutely motionless except for the dancing of shadows from the fire. He had been active enough earlier. Had he used all his energy?

Lying on her side, she rose on one elbow to study him. His hair was a mess-her hands had done that. There was a small smudge of lipstick on his throat-she had done that, too. She suspected that if she could see his back, she might detect a faint scratch or two.

She had definitely left her mark on him. Just as he had left his mark on her heart-invisible, but real, nonetheless.

“Banner?”

“Mmm?” he responded without looking at her.

“Have you gone comatose?”

His mouth twitched with what might have been a smile. “Maybe.”

“How long do you think it will take you to recover?”

“I'm not sure that I will.”

She smiled. “I think I'll take that as a compliment.”

He glanced at her then, his dark eyes gleaming. “It was meant as one.”

Resting a hand on his chest, she spread her fingers and admired the contrast between her fair skin and his tan. “I never expected anything like this when I set out on this trip.”

“Kind of took me by surprise, too.”

She walked her fingers up his chest to the very shallow indention in his chin. “You make a very nice Christmas present, Richard Merchant Banner.”

He frowned, and she wondered if it was due to her words or her use of the full name he didn't particularly like. “I, uh…”

Whatever he had intended to say, he apparently changed his mind. Instead he set her hand aside and rolled to his feet. “I think I'll take a shower. I'll use the master bath, so you can have the front one.”

“Okay, thank-”

He was gone before she could complete the sentence. And if Lucy had ever seen a panicky escape, that had been one.

Too much? Too soon?

She knew the feeling. But maybe she was dealing with it a bit better than Banner.

Sighing lightly, she reached for an afghan, pulling it around her as she padded toward the bathroom, her clothes in her hands. She wondered what the odds were that Banner would talk to her about his feelings when he finally reappeared.

For some reason, she wasn't overly optimistic about it.