I'll Be Home for Christmas Page 10

  His pulse beat against her lips, rhythmic and steady. She’d just count the pounding of his heart until help arrived. Then she’d be whisked away and would never have to be alone with him again.

  But a rescue team wouldn’t get anywhere close to them until after the storm. And she had no idea how long that would be.

  Her feet were still so numb she couldn’t feel them.

  “Adelaide?”

  She didn’t move. “What?”

  “You’re not falling asleep, are you?”

  “Of course not.” But she didn’t see how she could avoid it. She didn’t have the strength to lift her eyelids.

  Four

  “Hey.” Maxim spoke into Adelaide’s hair, next to her ear, but she didn’t move. “You still with me?” he said, more loudly.

  When her head lolled on his arm, he grew alarmed enough to shake her. “What are you doing? Wake up!”

  No answer.

  With a curse, he leaned on his elbow. A moment before, he’d caught his own mind wandering, blanking out as if preparing for sleep. It’d happened so fast he almost wondered if he was the one who’d slipped away and was now hallucinating. “Listen, we’re not...giving up, okay?”

  She mumbled a few words. They weren’t coherent, but at least they proved she was alive.

  Thank God!

  Closing his eyes, he let go of the breath he’d been holding. “If they find us...like this...they might...take a picture and...and put it on the front page of The Bee. Can you...imagine the caption?”

  He hoped his comment would cause a reaction, and it did. “They’d better not!”

  “They could. We have to remain conscious, make sure they don’t.”

  “We’ll...be...conscious.”

  Not if they didn’t do something to stay awake. Less than sixty seconds later, he felt the tension seep out of her body.

  “Adelaide, come on.” Come on what? Where was he going with this thought? It took a moment, but at last he remembered. “We have to...to keep dalking.”

  “Keep...what?”

  He was having trouble enunciating. He had to capture each word, chase it around in his head, then drag it to his mouth.

  “T-talking.” There, he’d said it. But the effort was wasted. His warning brought no response.

  “Adelaide, fight...please.” The sexual desire he’d felt earlier was completely gone. Now he wished for that spike of testosterone, for the flare of physical strength it had given him. In its place sat a hard knot of dread, but it was muted like everything else seemed to be. It certainly wasn’t enough to overcome the sluggishness bogging him down. And with the storm still raging, they had a long wait ahead.

  “Shall...we sing...some Christmas carol?”

  No answer.

  “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way—” He stopped. That was all he could remember, which was ridiculous. He wasn’t any kind of Scrooge. He liked Christmas. But apparently he hadn’t paid much attention to the lyrics of even the more popular songs in quite some time. Probably because he didn’t usually sing, didn’t have what he would consider a voice. So he settled for something more repetitive and less vocally demanding. “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer, take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall.”

  His words ran together as if he was drunk. He tried to sing more clearly, hoping Adelaide would join in, but she didn’t. Only the flutter of her heartbeat, which he could feel when he pressed his lips to her throat, gave him hope—until that heartbeat became erratic, weak.

  Feeling her heart wind down finally triggered the release of some much-needed adrenaline. Suddenly, he could think. Almost as important, he had the energy to move.

  “Adelaide?” He kissed her throat, her jawline, her cold lips. “Hey, you’re naked...with...the enemy.”

  Forgetting the scruples that had kept him circumspect and discreet, he unfastened her bra and slid his hand up to cup her breast. He didn’t care about right and wrong anymore. He cared only about saving her life. To do that, he needed to rouse her to some level of awareness. “Can you feel me touching you?”

  She moved, which encouraged him.

  “Do you like it?” Parting her lips with his tongue, he kissed her while his fingers sought the more sensitive parts of her body. He wasn’t having fun. He was too frightened. But he was putting everything he had into trying to interest her—or at least anger her. As far as he was concerned, either reaction would work. He simply needed to evoke an emotional response. Even a small rush of adrenaline could keep her lucid.

  “Mark?”

  He went still. She was out of it, all right. She thought he was her late husband.

  He opened his mouth to correct her. But he feared despair would set in if he did. She was trapped on the side of a mountain, in the middle of a terrible blizzard, with little chance of survival. With him, a man she hated. But only when she knew who he was.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” He cringed at the lie but didn’t regret telling it when it worked better than he would’ve guessed. For the first time since the crash, he sensed some fight, some real strength in Adelaide. She was weeping now, but she clung to him, kissing him so passionately he began to experience a flicker of the desire that had crashed over him when he’d first encountered her barely clad body.

  God, what am I doing?

  He was saving her life, he told himself and, at her urging, slid his hand down her flat stomach to take off her panty hose.

  * * *

  It wasn’t Mark, and Adelaide knew it. But that didn’t mean she had to accept it.

  Shutting out the reality, she concentrated on Maxim’s mouth, his muscular chest, the thickness of his hair—and told herself it was the husband she’d lost. Sure, his kiss seemed a little different than she remembered, but it was so good she didn’t mind. He showed more emotion, and the groan that rumbled from deep in his throat let her know he wanted her. The way he handled himself—handled her—was slightly more commanding. She liked it better. Because it’s been so long.

  “I love you,” she whispered through tears she couldn’t seem to suppress.

  He stopped moving. She imagined him staring down at her, even though neither of them could see. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “Adelaide—”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. She didn’t want him to ruin it. She had her husband with her. That was all that mattered. Maybe he’d disappear in a few minutes, leave her as alone as she’d been before. But at least she’d have this final memory—a better parting than the one she’d agonized over for so long—to carry her through whatever came next.

  “Tell me you love me,” she whispered, craving those words more than any others.

  He hesitated.

  “Mark?”

  “You know it’s true.” Although he’d spoken a little too gruffly to make it entirely believable, there was no mistaking the sincerity in the words that followed. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, Adelaide Fairfax.”

  She chose to focus on that instead. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.... Wrapping her fingers around the proof of his arousal, she couldn’t help smiling at his sudden intake of breath. The passion that had begun to wane in their marriage was back. Her doubts, her insecurities, they were stupid. Wasted energy, just as he’d always said. “Feels like you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready. But—”

  “Shh.” She regretted ever breaking the silence. She’d only wanted to clear the air between them, hated that he’d died before she could apologize for the accusations that had sent him storming from their home. “Just make love to me. Tell me I’m all you ever wanted. Tell me that never changed.”

  “You’re taking my very soul,”
he murmured.

  “Don’t fight it.” She meant that teasingly, but he seemed to take her response at face value. His hands and mouth found her again, drawing a greedy response from every single nerve—until she was so sensitized she quivered at his lightest touch. She wanted to be with him completely, craved the old sense of connection they’d known when they were first married. But he resisted her attempts to take their lovemaking that final step.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, confused by his hesitancy. “I want to feel you inside me. One more time.”

  “Adelaide, I can’t. I’m not Mark. You know that, don’t you? I’m—”

  “Shh!” Couldn’t he take what she was willing to give him and spare her the harsh reality? It was her last night on earth; this was all she asked of it. “I don’t want to hear what you’re saying.”

  “It’s the truth. I can’t do this unless...” He seemed to struggle to find the right words. “I have to know you’re okay with it, that I’m not taking advantage of you.”

  “We’re taking advantage of each other,” she said and arched into him, seeking the fantasy that had enveloped her only moments before.

  Stubbornly, he clung to his resistance. “You’re sure?”

  She let her kiss answer for her, let it coax him to succumb, to forget that she was pretending he was someone else. And it worked. His restraint snapped. She felt it go.

  Mumbling words she couldn’t quite make out—heaven help me or something like that—he rolled her beneath him.

  Five

  They didn’t die that night. But when Maxim opened his eyes the next morning, he was almost disappointed to be breathing. They were still stranded, still freezing, and still without much hope. He’d also made love to his election opponent while allowing her to fantasize that he was her dead husband. How sick was that?

  Even sicker was the fact that he’d enjoyed it.

  What had he been thinking? Certainly not of waking up with her in the morning.

  But it didn’t matter. So what if they’d made love? The experience had been so passionate and intense, so all-consuming, it had kept them alive. Best to leave it at that.

  Adelaide was beginning to stir. He felt his body react when her breast brushed his arm. Her softness brought memories of their earlier intimacy and a surprising desire for more. But he was in no hurry for her to achieve full awareness...

  He’d tried to tell her he wasn’t Mark, and she’d responded as if she understood. But who could say what was really registering and what wasn’t?

  He pressed a thumb and finger to his eyes. Then something else occurred to him. He could no longer hear the wind. Had the storm abated?

  Maybe the worst was over. Maybe the rescue crews were on their way. If so, it wouldn’t be long before they were both taken home, and then they could forget what had happened here.

  Fresh air rushed in when he removed the piece of metal he’d wedged into the corner. As light streamed in with it, he felt a desperate urge to escape the confines of the cave—and the physical reminder of the line he’d crossed last night. But a groan told him Adelaide was awake. He glanced over to see her watching him warily.

  “Tell me we didn’t,” she muttered.

  Now that he could see her, it wasn’t difficult to spot the dried blood on her right temple. She’d been hit by something and had probably suffered a concussion. That explained a lot about her behavior, making him especially glad he’d identified himself properly before taking their lovemaking all the way. “Now you’re asking me for more lies?”

  “Can’t we consider it an extension?”

  He would’ve smiled at the wryness of her response, but he was still worried that he might’ve gone too far last night. He wasn’t exactly sure how it’d all happened. The passion was suddenly there. It had brought them together. Was it entirely his fault that they’d made love? He didn’t think so. He remembered trying to stop himself, but she’d been pleading with him to continue.

  Still, that bump on her head made him nervous... “Works for me,” he said, “as long as you understand the reality.”

  “Which is...”

  “You need me to explain it?”

  “I thought you were Mark.”

  “No, you wanted to think I was Mark, and I let you. There’s a difference.”

  “So you were doing me a favor.”

  “That’s a good way to look at it,” he said with false cheer.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re so self-sacrificing.”

  “As a public servant, I aim to please.”

  “Do you do those kinds of favors for all your constituents?”

  “Now you’re going to attack my reputation?”

  She seemed to realize that she was being purposely contentious. “It’s freezing,” she said with a sigh. “Any chance we can seal the hole until we hear a helicopter?”

  “You’re kidding, right? We have to get out, do whatever we can to make it easy for the Civil Air Patrol to find us.”

  “Do you always have to be so big on reality?”

  This time he did smile. “Put on your coat and crawl out so I can get mine.”

  She didn’t answer. Neither did she move. “I can’t believe it,” she mumbled, and he knew she was busy replaying the “favor” he’d done her. He’d told her he loved her! But that was when he thought they’d never see daylight again.

  “If it helps, we had no choice,” he said. “If we hadn’t gotten so...involved, we probably wouldn’t be alive right now.” Their activities had certainly warmed him.

  “I didn’t realize what I was doing.”

  He focused on widening the hole. “That scares me, and you know why. Are you going to keep it up?”

  “No.” She burrowed under the coats. “You might push me off a cliff if I do.”

  “I won’t kill you after going through that just to save you.” He grinned to himself.

  “You’re all heart.”

  When the hole was finally big enough to crawl through, he tossed the piece of metal he’d been using outside. “Are we going to stay in here and stress over the fact that we—” he wanted to say “had sex” to make it as impersonal as possible, but what they’d done wasn’t impersonal at all “—made love? Or can we forget about it, like we should, and move on?”

  “You’re willing to forget about it?” She popped her head out from under the clothes, seeming more embarrassed than angry. Maxim could understand why that might be the case. But he couldn’t hold the request she’d made last night against her. He’d read about the disorientation that often resulted from a knock on the head, not to mention the effects of hypothermia. Without those two elements, he doubted she would’ve have been able to pretend. Playing the role of Mark had been a stretch for him, even in the physical sense. Her husband hadn’t been much bigger than she was.

  “I’m willing to forget about it,” he said. “Are you getting out or not?”

  “There’s just one more thing.”

  He was sure he’d regret asking, but she’d piqued his curiosity. “And that is...?”

  “What about birth control?”

  “What about it?” He hadn’t used any. It’d been so long since he’d had to worry about it that he didn’t even own a condom, let alone carry one around in his wallet, which was in his briefcase on the plane, anyway. “Birth control hardly seemed important when I thought we were going to die.”

  “And now that we might live?”

  It was taking on a whole new significance. “What are the chances?”

  “Considering...everything, they could be pretty good.”

  Just what he wanted to hear. Not only had he made love to Adelaide Fairfax while letting her pretend he was Mark, he might’ve gotten her pregnant.

  Shit... That was the ab
solute last thing he wanted. He loved his two children, but they were grown. And he and Adelaide weren’t even friends.

  Swallowing a sigh, he refrained from sharing those thoughts. He knew it was better not to show her how upset he’d be if their encounter resulted in a pregnancy. “I see.”

  “So...you didn’t get fixed after you were finished having kids?” she asked.

  There’d been no need. His wife had had her tubes tied during the cesarean section performed at Callie’s birth. “No.”

  Adelaide’s face fell. But a moment later, she set her jaw, and he knew he was looking at the shrewd businesswoman who’d taken Fairfax Solar public. “Then I’ll make you a deal.”

  Surprised by her sudden calm, he raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “You tell no one what happened up here...”

  He liked it so far. “And...”

  “And if I’m pregnant, you let me keep the baby and pretend it isn’t yours.”

  He wasn’t sure he’d be able to do that, not after being a parent and knowing what it was like. But there were other considerations he felt more comfortable voicing. “You’re running for office. How will you explain a pregnancy when you’re not married?”

  “Maybe Mark made a deposit in a sperm bank before he died,” she said with a shrug.

  “Is it true?”

  “No.”

  I love you. She’d been crying when she said that. Her emotion had reminded him of what he’d felt before his own marriage disintegrated, made him want to experience again that same level of intensity. “You regret not having children when you had the chance?”

  “I never had the chance. Mark was infertile.”

  Maxim had always assumed it was her, that she’d been too wrapped up in her career to want a child. “You could’ve adopted.”

  “We were looking into it.”

  And then her husband had died.

  “Anyway, I wouldn’t have asked for this, wouldn’t have planned it,” she went on. “But if it’s already happened because of last night—”