Make-Believe Mistletoe

Chapter Fourteen

Lucy was hit with an immediate sense of familiarity when she walked into Banner's living room a bit later that afternoon. Having grown up in a household with her uncle and two male cousins, she was well acquainted with the sounds of football on the TV and grunts of satisfaction or disgust from the guys sprawled on the furniture. The smells of beer, popcorn and cheese puffs made her smile with nostalgia.

“Who's winning?” she asked, crossing the room and plopping down on the couch beside Banner.

“It's tied at fourteen.” Banner draped an arm around her, almost absentmindedly, and she snuggled contentedly into his side. “Did you find any champagne?”

“Sparkling grape juice. You might have told me this is a dry county.”

He chuckled. “You were so insistent on going yourself, I figured you knew what you were doing.”

Quite cheerfully she punched him in the side. “Thanks a lot.”

With a faint “oomph,” he shifted his position, gave her a look, then turned his attention back to the TV in time to watch a long spiraling pass fall right into the hands of a defensive player. “Son of a-”

“What was he thinking?” Tim complained loudly. “Didn't he see that sea of opposing color surrounding his receiver?”

“I think he saw those two human tanks coming right at his head,” Lucy answered, reaching for a handful of popcorn. “I'd have gotten rid of that ball, myself.”

Banner and Tim got into a heated discussion on whether an intentional grounding penalty would have been better or worse than a sack in that play. Delighted that the brothers were communicating in such a basic, male-bonding sort of way, Lucy settled in to watch the rest of the game.

One game had ended and they were engrossed in another when Banner's telephone rang. He looked immediately at Tim, who was looking back at him with a rueful expression. It seemed that both of them had the same premonition about who was calling.

“Ten-to-one that's Dad,” Tim muttered.

“Sucker bet,” Banner replied, standing to reach for the phone. Maybe they would both be wrong and it would be for Lucy, he thought hopefully.

No such luck.

“Hello, Richard.” His father spoke with his usual brusque lack of warmth.

“Sir.” Having decided years earlier that Dad was too familiar a term to describe his relationship with his father,

Banner had settled for the more formal appellation. Richard, Sr., had never protested.

“I don't suppose you've heard from your brother today.” “He's been here all day.” Banner didn't think Tim had wanted his whereabouts kept secret or he would have said so.

After a momentary pause, Richard sighed. “I shouldn't be surprised.”

“Do you want to talk to him?” Banner asked a bit hopefully.

“No. I've said all I know to say to him. But maybe you'll have more luck. You are trying to talk him into going back to school, aren't you?”

“No.”

His father's voice chilled several degrees. “Why the hell not?”

Aware that both Tim and Lucy were listening, though they seemed to be watching the game, Banner replied, “Tim's old enough to make his own decisions.”

“I should have expected you to take that attitude.”

“What attitude is that, sir?” Banner inquired coolly.

“You're frittering your own life away, and now you seem to be encouraging your brother to do the same. I don't know what made me think you would show any responsibility or loyalty to this family now, when you never have before.”

“Yeah, well, that's just the kind of guy I am.” Even Banner heard the sharp edge to the drawl he had intended to sound merely laconic.

“Your mother did a hell of a job raising you. My wife always warned me about letting Tim spend too much time with you, but I never thought there was a danger that you would have that much influence over him.”

“Are there any other criticisms you want to make, or are you about finished?”

“That will do for now. I can only hope spending a few days with you will bring your brother to his senses about the kind of life he could end up leading if he doesn't get back to school.”

“I'm sure Tim will be just fine whatever he decides to do. As you've always made a point of telling everyone, he's a smart guy. Smart enough not to let anyone run his life for him-including you.”

“All I can say is that both of my sons have been bitter disappointments to me,” Richard said stiffly.

Banner kept his own tone rigidly polite. “I'm sorry you feel that way, sir. Maybe you should take some time to ask yourself if maybe you expected too much from us. And whether we might be a bit disappointed with you,” he couldn't resist adding before he abruptly disconnected the call.

Tim was on his feet by the time Banner replaced the handset in its cradle. His hands in his pockets, his expression young and vulnerable, he murmured, “You said 'we.”'

Confused, Banner frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It's the first time you've acted like we're on the same side,” Tim clarified, his cheeks a bit red. “Like we're really brothers.”

“Well, we aren't sisters,” Banner returned, then almost winced at the lameness of the awkward retort. Uncomfortable with the emotion in the kid's eyes, he cleared his throat and turned sharply on one heel. “I'm going to start dinner. I'm getting hungry.”

It was a lie, of course. He wasn't sure he could eat anything at the moment. But it gave him an excuse to get away from all this emotion and drama.

Hell, this was the reason he had done everything he could to avoid getting entangled with his half siblings, he told himself as he stalked into the other room.

Urging Tim to stay behind with the dog, Lucy followed Banner into the kitchen, having given him a few minutes to collect himself after his father's call. She found him with his head stuck in the pantry, his posture stiff enough to be termed ramrod. It took nerve to deal with him in this mood, but Lucy had never lacked for courage.

Some might have added that there were times when she lacked good sense to accompany her recklessness. She hoped this wasn't one of those times.

“How are you doing?” she asked, stopping a few feet behind him.

“Great. How does spaghetti sound for dinner? The sauce would be from a jar, but I can spice it up a little with a few extra ingredients.”

He was so determined not to show his emotions, and from what she had heard of his conversation with his father, Lucy could certainly understand why he had developed that habit. But it couldn't be healthy to keep so much bottled inside.

“Spaghetti sounds fine. Do you want to talk about your father's call?”

“Not particularly.” Carrying an assortment of bottles and cans to the counter, he set them down and reached for a pan.

“He didn't really blame you for Tim quitting law school, did he?”

“Pretty much. But I really don't want to talk about it right now.”

She was nothing if not persistent. “That was terribly unfair of him. But Tim appreciates you sticking up for him. You know that he pretty well hero-worships you, don't you? And that he probably has all his life?”

As she had expected, Banner reacted to her comments with a frown and a growl. “That's bull. He just came here because he didn't have anywhere else to go where no one would try to tell him what he should do.”

Lucy had a different opinion about that. She suspected Tim had thought that rebelling against their father's manipulations would finally give him something in common with his reclusive older brother. She didn't think Tim had gone so far as to quit law school for that reason-she believed him when he said he'd been pressured into a career he had never wanted to pursue-but he had known where to come for support in that decision.

“He's so young,” she murmured, looking toward the doorway.

“Not that much younger than you are.”

“Almost six years. And somehow I get the feeling that he's young for his years. Do you think he'll be okay?”

“He'll be fine. It'll do him good to be out on his own for a while.”

“At least he'll have you to guide him a bit.”

Banner frowned at her. “He doesn't want or need me to guide him. He's a grown man, got a college degree. He can fend for himself.”

Wandering to the refrigerator, she pulled out raw vegetables for a salad. “You had your great-uncle to turn to,” she reminded him. “Tim has you.”

The comparison seemed to startle him. He looked thoughtful as he continued cooking. Knowing he needed time to digest the events of the day, Lucy forced herself to work quietly beside him, leaving the questions and observations for later.

When the meal was on the table a short time later, Lucy went into the living room to call Tim away from the television. “Dinner's ready.”

“Great,” he said, almost bounding from his chair. “I'm starved.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Lucy looked at the empty snack bowls and soda cans scattered around the room. It hadn't been too many hours since they'd lunched on chili dogs and chips, which both Banner and Tim had agreed made for perfect football food. Tim might have declared himself a man, but he still had the appetite of a teenager, she thought with a shake of her head.

Lucy and Tim kept up a lively conversation during the meal, chatting about everything from sports to movies to music to politics. Banner didn't contribute much, but Lucy knew he heard every word they said.

After dinner, Lucy pulled out the bags of supplies she had purchased for their impromptu New Year's Eve party. Tim watched with curiosity, and Banner with signs of trepidation, as she unearthed an assortment of games, sparkling grape juice, plastic wineglasses, noisemakers and party crackers.

“You really get into the spirit of things, don't you?” Tim asked her with a grin.

“That's what some people would call an understatement,” Banner murmured, glancing around his living room as if thinking of the Christmas decorations that had filled nearly every inch of it.

Lucy gave him an exaggerated frown. “At least I didn't ask you to chop anything down for this celebration.”

“I should be grateful for small favors, I suppose.”

She carried the games to the coffee table. “You are, however, required to participate in the festivities. I bought Yahtzee, canasta and Uno. Which one do you want to play first?”

He might have looked more resigned than enthusiastic, but he went along, settling onto the couch while Lucy and Tim arranged themselves on the floor on the other side of the table. They chose to play Yahtzee first, and it wasn't long before Lucy and Tim were noisily cheering their luck or complaining about their lack thereof.

A football game played on the television behind them, the sound muted but still audible. Banner had started another fire, which hissed and popped, filling the room with cheerful noises, cozy warmth, flickering light and a woodsy scent. Lucy was almost blissfully content.

She already felt almost as comfortable with Tim as she was with her cousins. Banner, however, was a different story. While she enjoyed his company, the constant sexual attraction she felt for him made comfortable entirely the wrong adjective for her feelings toward him. There were times during the evening when she simply glanced up at him and was hit with a wave of such intense emotion it was all she could do not to leap at him.

She felt almost like a schoolgirl with her first overpowering crush. But there was nothing girlish about the depth of her yearning for this man, she mused.

Fingers snapped suddenly in front of her face, bringing her out of her latest romantic reverie.

“Yo, Lucy,” Tim prompted impatiently. “Your roll.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She reached hastily for the dice cup, embarrassed to realize she had been staring hungrily at Banner-long enough for him to be looking back at her with an intensity that made more than her cheeks go hot in reaction.

Dragging her gaze away from him, she glanced at Tim, only to find him grinning at both her and his brother with a knowing look that made her gulp and throw the dice so hard they bounced off the table and onto the floor.

As glad as she was that Banner was embarking on a new relationship with his younger brother, there were times when three was definitely a crowd.

With only a little effort, Banner could recall last New Year's Eve. He and Hulk had watched football, shared a pizza and a beer, and turned in at just after midnight, both expecting the new year to differ little from the one that had preceded it.

This New Year's Eve was definitely different.

He glanced at his coffee table, which was littered with empty hot cocoa mugs, scribbled score sheets and the remains of several junk food binges. On the other side of the room, Lucy and Tim were pouring sparkling grape juice into plastic wineglasses. Midnight was ten minutes away, and Lucy had declared it time to begin the traditional celebrations.

She brought him a glass of grape juice, a yellow plastic horn and a silver-foil-covered party cracker. He looked skeptically at the latter. “What do you want me to do with that?”

“Hold both ends and pull,” she instructed. “You'll find surprises inside.”

Because she was looking at him so hopefully, he let her press the favor into his hands. If he wasn't careful, he was going to find himself following at her heels like a lapdog, he thought with a sigh of mild self-reproach. Still, the brilliance of her smile seemed to amply reward his efforts. Something about Lucy made him care about her happiness more than his own convenience, and that was a new sensation for him. A rather unsettling one, at that.

Pushing his misgivings to the back of his mind, he took hold of the ends of the foil wrapped around a cardboard tube and gave a tug. With a popping sound, the tube opened. He reached inside to pull out a folded purple paper hat, a colorful plastic spinning top and a slip of white paper.

“Read your fortune,” Lucy urged.

“'New pleasures await you,”' he read obediently.

She discreetly patted his bottom. “That sounds promising.”

He nearly swallowed his tongue.

Lucy had already turned to Tim. “Open yours,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, proving himself as susceptible as Banner to Lucy's bewitchery. His cracker contained a yellow paper hat, a plastic parachute man, and a fortune that read, “Your fate rests in your own hands.”

Tim looked suspiciously at Lucy. “You didn't happen to know what fortune was in here, did you?”

“How could I?” she responded with a laugh. “It was the luck of the draw. But it's true, you know.”

“That's what I've been telling myself for the past few days,” he replied wryly.

“Well?” Banner prodded Lucy, finding himself unexpectedly curious. “What's in yours?”

Smiling at him, she pulled the ends of her cracker, giggled at the resulting pop, then dug out a green paper hat and a bracelet made of pink and green plastic beads strung on elastic thread. She promptly put on the bracelet, then read her fortune aloud. “'Persistence pays off.' Hmm. That's always sort of been my motto. Kind of eerie how fitting these were, isn't it?”

Banner shrugged. “They're always vague enough to fit whoever reads them.”

Ignoring his cynicism, she grabbed her wineglass. “Let's have a toast before the ball drops. Who wants to make one?”

“You go ahead,” Banner said, picking up his own glass. Tim agreed that Lucy should be the one to make the toast.

“Okay.” She gave her words only a moment's thought. “To Tim,” she began, lifting her glass in his direction. “May you find the path that leads you to happiness and fulfillment.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. And to Banner,” she went on, turning to him.

He felt the muscles at the base of his neck tense with his uncertainty about what she might say next.

“May you learn to see yourself as the generous, talented and unique person that I see when I look at you,” she said, smiling at him in a way that made his chest ache as if he'd just been kicked. His throat tightened, making it darned near impossible for him to speak, even if he had known what to say.

Tim watched them with an expression Banner couldn't quite read. Was Tim as surprised as Banner by the way Lucy had described him?

Tim was probably wondering if he and Lucy knew the same guy. Banner, on the other hand, was even more concerned, now, that Lucy had created an image in her mind based on unusual circumstances-a combination, perhaps, of the holidays, the ice storm, and a powerful, and wholly unanticipated sexual attraction.

He gave Tim a look that held a classic, and unmistakable masculine appeal for help. Tim promptly took him up on it, drawing attention away from Lucy's words by proposing one of his own. “To Lucy,” he said, lifting his glass. “Thank you for helping me reconnect with my brother, and I hope he knows how incredibly lucky he is to have met you.”

Banner wasn't sure that sentiment was any less fraught with emotional landmines than Lucy's had been, but at least she was smiling at Tim now and not waiting for Banner to say anything. To further avoid having to do so, he tipped up his plastic glass and drank deeply, wishing it held something a bit stronger than bubbly grape juice.

Having taken an obligatory sip of her own juice, Lucy pointed to the television screen. “The ball is starting to drop. Quick, everyone grab your noisemakers.”

Banner thought about passing on that suggestion, but the look she gave him had him sighing and picking up the plastic horn. Definitely a bossy little thing, he thought…but he supposed he could indulge her for one more holiday.

There was something inherently thrilling about the stroke of midnight at the dawn of a new year, Lucy thought as she began to count down along with the crowd on the screen. There were so many possibilities. So many surprises waiting to be discovered.

“Ten…nine…”

Tim seemed to be as excited as Lucy about the countdown. She figured that he was experiencing many of the same emotions she felt-eagerness, anticipation, hope. A little nervous about what lay ahead for him and whether he had finally found the key to his ultimate fulfillment.

“Seven…six…”

Banner, on the other hand, seemed to be going through the motions of the celebration. As if he was clinging to the safety and familiarity of the old year.

“Three…two…one! Happy new year!” Lucy blew an enthusiastic blast on her plastic horn, echoed almost as heartily by Tim, and very briefly by Banner. And then she rested a hand on Banner's arm and lifted her face expectantly toward him.

“More imaginary mistletoe?” he murmured.

“It's customary to kiss at midnight,” she prompted him.

“Is that right?”

She could tell by his expression that he'd known all along. Whether he had been teasing her or simply stalling, she didn't know, but when he bent his head to press a long, firm kiss against her lips, she found she didn't particularly care.

As far as Lucy was concerned, the new year was starting out very well. It looked as though Santa had come through very generously on her Christmas wish this time.

They turned in an hour or so later. Tim took the guest bedroom. He didn't seem to find it particularly surprising that Lucy would be sharing Banner's bed.

Banner closed his bedroom door, then looked a bit uncertainly at Lucy. “Sorry about my brother showing up like this. I hope it doesn't make you too uncomfortable about…well, you know.”

“I like your brother very much. I've had a lovely New Year's Eve. And I'm not at all uncomfortable about…you know,” she teased him, sliding her hands invitingly up his chest. “Not if you're referring to the fact that you and I are lovers.”

Apparently, lovers was another hot-button term to Banner. His eyes darkened and his face went carefully expressionless. He motioned toward the bathroom. “I'll let you have first shift at tooth brushing.”

“You go ahead. I need to get some things out of my bag.”

Banner was already in bed when Lucy emerged from the bathroom later. He had left the bedside lamp on for her. Lucy was satisfied that the romantically dimmed light was quite flattering to the slinky ivory silk nightgown she had purchased in Springfield for this special night.

At the sight of her, Banner rose slowly to one elbow. The beddings were draped at his waist, leaving his chest bare. His sleek, tanned skin gleamed in the golden lamp light, making Lucy's mouth go dry.

“You are beautiful,” he said.

Three simple, well-worn words-and yet they made her knees go weak, and brought a lump to her throat.

She wouldn't expect flowery compliments from Banner. He would never wax poetic or shower her with practiced flattery. What she could depend on from him was simple honesty. Banner thought she was beautiful. How could she not be swept off her feet?

He patted the bed beside him. “What are you waiting for?”

You, she thought. I've been waiting for you all my life.

Without a word, she moved to join him. Banner welcomed her with open arms.

A long time later Lucy listened to Banner's heartbeats beneath her cheek. The sound was steady and reassuring, and she thought she could happily listen to it for the rest of her life.

The bedcoverings were tangled around them. Her expensive nightgown lay tumbled on the floor beside the bed. The bedside lamp was off now, but enough moonlight filtered through the window for her to see Banner's face when she looked up at him.

He looked thoughtful, she decided. As though he was mulling over something very important.

Apparently sensing her gaze on him, he glanced down. “Aren't you sleepy?”

“No.” It wasn't a lie. Lucy was wide awake, unwilling to miss one moment of this magical night. “Are you?”

“No.”

Crossing her hands on his chest, she propped her chin on them. “You want to talk?”

“About what?”

“Maybe whatever it is that you're thinking about so seriously?”

He lay in silence for a while longer, and she didn't press him, figuring he would talk when-and if-he was ready. After a while he cleared his throat. “When do you have to go back home?”

“I have to be back at work next week.”

He waited another few beats and then said, “Maybe you can give me a call next time you plan to visit your family? Maybe you could drop in to see me for a few hours.”

Something about that awkwardly worded suggestion made her frown. “I'm not sure I understand…”

“I thought we could see each other again sometime, if you like. I'm pretty much here all the time, and since you have to go right past here to get to your family, anyway…”

Lucy swallowed. Hard. “And perhaps you could come visit me in Conway soon? It really isn't that far, you know.”

“I'm not much for visiting,” he said without inflection. “You know me. I tend to be more comfortable here, with my own company. But you would be welcome anytime.”

“How hospitable of you.” She rolled away from him, reaching for her nightgown.

Banner pushed himself to his elbow. “Is something wrong?”

Without answering, she pulled the nightgown over her head, feeling only somewhat less vulnerable when she was covered by the thin fabric.

“You and I live very different lives, you know,” he said, as if sensing her disappointment with his suggestion that they see each other only on occasional, fleeting visits. “I can't imagine you would be content to give up your career and the life you've made for yourself to sit around here with Hulk and me.”

He spoke lightly, as if expecting her to be as amused by that suggestion as he was pretending to be.

“You're right,” she said without smiling. “I wouldn't be at all content with that.”

“Of course not. My ex-wife nearly went crazy from boredom before she finally escaped. But maybe I'm not so bad in small doses. So you'll stop in again sometime.”

“Like your buddy Polston,” she murmured. “A drop-in friend.”

“It was just a suggestion.” His tone was stilted now, and he obviously regretted that he had said anything at all.

“You know, maybe I am tired, after all,” she said, lying down with her back to him. “We'd better get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right. We can talk tomorrow.”

It was going to take a lot more than talk to get through this man's thick skull, Lucy thought as she pulled the covers to her ears and frowned fiercely into the darkness. Somehow she had to figure out a way to overcome the results of a lifetime of rejections and convince Banner that he deserved much more than he was prepared to settle for.