CHRISTMAS IN WHITEHORN Read online

  "Let me know when you figure it out."

  "If I do." Mark rose. "See you tomorrow, boss."

  "Later," Rafe said, just as his phone rang.

  Mark returned to his office. There weren't that many people around – the week between Christmas and New Year's was traditionally slow. He plowed through pa- perwork until his eyes burned, then headed for home.

  The duplex was dark when he pulled up. Darcy had a rare dinner shift and wouldn't be home until later. He let himself into his place, only to stand in his empty living room and wish he could be next door with her. He wanted to curl up with her on her sofa, admiring her fat Christmas tree and eating something that she'd baked. He wanted to listen to her laughter, get lost in her conversation and try to talk himself out of making love with her.

  Despite the fact that he'd avoided her bed for the past week or so, he hadn't stopped wanting her. In fact he wanted her more than he ever had. But something had changed between them and until he figured out what it was, he planned on staying clear of the sensual playground that was making love with Darcy.

  He flicked on lights, then headed for the kitchen and grabbed a beer. Maybe he should have stopped at the Hip Hop for dinner. At least then he could have seen Darcy.

  He leaned against the counter and took a long drink. He was home now. Instead of heading back out, he'd wait for her to return. Knowing her, she would probably bring him leftovers. They'd eat them to- gether. Then—

  He paced restlessly. Then, what? He walked the length of his living room before returning to the dining room. He had too many questions and no answers. Darcy was an amazing woman. She'd managed to keep herself and her brother afloat financially for the past five years. He knew she worried about Dirk. While her brother would eventually be able to be on his own in the world, he would never be a hundred percent self-sufficient. Someone would always need to be nearby. That person was going to be Darcy.

  Whoever was in her life would be signing up for more than the usual responsibilities.

  Mark turned that thought over in his mind. Was the reality of her situation enough to scare him away, or did he think it wouldn't be such hard duty? He liked Dirk – the kid was a lot of fun. What would it be like when that kid was a forty-year-old man? What about if Dirk wanted to get married and have children?

  Mark waited for his gut to tell him to head for the hills. He didn't need that kind of trouble. And yet he knew the restlessness he felt inside had nothing to do with wanting to avoid Darcy and her situation. If anything he felt compelled to offer a strong shoulder. Shared burdens were always easier.

  He walked to the window and stared out at the lightly falling snow. At one time he would have reminded himself that he'd already been down this road and it was way too dangerous to tread. But he'd learned his lesson. Darcy wasn't Sylvia. She never had been. Darcy was the most honest, trustworthy person he knew.

  He'd made one really big mistake. Both he and Sylvia had paid for it. Maybe it was time to let the past go. The future was far more important. Darcy was more important.

  In his previous relationship, he'd felt a flash of emotion. Something hot and immediate had convinced him Sylvia was the one. He hadn't felt that with Darcy. Oh, there'd been plenty of sexual combustion, but his heart had been slower to engage.

  His feelings had grown slowly. Cautious liking, turning to respect and affection. And now…

  Now he didn't know. He cared about Darcy a lot. He wanted her in his life. Did that make his feelings real? Did he love her? Did he want forever?

  *

  Darcy arrived home with a bag full of leftovers and sore feet. She hadn't been scheduled to go in until two, but one of the waitresses had called in sick, so she'd been at the Hip Hop since eight that morning. A thirteen-hour shift wasn't her idea of a good time.

  As she pulled into her carport, she saw lights on in Mark's place and his silhouette in the front window. Before she'd done more than turn off the engine, he was at her door, opening it and pulling her into a hug.

  "I missed you," he said, then kissed her with an intensity that left her breathless.

  She responded, hoping that she could persuade him to take her to bed. She wasn't the least bit sleepy, but she could sure do with an hour or two of incredible lovemaking. But instead of taking the hint, he took a step back and inhaled.

  "Do I smell fried chicken?"

  "Absolutely. It was the special tonight. I brought mashed potatoes and green beans, too." She gave him a mock glare to cover her disappointment that once again he wasn't interested in physical intimacy.

  "I can't wait." He leaned over and grabbed the bags on the passenger seat, then closed the door and put his arm around her. They walked into her apartment.

  Twenty minutes later they'd eaten most of the chicken and potatoes. Darcy pushed the container of green beans toward Mark.

  "Two tablespoons' worth isn't a serving."

  "It is to me."

  "You'll get scurvy."

  "I take a multivitamin every morning."

  "Is this before or after you clog your arteries with your heart-attack-inducing breakfast?"

  "Before." He gave her a smile that showed no remorse. "I'm changing the subject. How was your day?"

  "Long. Janie called me in at eight because they were shorthanded. My feet hurt."

  "I'll bet. I didn't know you'd been there that long."

  "The good news is that I got overtime today. Janie felt so bad that I don't have to go in until ten, but she'll pay me for my usual time. So that will help." Darcy nibbled on a piece of chicken. "I really like my job. The people are good and the tips add up. But I hate working nights. I'm glad it's not my regular shift. Closing up a restaurant takes a lot of time. I'd much rather open."

  "Were you the last one there?"

  She nodded. "One of the busboys was supposed to stay and help me, but he had a hot date so I let him go early."

  "I think I've just been insulted," Mark told her.

  Darcy didn't get it. "How?"

  "You let that other guy go early because he had a hot date. What am I? Chopped liver?"

  She forced herself to smile because that's what he expected. Great joke. Life was a laugh a minute. But suddenly she felt like crying. Logic told her that she and Mark hadn't been together for very long. Neither of them was willing to define their relationship, so she didn't know if they were still friends or had moved on to something more. If she was the least bit brave, she would ask. The thing was – she didn't want to hear the answer. Not if it was bad.

  "You're completely hot," she said at last. "However, we're older and I figured we would have the patience to wait to see each other."

  She shifted in her seat. Everything hurt. Part of her wanted to ask Mark for a massage. However the thought of his hands on her body sent her thoughts in a direction that was far from medicinal. Besides, if he wasn't interested in her that way, she was hardly going to force things. Maybe he was getting tired of her. Maybe—

  She shook her head to clear it of all those negative thoughts. "I've been cooped up inside for too long," she said impulsively. "Do you want to take a drive? It's still snowing, but there are patches of clearing and the stars look amazing tonight."

  "Great idea. You bundle up and I'll go warm the truck cab."

  He helped her clear the table, then left. Darcy quickly changed into jeans and a warm sweater, then pulled on her parka. Mark had parked in front of her place and was waiting when she closed and locked her front door.

  "Where to?" he asked as she slid onto the bench seat.

  "It's your town. You pick."

  He grinned. "I know a great lookout place. We used to go park there in high school."

  "Is the view nice?"

  "Darcy, no one cares about the view."

  Was he suggesting something? She sucked in a breath. Lord, she hated being so conflicted about a man. "It sounds like fun," she said lightly.

  "I'll take you to the best spot," he promised.

  Th
e light snow slowed as more patches of sky were visible in the parting clouds. There was a hint of moon and dozens of stars. She huddled in her jacket, waiting for the truck's heater to warm the cab.

  "What are you doing for New Year's Eve?" he asked, speaking into the quiet.

  "Gee, I usually have a party in Paris for a couple dozen of my closest friends. We fly over in a chartered jet and ring in the New Year with caviar and champagne."

  He glanced at her. "Really? Have you ever tasted caviar? I did once. It's really salty."

  "Mark!"

  "Okay. So you don't have plans. Want to do something with me?"

  "Yes."

  She pressed her lips together. There was so much more she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that he'd become very important to her. She wanted to ask him why he'd stopped making love with her and did he know that it was slowly killing her inside. She wanted to admit that she loved him and find out if there was a chance that he might have feelings for her as well. If he wasn't completely over Sylvia, she would wait – as long as there was a chance for them.

  But she didn't say the words. For one thing, she didn't know his feelings about Dirk. Liking her brother was one thing – being willing to get involved with someone responsible for Dirk was another. Her second reason for hesitating was that she thought he would more comfortable if he made the first move. Wasn't that how guys liked it?

  If only she'd had more experience. But Mark was the first guy she'd been involved with since her folks had passed away. Her relationships in college had been so incredibly shallow that she had no way to compare them to what was currently going on in her life.

  By the time they reached the overlook, the sky had nearly cleared. Mark put the truck in park but left the motor running. Heat poured out of the vents, warming her feet and legs.

  "You're looking serious about something," he said, angling toward her.

  "I'm just thinking."

  "Does it hurt?"

  She glared at him. "I'm very intelligent. Your inability to figure that out reflects badly on you, not me."

  "Oh, aren't we snippy?" He grinned. "Ac- tually I figured out that you're pretty smart. I'm smart, too."

  "Really? I hadn't noticed." She pretended great interest in what was outside the passenger window.

  Suddenly she felt his hand under her coat. He bee-lined for her side, where he started tickling her. Mark had unfastened his seat belt, but she was still trapped in hers. She squirmed but couldn't get away from his questing fingers. She shrieked and laughed.

  "Stop!" she gasped.

  "I have you in my clutches now," he said with mock importance. "I will tickle you into submission."

  She pushed his hands away. Without warning, he stopped. His expression softened as he stroked her cheek.

  "I didn't expect you to show up," he told her. "I came home to lick my wounds and figure out what I was going to do with my life. Suddenly you were in my face, arguing with me about what I ordered for breakfast and trying to save the world."

  She felt herself getting lost in his green eyes. Her heart seemed to be beating very fast as anticipation swept through her. Mark was looking at her as if she were very precious to him. As if she mattered.

  "I've never met anyone like you," he ad- mitted. "After Sylvia, I swore I'd never get burned by a woman again. I didn't want to trust anyone or get involved. But you're easy to trust. You're a good person and there aren't that many of those around."

  "I'm not that good," she said. "And there are a lot of really terrific people. You just have to look to find them."

  "I forgot to mention that you like to argue with me."

  "I do not." She winced. "Okay, that might prove your point, but I don't think I argue."

  "Uh-huh."

  He moved closer, his mouth hovering inches from hers. "You confuse the hell out of me, Darcy."

  "Ditto. I don't know if I'm coming or going around you."

  "Which do you want it to be?"

  Before she could answer, his arms came around her. He drew her close and kissed her.

  The familiar warmth, the heat, the passion all combined to sweep her away. Need poured through her. Need and a sense of being where she belonged. With Mark—

  A sharp sound cut through the night. Sirens. Mark straightened and glanced out the windshield. From their place above the city they could see several fire trucks racing across town.

  "It's the whole fire crew," Mark said. "I wonder what's burning." He reached for the parking brake, then glanced back at her. "I'm sorry. I know this is a mood breaker. But there have been some strange occurrences in town lately and this fire may be related. Do you mind if we check it out?"

  She shook her head. Mark had gone into cop mode. There was no point in protesting his actions. Even if she convinced him to stay here, she wouldn't have his attention. The sooner they found out about the fire, the sooner they could be back in each other's arms. At least that was her fantasy.

  They followed the sounds of the sirens. Eventually they were able to see the flames reaching up toward the sky. Darcy glanced around to get her bearings. Her stomach tightened as she recognized the street and the neighborhood. An awful feeling took root inside and began to grow. Mark pulled up behind the last fire truck and got out. She climbed down after him and stared at the eerie nightmare dancing toward the stars.

  Horror swept over her as she watched angry fire destroy the Hip Hop Café. They stood well away from the engulfed building, but even from this distance the heat was nearly overwhelming. With each breath, she inhaled the scent of destruction – as the café was reduced to nothing.

  The sound surprised her the most. The fire roared as it consumed. Walls creaked and groaned, beams snapped, steam from the water hissed. The ceiling crashed onto the floor.

  Darcy couldn't believe what was happening. Two hours ago the Hip Hop had been right where it was supposed to be and now it was disappearing before her eyes. People gathered around them, some talking quietly, others caught up in the awesome power of the flames.

  Darcy wasn't sure how long she watched. Gradually the fire grew smaller. The smoke changed from dark to light as the firefighters won their battle. Eventually there was nothing left but a pile of steaming rubble.

  It was only then that Darcy realized what she'd lost. Not just her baking contract, but her job. Every source of income had just gone up in flames. Tears burned in her eyes. She turned to Mark to speak with him, only to find him in conversation with the sheriff and someone from the fire department.

  "I'll find out," he was saying. He glanced at her. "Darcy, were you the last person in the building?" He asked the question casually, as if inquiring about the weather. Yet it only took a second for the meaning of his words to sink into her brain. She'd closed the restaurant. This could all be her fault!

  She grabbed his coat sleeve. "Mark. I know I turned everything off. The stove, the lights. All of it. There's a checklist for closing up. I don't do it very often, so I was working from the list, not from memory."

  "I know. It's all right."

  She wanted to believe him, but there was something scary in his eyes. A distance.

  He put his arm around her and drew her closer. Not to comfort her, she realized, but so that she could speak directly to the sheriff and fire chief.

  "Tell them what happened," he said.

  Darcy outlined her last hour in the restaurant. She detailed as much of what she'd done to close up as possible. Her shaking voice made the telling a little difficult, but both men were patient. They asked her a few questions, only to be interrupted by the arrival of Melissa North, the owner of the Hip Hop Café, and a firefighter carrying a charred gas can in his hand.

  "It was in the alley," he said, handing it to the fire chief. "Right by the back door."

  Darcy's head began to spin. Melissa gave a cry of alarm. "I don't understand," she said.

  "Neither do we," the sheriff told her. "But we're going to get to the bottom of this."

 
; He and the fire chief moved a short distance away. Darcy couldn't hear what they were saying. She turned and saw that Mark had disappeared into the milling crowd. She felt very alone.

  "I'm really sorry," she forced herself to say. Her lips felt thick and it was difficult to speak. "I swear, Melissa, I didn't do anything to start this fire."

  Her boss brushed away tears. "I believe you. If they've found a gas can, then it's unlikely the fire was started by an electrical short or a burner left on. I guess—" She gave a soft cry. "I guess I'm going to have to remodel after all."

  A tall man appeared and put his arms around Melissa. Darcy recognized her husband, Wyatt North. He led his wife away. Darcy noticed that everyone else seemed to have a friend or loved one to lean on. Only she stood by herself.

  "Ma'am, we're going to have to speak with you again."

  Darcy turned and saw the fire chief. "I don't understand. About what?"

  "The fire. We'll want to go over what you remember."

  "But the gas can. Isn't that how it started?"

  "It's too soon for us to know." He gave her a slight smile. "No one is accusing you of anything. However, we will ask you not to leave town in the next couple of days. We have a lot of information to collect."

  Darcy nodded because she couldn't speak. She could barely breathe. She had no job, no baking contract, no income at all and now she was being told not to leave Whitehorn?

  "How you doing?"

  She turned and saw Mark. Relief swept through her. Thank God, he was still here. She reached for him, needing to feel his arms around her, offering comfort. Instead, he pressed keys into her hand.

  "I've got to get into the sheriff's Office," he said absently, not even looking at her. "Take the truck and head home. I don't know when I'll be able to leave work, but I'll have someone drive me home when I can get away."

  He gave her a quick, meaningless smile and disappeared into the milling crowd. Darcy was left standing alone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sheriff Rafe Rawlings arrived at Darcy's place just before nine the next morning. "Just a few simple questions," he said po- litely as she slipped into the front seat of his car.