Those Christmas Angels (Angels Everywhere #5)(44)

Rejecting caution, Roy poured himself a third. He needed something to fortify him if he was going to battle temptation. And Julie tempted him, all right. It wasn’t easy to admit that, since Roy was a man who enjoyed being in control. And yet all through dinner—the chicken-and-mushroom dish, new potatoes and sautéed spinach—it wasn’t the food so expertly prepared or even their conversation that engaged him. No, what was foremost in Roy’s mind was the desire he felt for Julie. This weakness distressed him and yet…he hadn’t felt so alive in years.

“Dessert?” Julie asked.

The question startled Roy and he suddenly realized she’d carried the dinner plates into the kitchen and returned with two dessert plates. Cheesecake, if he recalled correctly.

“No.” For emphasis he shook his head. “On second thought…” He caught her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap.

She set the plates on the table, her face near his. Her eyes, dark and intense, were wide and so very expressive. They told him she wanted to kiss him again. Her throat was flushed, her skin warm. If her feelings were this easy to decipher, he could only imagine what she could read in his face.

“We’re supposed to be watching the ships, remember?” Her voice trembled.

“I know.”

She sighed and asked, “What’s happening to us?”

Roy knew, but he didn’t like the answer any more than he welcomed the question. “I don’t think we need to figure that out just yet.”

“My head’s spinning—and it doesn’t have anything to do with the wine.”

“Mine, too,” he told her. The alcohol was only partially responsible for the dizziness he was feeling.

“I…I saw a fish fly this afternoon,” she whispered. Her mouth was close to his ear.

Roy frowned, not understanding.

“It’s true,” she said, her voice still low. “I was at the Pike Place Market, and it seemed to leap off the crushed ice and fly of its own accord.”

“That isn’t possible,” Roy said impatiently. Either it was a trick of the eye or sleight of hand.

“That’s what I thought,” Julie told him. “Then it happened again and someone else saw it, too.”

“My guess is there’s a reason you’re telling me this.”

In response, she kissed the side of his neck. “The way I feel now is the same way I felt earlier when I saw that fish fly. I didn’t believe it, although I saw it with my own eyes. I felt a little ridiculous. And I wanted to deny it, pretend it hadn’t happened. Then, as I said, someone else confirmed what I’d seen and I realized I hadn’t imagined it, after all.”

“So…” Perhaps it was the scent of her perfume that clogged his brain. But for the life of him, Roy didn’t know what she was talking about or where this rather unusual story was taking him.

“I left quickly because I had to get away to think about it.”

Ah, Roy was beginning to understand, and his hold on her tightened. “You want to leave?”

“I should.”

“What if I asked you to stay?” Now he was the one kissing her, dropping light kisses along the side of her neck, hoping to lure her into spending the night. They were both adults who knew what they wanted, and he wasn’t interested in pretending otherwise.

Her answer was a long time in coming and held a pleading quality. “Don’t ask.”

“All right.” Difficult as it was, he relaxed his grip.

She stood up from his lap and Roy immediately missed the closeness. He got to his feet, ready to protest when she retrieved her coat from the closet.

“I don’t want you to go.”

She smiled, walked over to where he stood and kissed him on the mouth. “I don’t want to go, either.”

“Then stay.” He bit his tongue before he made the mistake of saying more. This decision had to be hers.

For just a moment, Roy thought he’d succeeded, but then he watched a renewed determination settle over her. “I can’t. I just saw a fish fly through the air.”

He didn’t know what it was about that stupid fish, but it appeared to have some significance for her.

“I can’t quite believe what’s happened,” she said, “but I’m afraid I’m falling in love with you.”

Love? Roy’s heart fell. That was the last thing he wanted to hear.

Seventeen

Julie stepped back from the freshly cut Christmas tree her father had grudgingly set up in a corner of the living room. This was probably the most difficult part of the Christmas season for him.

And for her.

Her mother had particularly loved their little tree-trimming ceremony. Just a year ago, the three of them had decorated the tree together. Andy Williams’s Christmas album had played in the background and the smell of popped corn had permeated the air.

“It’s perfect,” Julie announced.

Her father shrugged. “If you say so. I brought the decorations up from the basement.” He studied the tree, and Julie had the feeling that if she hadn’t made the effort this year, he’d be willing to forgo Christmas altogether.

“Did you find the Christmas CDs?” she asked.

“Nope.”

Julie suspected he hadn’t looked. They were no doubt packed away with the decorations.