Make-Believe Mistletoe

Chapter Twelve

Banner busied himself cooking as soon as he emerged from the bathroom. He had paused only long enough to ask Lucy if she had to hurry on her way, or if she would be staying the night.

“I'm in no hurry to leave, if you don't mind me staying for a while longer,” she replied, watching his face for a clue to his feelings.

He merely nodded. “Then, I'll start dinner.”

Lucy knew he liked to cook, but it also gave him something to do to avoid having a meaningful, postlovemaking conversation with her. She wouldn't rush him, she promised herself. She could give Banner as much time and space as he needed, since he didn't seem to be in any hurry to send her away.

“What can I do to help with dinner?” she asked.

“I've got it under control,” he replied. “I had already planned to make a pot of gumbo tonight, so the ingredients are already chopped and ready. Uh, you do like gumbo, don't you?”

“I love gumbo or any kind of Cajun food, for that matter. I try to get down to New Orleans at least once a year, mostly for the food.”

“I've been there a couple of times. Lots of fancy restaurants, but the best food I found was in the little dives the locals frequent.”

“I feel the same way. I'd rather have a bowl of red beans and rice from a little mom and pop diner than the fanciest blackened offerings from those five-star restaurants.”

He sent her a look over his shoulder that expressed both approval and mild surprise. “So would I.”

That was certainly no revelation to Lucy. “What were you planning to have for dessert?”

He shrugged. “I haven't really given that any thought.”

“Do you mind if I make something? I'll stay out of your way.”

He motioned toward the pantry. “Knock yourself out.”

Pleased to have come up with an excuse to work side by side with him, she moved to the pantry to take stock of his refurbished supplies.

Lucy felt no real need to fill the companionable silence between them as they cooked. That was a rather new experience for her. Usually when she was with someone, she felt the need to keep a conversation going, to fill the silence if only with trivialities. But she found it enough just to be with Banner, working side by side with only the occasional smiling glance between them. He seemed content, too, and she thought he enjoyed having her there-though, of course, with Banner it was sometimes hard to tell.

She bent to place the chocolate cake she had stirred together into the oven. Banner was standing at the stove stirring the spicy-scented gumbo, and she brushed against him as she straightened. The contact made a shiver of awareness run through her. The look he exchanged with her then made her aware that he felt much the same way.

She smiled at him. “I like being here with you.”

“Why?”

His curious response made her giggle. “I just do. Why does that seem so surprising to you?”

He shrugged, then partially changed the subject. “You pretty much say whatever pops into your head, don't you?”

“If you mean I try to be honest about what I'm feeling, then yes, I do. Trying to guess what other people are thinking or feeling is what leads to so many misunderstandings and uncertainties, don't you think?”

“Maybe.”

“C'mon, Banner, you must feel the same way. You don't say things you don't mean, do you?”

“No,” he admitted, “but I don't necessarily say everything I'm thinking, either.”

“I don't say everything I'm thinking,” she agreed. “I haven't told you how pretty your eyes are, have I? Or that you have a truly spectacular body?”

The wooden spoon he had been holding hit the floor. Giving her a startled look of reproof that made her laugh again, he bent to retrieve it. “For crying out loud, Lucy.”

She couldn't resist teasing him a bit more. He was so darned cute when he was embarrassed-though she had a feeling cute was another word that would set him off. “Hasn't anyone ever told you what pretty eyes you have?”

“I can't say they have,” he muttered, rinsing the spoon at the sink.

“See? How would you have known if I hadn't told you?”

“I've never met anyone quite like you.”

“I'm not so unusual. You just don't get out much.”

He laughed then. “Maybe that's it.”

She had never heard him laugh before. Had never seen his usually stern face lightened with a full grin. It didn't last long, but oh, lordy, it was amazing. And by the time he sobered again, Lucy was even more convinced that she wouldn't be getting over her feelings for Banner anytime soon.

Leaving the gumbo to simmer and the cake to bake, Banner and Lucy moved back into the living room. Banner was still rattled by her outrageous flattery. He wasn't used to that sort of flirting, and he wasn't sure how to respond. But, oddly enough, he had rather liked it. It was nice to hear that she found him attractive.

Trailing her into the living room, he allowed his gaze to travel down her trim figure. Speaking of spectacular bodies…

All too aware of the sleeping bag still spread invitingly in front of the fire, he cleared his throat and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He tried to mask his thoughts when Lucy turned to look at him. “Where's that deck of cards we were playing with Christmas Eve?”

“Cards?” Did Lucy plan to demonstrate her mind-reading skills again? If she wanted to read his mind, she didn't need a deck of cards. She only had to check out the condition of his body, instead.

“We can pass the time by playing gin rummy or something while our dinner cooks.”

“Gin rummy.” He shook his head as soon as the words left his mouth; he sounded like a damned parrot repeating everything she said.

“Or some other game,” she said cheerfully. “It doesn't really matter.”

“For someone who claims not to like games, you sure play a lot of them,” he grumbled, digging the cards out of a table drawer.

“I love games-just not the hypocritical ones that people play in social situations,” she corrected, settling on the floor in front of the coffee table.

He sank onto the couch and handed her the cards. “How can you survive in the academic world without playing social games?”

She took the cards from the box and began to shuffle them. “Academia has its own set of rules that I follow sporadically. And you'll note that I chose a small, public university as opposed to one of the more structured liberal arts schools. It's a somewhat less political, kiss-up type atmosphere.”

“I couldn't put up with all the bull, myself.”

“Which is why you choose to be self-employed. I figure putting up with a certain amount of bull is the price of working in a job that I enjoy.”

Made sense, he supposed. And he couldn't help noticing that nothing in her words or her behavior seemed to imply that her teaching career was any more respectable than his woodworking. Of course, she probably hadn't stopped to think about the fact that she had a Ph. D. and he'd gotten no further, academically, than high school graduation.

He picked up the seven cards she had dealt to him. “What are we playing?”

“Gin rummy. Do you have any fives?”

He looked at her over the cards. “That isn't the way you play gin rummy.”

“It isn't?”

“No. You're playing Go Fish.”

“Oh. Well, do you have any fives?”

Shaking his head, he handed her a card. “You don't actually know how to play gin rummy, do you?”

“Apparently not.”

Because Lucy was such a proponent of speaking one's mind, he said, “You aren't quite normal, are you aware of that?”

She laughed, which he had to admit was the reaction he had hoped for, since he liked the sound so much. “That's what my father always says. I think the two of you would hit it off.”

Himself and the major? Doubtful, Banner thought, looking at the cards in his hand. Not that he expected to meet Lucy's father anytime soon, if ever.

“Got any sevens?” she asked.

“Go fish.”

She grinned and reached for a card.

Glancing again at the sleeping bag, Banner sighed and resigned himself to playing a slightly offbeat card game with a decidedly offbeat Christmas elf. But the game was interrupted only a few minutes later by a loud rapping on the front door.

Recognizing the rhythm of the knock, Banner stood and crossed the room to answer.

The man on the doorstep wore a thick gray knit cap topped with a purple tassel, a neon-yellow jacket zipped over jeans that looked ready for a rag bin, and expensive running shoes that had seen a lot of hard use. His brown hair hung in a low ponytail over the collar of the jacket, and his lean face was stubbled with two or three days worth of beard. “Hey, Banner. How's it going?”

“Hey, Polston. What's up?”

“Not the temperature. It's cold as a gold digger's heart out here. Really dumb time to go out for a run, but I was feeling restless. Gonna ask me in or are you being antisocial today?”

“No, come in.”

A couple of years younger than Banner, Polston lived in a log cabin a few miles down the road. They had known each other almost two years and had become friends and frequent running partners during that time. At least, Banner supposed they could be called friends, even though he certainly didn't feel as if he knew the other man that well. Kyle Polston was almost as rabid as Banner about maintaining his privacy.

Polston was talking even as he entered the living room. “I was thinking about getting up early in the morning and driving to Springfield to the big sporting goods store there. I'm hoping to find a couple of after-Christmas bargains on some fly fishing gear. Thought you might want to…”

He had spotted Lucy. She still sat cross-legged on the floor, and the firelight danced in her red-gold curls. Lively curiosity gleamed in her big green eyes. Her sensual mouth was curved into a warm smile of welcome. Banner figured there wasn't a man alive who would look at her now and not feel as though he had been body slammed.

The way Polston was staring at her seemed to confirm Banner's assumption. Banner watched as the other man took in Lucy's tumbled hair, shoeless feet and the sleeping bag spread in front of the fireplace. And then he turned to look speculatively at Banner. “I see you already have plans.”

“Lucy, meet Polston. My neighbor.”

She stood and held out her hand. “It's very nice to meet you, Mr…?”

“Kyle Polston,” he clarified, taking her hand and holding it. “You can call me whatever you like-as long as you call me.”

Banner cleared his throat. Even to him it sounded suspiciously like a growl. Polston grinned. “Message received,” he murmured, then reluctantly released Lucy's hand. “Have you two known each other long?”

“Not very long,” Banner replied. “We're about to have dinner. Would you like to join us?”

He'd felt obligated to make the offer, not wanting Lucy to think him rude, but he wasn't disappointed when Polston shook his head. “I don't want to intrude. Need me to pick up anything for you in Springfield tomorrow?”

“See if they've got a good deal on number-five weight forward-floating fly line and some 6X tippet. I'll reimburse you, of course.”

“Will do. Lucy, it's been a pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand again as he spoke, holding it long enough to make Banner's scowl return. “I hope we have a chance to see each other again.”

Banner motioned toward the door. “You'll probably want to head home before dark. As you said, it's damned cold out there.”

Polston grinned. “Here's your hat, what's your hurry? Don't worry, Banner, I can take a hint. I'll let you know if I find a sale on the fishing line and tippet.”

“See you, Polston.” Banner closed the door behind the other man with a sense of relief he couldn't quite explain.

Lucy was studying his face when he looked around at her. “He seemed nice,” she said.

“Yeah, he's okay.”

“Have you known him long?”

“Couple of years.”

“Is he married?”

He felt his eyebrows dip even further downward. “Why?”

“Just curious about your friends,” she said, her expression surprised innocence.

“No, he's not married. Never has been. Like me he's too much the oddball to settle into an average domestic routine. Unlike me, he was smart enough to figure that out before he tried it.”

She seemed to digest his words for a few minutes, as though thinking about the not-so-subtle message carried in them. And then she turned toward the kitchen. “I think the cake should be about done. And I'm hungry.”

It took him only a moment to switch mental gears and follow her. He was getting better at keeping up with her conversational switches. But that didn't exactly mean he and Lucy were meant to be together, he reminded himself with a hollow feeling somewhere deep in his gut.

“What do you usually do after dinner?” Lucy asked as she and Banner cleared away the dishes. They hadn't had dessert yet, but they'd eaten hearty portions of the spicy gumbo. They'd dined without much conversation, but once again it had been a companionable quiet between them, and Lucy hadn't felt the need to fill it with babble.

Banner shrugged as he bent to place the gumbo pot in a lower cabinet. “Sometimes I work. Sometimes I read or watch TV.”

“Do you ever go out?”

“There's a place not far from here where a bunch of guys get together to play pool or darts. I hang out there when I want company-a couple of times a month at the most.”

“Have you dated much since your divorce?”

“Not much,” he said, closing the cabinet door with a finality that also seemed to close that line of conversation. “Want me to make a pot of coffee?”

“Only if you want some. I'll wait until we have our cake.”

They moved into the living room where Banner turned on the television and settled on the couch. She wondered if he intended the noise from the TV to serve as a barrier of sorts between them so she wouldn't ask any more personal questions. He should have known her better than that by now, she thought with a faint smile.

Rather than choosing one of the other chairs, she curled on the couch next to him, nestled comfortably against his shoulder. After a moment he shifted to better accommodate her, draping one arm around her.

Her smile deepening, she glanced at the television. The sound was barely turned up loud enough to hear the newscast that had been playing when he turned it on. Since Banner didn't seem particularly interested in the latest news from the Middle East, Lucy didn't hesitate to start talking again. “Tell me about your siblings.”

Either he had been expecting more questions or he was simply getting used to her unabashed nosiness. He sounded more resigned than surprised when he responded, “All of them?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Because-”

“I want to get to know you better,” he finished in unison with her, making her laugh.

And then he sighed. “I've already told you that my father has two overachieving offspring-Brenda, the medical student, and Tim, the first-year law student. Brenda's very intense, highly focused, goal oriented. She wants everything in her life to fit into neatly organized slots. Including me, I'm afraid. It bugs her that she can't categorize me as easily as she thinks she should. She's always been so intent on being the perfect daughter and impressing the old man that she can't understand why I don't feel the same way. I think he's an overcontrolling, self-centered stuffed shirt. But maybe she knows him better-after all, she grew up with him, I didn't.”

Filing that seemingly offhand comment away in the back of her mind, she prodded, “What's Tim like?”

“I can't say I know him all that well. He's always been involved in sports and clubs and fraternities so he was usually gone more than he was home when I was around. To all outward appearances, he's pretty much a clone of his father.”

His father. Another telling little slip. “Is your father a lawyer, too?”

“No. He owns a successful real estate firm. Spends more time at the office than with his family, but his motto is still Father Knows Best.”

Lucy didn't think he was quite ready to talk directly about his parents or stepparents, so she focused on the slightly less sensitive, but still revealing, subject of his siblings. “Tell me about your other sisters. Your mother's daughters.”

“I know them a little better, since I spent more time with them growing up, but we're not particularly close, either. Eileen's a dental hygienist married to a dentist, and they have a son they call Sammy, after my stepfather, Sam Osborne. Jenny's a full-time homemaker and aspiring children's book writer, married to a defense attorney.

They have a daughter and they're expecting twins. Jenny's heavily into liberal politics and community service, and it annoys her that I have no interest in either.”

Lucy tried to decide if she was imagining a hint of warmth in Banner's voice when he talked about his sisters. She decided after a moment that it was there, just masked. Despite his unemotional facade, Banner was fond of his siblings in his own way. She was convinced that it was primarily his feeling of not truly belonging to either nuclear family that kept him apart from them.

“They all sound nice.”

“I never said they weren't.”

“You just didn't want to spend Christmas with any of them.”

“I simply wasn't in the mood to deal with my parents' competitive games this year. Or to listen to my father's lectures about how I'm wasting my life, or my mother's criticism of my social life-or lack of one.”

For the first time it occurred to Lucy that maybe Banner had actually wanted to spend Christmas with family. That he had chosen to stay away more to avoid any potential conflict than because he really wanted to spend the holiday alone. He would rather spend the holiday by himself than cause more trouble in the families he had spent his life shuttling between.

Looking uncomfortable again, he cleared his throat, glanced at the television, then reached for the remote. “I don't suppose you're interested in college football.”

“Are you kidding? I've followed the games all season. I love watching the bowl games.”

His hand stilled. “Yeah? Who are your favorite teams?”

“Lots of them. But I do have a soft spot for the Georgia Bulldogs and the Florida State Seminoles, since I attended both those universities while I pursued my degrees. Who are your favorites?”

“Since I never went to any college-much less two of them-I have no loyalty to any one particular school. I just like the game.”

Once again the difference in their educational backgrounds seemed to be bothering him. Because she didn't want him dwelling on that again, she snuggled closer to him and said, “Which team's the underdog in this game? I'll cheer for them with you.”

They had their dessert and coffee at half time.

“Good cake,” Banner said, seeming to savor each bite.

“Thanks. It's my aunt's recipe.”

He insisted on carrying the used dishes and coffee cups back into the kitchen, since he had to let the dog out, anyway. She heard the water running and the dishes rattling as he cleaned and put them away.

She was getting to know him a little at a time-mere glimpses into his life, she mused, thinking of his friend's visit earlier. Still, they were moving forward, if only in tiny steps. And she hadn't learned anything yet that made her less interested in him.

She was smiling in welcome when he came back into the room. Something about her expression must have caught him off guard. He paused just inside the doorway, his gaze locked on her mouth. She felt her smile fading as a ripple of response ran through her, leaving a shivery longing behind.

Lifting his gaze to lock with hers, he moved toward her. As if pulled by an invisible string, she rose to meet him. His arms opened, and she stepped into them, tilting her face upward. He kissed her with a hunger that was every bit as intense as it had been before they had made love.

After what seemed like a long time, he broke off the kiss. Laying his cheek against the top of her head, he muttered something she didn't quite catch, though she thought she heard the words, “too much.”

Lucy wasn't sure what he was referring to, but as far as she was concerned there hadn't nearly been enough between them yet. She drew his mouth back down to hers.

By the time this kiss ended, they were moving toward the bedroom. She couldn't have said which one of them took the first step in that direction, but the decision to head that way was obviously mutual.

It occurred to her as they entered the oak-furnished, earth-toned bedroom that she still tended to think of it as the Carters' room. There was so little of Banner's personality displayed that it could have been anyone's bedroom.

Thoughts of decor fled her mind when Banner paused beside the bed and turned to look at her. He seemed to be trying to think of something to say. To save him the trouble, she wrapped her arms around him and lifted her face to his for another kiss. She had decided that he communicated quite well without words.

Lowering her to the bed, he proceeded to demonstrate just how right she was.

“Banner?”

He had been lying on his back in the deepening darkness for some time, not quite asleep, but not fully awake, either. Lucy lay beside him, her curly head snuggled into his shoulder, her warm body draped bonelessly against his. As much as he had enjoyed the sated, companionable silence, he had known it was only a matter of time before Lucy would be compelled to speak.

Though making conversation wasn't his strong suit, he didn't mind so much with Lucy. Never knowing what she was going to say next made things much more interesting, to say the least, than his usual stilted exchanges with others. And because he felt as if she would never judge him for being less than eloquent or lose patience with him for his lack of tact and polish, he was more comfortable talking to her than to most people.

In some ways she reminded him of Polston, who had become his friend precisely because Polston was one of the least judgmental and most laid-back people Banner had ever met. In other very significant ways, of course, Lucy was very different from Polston. More educated, more ambitious, more gregarious-and a hell of a lot more attractive, he thought with a faint smile.

“What?” he asked without looking down at her.

“How many questions do I have left?”

Her game again. “You've asked so many that I've lost count. Let's say you have five left.”

“Not many,” she said, and she sounded as if she spoke through a pout.

His lazy smile deepened. “Better make them count.”

“Okay, where do you see yourself in ten years, when you're forty?”

His smile disappeared. Trust Lucy to verbalize a question that had been nagging at the back of his mind for some time now. “I'll probably be right here, making furniture and watching my hair turn gray.”

“Alone?”

He shrugged the shoulder she wasn't lying on. “Hulk could still be around in ten years. He'd be pretty old, but probably no lazier or more useless than he is now.”

After a pause Lucy said, “Is that what you really want from your future?”

It was what he expected, not necessarily what he wanted. Based on the choices he had made before now, he imagined his life would change very little in the next decade-even if having met Lucy made everything look different for the moment. As impetuous and free-spirited as Lucy was, he doubted that she would stay around for the next ten days, much less a full ten years.

He had missed her after she'd left on Christmas Day. He could only imagine how empty he would feel the next time she went away.

Which meant, he decided as he rolled to face her, that he shouldn't waste any of the time he had with her. “I don't want to talk about the future right now,” he said.

“Oh?” Her hands slid up his forearms. “What do you want to talk about?”

He spoke against her lips. “I don't want to talk at all.”

Tangling her legs with his, she murmured, “That works for me.”