Millie Criswell, Mary McBride, Liz Ireland Read online

  He smiled enigmatically, placing the platters of food she handed him on the table before pulling out her chair. “Do I? I was just thinking about something interesting, something I want to do.” He shifted in his chair, hoping she didn’t see how his thinking of her had aroused him.

  “Care to share?” She passed him the platter of pancakes and watched as he forked five onto his plate. It was said that a man who possessed a healthy appetite for food usually had a healthy appetite for— “Syrup?” she asked quickly, brushing loose strands of hair away from her face and taking a deep breath.

  What on earth was the matter with her? She’d never reacted so strongly to a man before. Even Daniel had never made her heart flutter so madly. So why then did Gabriel Tyler have this strange effect on her?

  “These are mighty good pancakes, Eve. Guess you know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  “I—I’ve heard that saying, of course. My mama used to say the very same thing, which is why she wanted me to learn how to cook.”

  “Well, she did right by you,” he said, changing the subject as he reached for another piece of bacon. “You got anything particular planned for today?”

  Sipping her coffee, she took a moment to answer. “I need to go to the grocer to buy staples. I make cookies for the church this time every year. The children who perform in the annual Christmas pageant look forward to them, and I don’t want them to be disappointed.” Eve adored children and regretted that she didn’t have any of her own. A child could take up a lot of space in a woman’s heart.

  “You’re not talking about making Christmas cookies, are you?” he asked, his expression as eager as a ten-year-old boy’s. “Because if you are, I’ll haul you over to the grocer on my back, if need be, so you can buy whatever it is you need. I’ll even pay. I’ve got a real hankering when it comes to Christmas cookies.” One of the things he missed most about being estranged from his family was not being able to share in the traditions of the holiday season, like his younger sisters baking cookies.

  Her eyes widened then, noting his smile, she responded with one of her own. “I’ve got boots and a warm coat, and it’s not that far to the grocer’s, providing Willis is open.” She was sure he was. Willis Adams prided himself on the fact that his store was open 364 days a year, Christmas being the only day he closed, mostly due to Mrs. Adams’s insistence. He had a sign in his store window declaring it, so she doubted a little snow was going to prevent him from turning a tidy profit.

  “Maybe after we’re done buying the groceries, we can go out in the front yard and put up a snowman. I haven’t made one in years.”

  Her jaw unhinged before she snapped it shut. “A snowman! You’re not serious?” But she could see by his boyish expression that he was.

  “Sure am. Didn’t you used to make them as a kid? My brother and I had contests to see who could make the very best one. Beth and Susan acted as judges, and the snowman that won was rewarded with a whole plate of cookies. Of course, / ate the cookies, not the snowman.”

  “Well, yes, I have, but—”

  “Good. Then it’s all settled.”

  “My hands feel like two icicles,” Eve said, scooping up another ball of the frozen snow and adding it to the pile in front of her. “I don’t know how I let you talk me into making a snowman. It’s a very impractical way to spend an afternoon. And I still have dozens of cookies to bake.” Oh, but she was having so much fun. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time she had enjoyed herself as much, and she had Gabe to thank for it.

  Despite the heartache and misfortune Gabriel Tyler had been dealt, the man had a zest for life, making the most of every moment “Life’s too short not to enjoy yourself,” he had told her on the way back from the grocer’s.

  Gabe rushed to Eve’s side, grasping her hands and pulling off her gloves. “What are you doing?” she protested, trying to pull her hands free.

  “Let me see your hands. I don’t want you getting frostbite.” Before she could protest, he took her icy hands and brought them to his mouth, blowing his hot breath onto them. Eve began to tingle all the way down to her toes, and she fought the urge to pull back. The act seemed far too intimate for total strangers, but oh, it was delicious. It had been a long time since a man had paid this much attention to her. Daniel had not been the demonstrative type.

  “There,” he said, rubbing her hands between his own until he was satisfied she was warm. “Is that better?” His eyes filled with concern. “If you’re really too cold, we can go inside. Maybe what you need is a hot bath.”

  The image of them in the tub together suddenly flashed through Eve’s mind, making her entire body suffuse with heat. She shook her head to rid herself of the provocative thought. “No! I’m fine. Besides, I think my snowman is going to be better than yours, and I want the chance to prove it.” And she needed the diversion desperately.

  He laughed and flicked the end of her nose. “No way. There are cookies at stake, woman, and I’m determined to win.”

  “Well, your balls are a bit lopsided.”

  He jerked his head around to see what she was staring at, looked down at his crotch and then, deciding she was talking about the snowman and not him, chuckled. “I’m not done yet, so don’t start getting smug on me. I’m not a man who likes to lose.”

  “Well, then I think you’ve met your match, Mr. Tyler,” Eve retorted with a grin.

  They worked for twenty more minutes on their respective snowmen. Eve draped an old shawl around her snowman’s shoulders, deciding to turn it into a snow woman instead. She was tempted to give her snow woman breasts, just to see Gabe’s reaction, but she thought it too unseemly. She didn’t have the courage to be so daring, but sometimes, like now, she wished she had.

  Gabe stared at both sculptures and shook his head. “Darned if I know who won. Both look pretty good to me.” His snowman wore a black bowler hat and an old pinstriped wool vest that Eve had procured from the attic, and that had once belonged to her father.

  Wrapping her arms about herself, joyful in the moment, she smiled happily. “I declare the contest to be a tie. We both shall have cookies, and lots of them. I may even throw in a glass of milk for good measure.”

  “Hot damn!” Suddenly without warning, Gabe scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her startled shriek, and continued trudging toward the front door.

  “Put me down this instant, Gabriel Tyler! Have you lost whatever sense you were born with? Someone might see us.” She looked about to see if anyone had noticed his outrageous behavior. “I am a decent woman with a good reputation, and I won’t be made the laughingstock of—”

  “So what if they see? I’m just being a gentleman by carrying a lady in distress to her front door. I imagine your toes are about frozen by now. And if anyone does dare to say anything, I’ll punch them in the mouth. How’s that?”

  He lost his footing and lunged to one knee, and Eve wrapped her arms about his neck to keep from falling. His eyes met hers, and for a moment neither spoke, then she cleared her throat and the spell was broken.

  “Thank you. But I think you have ulterior motives in wanting to get me into the house.”

  Surprised by the accuracy of her comment, Gabe wondered rather guiltily if they were thinking along the same lines, though he rather doubted it. “Do I now? And what would those motives be?” Surely she didn’t have an inkling of how much he wanted to carry her upstairs to his bed and make passionate love to her for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

  “Cookies. You want me to start baking for you, don’t you?”

  He set her down on the porch, the lump forming in his throat very unfamiliar. “You saw clean through me,” he replied. “Cookies are utmost on my mind.”

  Chapter Five

  Two days later, eve glanced out the front parlor window to see if the snowfall had abated, and was surprised to find Florinda Cooper trudging up the snow-covered walk.

  What on earth was the woman doing out on such a dreadfu
l morning? she wondered, hurrying to the door to find out, all the while hoping no one she knew had died.

  She pulled open the door just as the woman was about to knock, admitting a blast of frigid air, which fairly took her breath away. “Florinda!” Eve smiled through her puzzlement, noting how red the woman’s cheeks were. “You must be frozen. I’m surprised to see you out and about on such a nasty day.” The snow was still falling at a rapid rate, and the dark clouds, heavy with moisture, promised no end in sight. “Come in.”

  “You know we postal clerks are a hearty lot,” the postmistress said good-naturedly, stomping her feet to clear the snow off her boots before stepping across the threshold into the foyer. A puddle of water formed at her feet, anyway. “I’ve got a letter here for your boarder, Mr. Tyler. It’s got a Boston postmark, so I figured, based on what’s being said about him around town, that it’s from his family.” She reached inside her heavy jacket and produced an envelope.

  “Would you like some hot coffee? You must be chilled to the bone. Mr. Tyler isn’t up yet—” which was odd in itself “—but I’ll be sure to give this to him as soon as he awakens.” She placed the envelope in her apron pocket for safekeeping, wondering if it contained news of his ex-wife and child. The notion filled her with unease, for she knew it would mean Gabe would be leaving sooner than either one of them expected. Placing her hand over her heart, she covered the sudden dull ache.

  “Late sleeper, is he? My husband George used to lounge in bed, especially on a cold morning. It took a lot of hot coffee and a swift kick in the behind to get that man going in the morning.” Eve began to shut the door, but the older woman shook her head.

  “Can’t stay, Eve, but I thank you for the invite. I’ve got lots more letters to deliver before this miserable day is said and done. The Christmas holiday always brings out the correspondence in people. You’d think they could spread their writing out during other times of the year, instead of trying to get it all in at once.”

  Florinda’s comment reminded Eve that she hadn’t answered her aging relatives’ last missive. Her New York cousins, Bitsy and Tootie Malloy, would worry if they didn’t hear from her soon. And even though she’d explained numerous times to the cantankerous old spinsters that she didn’t have the time to correspond over the holidays, they continued to write, making it clear that they expected an answer, Christmas or no Christmas.

  “You be sure to come back when you’ve got more time and we can visit,” she told her friend. “I made cookies for the church, but I always keep some back for company. I’ll be happy to share them with you.”

  The older woman smiled gratefully. “Will do, honey. You stay warm, you hear? Now you’d best go and kick that handsome man of yours outta bed before he gets a good case of laziness and you can’t cure him of it.”

  Cheeks filling with color, Eve stiffened. “Mr. Tyler is not my man, Florinda. You shouldn’t say such a thing. I wouldn’t want anyone, including you, to get the wrong idea.”

  “A woman my age can say just about anything she pleases,” she replied with a chuckle. “And I can hope, can’t I, that some Christmas miracle will happen and you’ll find someone to love, someone who will love you back?”

  Eve made a face of displeasure. “There’s no such thing as a Christmas miracle.” Or love, for that matter, she was certain, based on experience. “Thanks for the thought, but Mr. Tyler will be moving on as soon as the weather breaks.” Her heart squeezed again.

  Reaching out, the older woman patted her hand, and the leather from her glove felt rough against Eve’s skin. “I’m a firm believer in the powers of the Almighty. You may not have experienced it, due to all the tragedy you’ve seen in your short lifetime, honey, but I’m living proof that the good Lord works in mysterious ways.”

  Eyes widening in disbelief, the younger woman shook her head. “How can you say that, after losing your husband of forty years?”

  “Yes, I lost my darling George, and a dearer man has never lived. But I gained me a job outta his unfortunate demise, and I’m feeling useful for the first time in years. At least some good’s come out of it.”

  “But—”

  “It’s hell getting old, and having people trying to put you out to pasture before you’re ready to go, hon. I didn’t want George to die, but I ain’t looking a gift horse in the mouth, either. You gotta take what life throws at you and go with it, or else you may as well curl up and die yourself. And I ain’t ready to do that. And neither are you.”

  Watching the woman disappear down the walk, Eve was perplexed by Florinda’s unusual way of looking at things. People coped with tragedy in their own way, she guessed. Or they didn’t cope at all.

  Taking the envelope out of her apron pocket and noting the return address indicated Zachary Tyler, Gabe’s brother, she knew he would want to read the correspondence as quickly as possibly.

  Wondering why he hadn’t yet come out of his room this morning—she had peeked at his door three different times to find it closed—she hurried up the stairs, hoping to be the bearer of good news.

  Outside his room, she paused, biting her lower lip in uncertainty. Should she knock? Should she disturb him and possibly wake him from a sound sleep? He may have read late into the night, or perhaps had a bout of insomnia and was trying to catch up on his rest.

  And what if he thought she had some ulterior motive in coming to his room? Men tended to think along those lines.

  Indecision gnawed at her for several more moments. She finally decided that, if the shoe were on the other foot and it had been her letter he was delivering, she would want to be informed at once. She knocked three times in rapid succession. When there was no answer, she knocked again, puzzled by the continuing silence.

  She knew full well that Gabe hadn’t left the house this morning. She’d spent a good portion of the early morning hours looking out the parlor window, daydreaming about…him.

  Eve knocked again, harder this time, then pressed her ear against the door, but there was still no answer. It was then she heard the low moan. And then again. Alarmed that something might be terribly wrong, she opened the door a crack and peered in to find Gabe still lying in bed.

  The sheets were twisted around the lower half of his body, and he was moaning and thrashing about, as if he was in the throes of a nightmare, or in great physical pain.

  “Gabe? Gabe, is everything all right?” she called out from the doorway, not sure if she should enter. He answered with a low moan.

  Tiptoeing in, until she was standing right next to the bed, Eve looked down and drew in a breath. Gabe was naked from the waist up, and the knowledge that he was probably just as naked from the waist down brought a large lump to her throat, as well as some lascivious thoughts that were totally inappropriate, especially considering the circumstances.

  Now is hardly the time for such improper thoughts, Eve Barlow!

  The man was bathed in sweat, his face blotched red, and his eyes were shut tight against whatever ailment had him in its grip. Unable to stand by and see anyone suffer, she reached out a tentative hand to touch his forehead and found he was burning up with fever.

  “Oh, Gabe,” she whispered, wishing old Doc Stevens hadn’t died last month of a heart seizure. Cedar Springs had yet to replace him, and they had no doctor to call upon in an emergency.

  Rushing into the bathing room, she filled an enamel basin with cool water, grabbed a washcloth and some towels off the washstand, and returned to his bedside.

  She would nurse him back to health herself, Eve decided. She wouldn’t allow Gabe to fall victim to that wretched Christmas curse that continued to plague her.

  Fortunately, she had a copy of Dr. Chase’s Recipes, which covered a variety of medical conditions, including fevers. She would consult it to figure out the best course of treatment to take. And she would do everything in her power to make sure Gabriel Tyler lived to see another Christmas.

  Seating herself on the bed next to him, she refused to think about the im
propriety of the situation, running the cool cloth over his chest and down his arms. He moaned, and his lips moved slightly, as if he was trying to say something. Leaning over him, she moistened his lips with the damp cloth. Suddenly he grabbed her, pulling her down to his mouth, and her heart started pounding in her ears.

  “I’ll never forgive you, you faithless bitch, for stealing my son from me. I hope you rot in hell.”

  She was alarmed at first, until she realized he was delirious and talking about his ex-wife. Threading her fingers through his dark hair, she spoke soothingly to him. “Shh. Don’t try to talk. You’re sick, Gabe, but I’m going to help you get well.” Her words seemed to calm him, for his rigid body soon relaxed, and he fell into a more peaceful sleep.

  Eve had never been intimate with a man, though Daniel Stedmon had done his best to seduce her. She’d often wondered if her refusal to consummate their relationship before marriage was the reason he’d dumped her at the altar and taken off for parts unknown. But then she’d heard rumors that he’d had another woman. She was glad now that she’d stuck by her guns and refused the bounder.

  Eyeing the hair on Gabe’s chest, Eve’s heartbeat quickened. She couldn’t resist reaching out to touch him, marveling at how soft the hairs felt beneath her fingers. Then she explored him more fully, caressing the firm pectoral muscles, his bulging biceps, trailing her finger up his arm to touch his lips, which were incredibly soft.

  What would it be like to kiss him? she wondered, wishing she had the courage to find out.

  He moaned, and she pulled back quickly, chastising herself for her unseemly behavior and renewing her ministrations to help break his fever.

  Gabe awoke the following morning to find Eve sprawled across his chest, fast asleep. Her breathing was deep and even, each breath she exhaled tickling his flesh, making him more aware than ever that he wanted her in the worst way.

  He thought he’d been dreaming those soft caresses last night, but he knew now they’d been all too real. Her left hand was positioned dangerously close to his groin, and he didn’t dare move or she would get quite a surprise when she awakened. He was as stiff as the icicle hanging outside the bedroom window, but he sure as hell wasn’t as cold.