Page 23 of Miss Christmas

“I’m so ridiculous—don’t pay attention to me,” she said, turning away from him as she swiped at the tears that didn’t stop.

He held her closer, caressed her hair and told her she was not ridiculous, told her she was a wonderful loving sister and Tiffany had been lucky to have her.

“You bet she was. When she got cancer, I shaved my head—so did Laura. We had a wig made from our hair for Tiff. She wore it even though it was a crazy wig with dark and light hair mixed in. Then when they had to take her kidneys, I gave her one of mine. Laura was so disappointed she couldn’t give her one too but she wasn’t a match.” She sobbed and he squeezed tight, holding onto her, holding onto his own emotions and wondering if sudden death was better than the long slow torture of watching someone die. None of it was easy or fair.

“I . . . I’m all right.” Scarlet pulled away from him. “You don’t need to hold me together. I won’t break.” The tears had stopped and she looked more determined than sad now.

“It didn’t matter in the end. The kidney gave us some time. But it wasn’t enough. When she was gone, a bigger piece of me than that kidney was gone forever. It was fitting that I gave her my left kidney to take with her. But it’s the thing I miss least.”

She closed her magnificent eyes and leaned into him while he held her, his heart beating fast, and they stayed like that for a long time, until the sun went down.

* * *

In the dark, she felt the reality of what she’d done, sharing their most intimate stories, their most private selves. It was a dangerous thing to do. But then she was a risk-taker. Like Shelly, the model. She wondered what that meant, whether it meant anything to Will.

But it didn’t matter because this was all a ride, the kind that would come to an abrupt end because he was all wrong. That caused a bubbling in her gut. Of course it would end because she would end it. Eventually. He had money and she didn’t.

But some day she would and it would all be hers, money she earned herself. She couldn’t afford to compromise her ambition, couldn’t afford to make her acting career anything but the top priority. The only priority. And wasn’t about to bring home a rich guy to meet her mother any time soon.

But in the meantime, she was impossibly crazy about Will. Wanted to enjoy the hell out of every minute of their ride together. They made love again that night, but this time it felt different, more desperate, more intimate. It made her feel more vulnerable. It was also mind-blowingly spectacular. Will was a new and bold pyrotechnic display like she’d never seen before.

* * *

In the morning after they showered together, just when Will felt like he could jump out his window and fly, things went wrong. Stupidly wrong.

He’d assumed they had something, the kind of thing where he would come by her diner again after work and take her home—to his place again.

In fact, he couldn’t imagine anything different after sharing intimacies and being in this sex-clouded state of mind. But Scarlet had a whole different set of expectations, clouded by the blue collar chip she wore. This, he reminded himself needlessly, was why he’d warned himself to stay away from Scarlet, why he’d managed to avoid complicated women with ambitions all his life. Until now.

“I’ll pick you up after work and we can go out to dinner.”

They stood in the bedroom on opposite sides of the rumpled bed. The air smelled of sex and he tried not to let the scent and her heaving breasts distract him from hearing her words. Unfortunately, her words were loud and clear.

* * *

Dinner after work? If only her life were that simple. She had an audition she couldn’t miss and laundry to do after that. She’d bet her week’s tips he never met a Maytag—unless it was the company founder himself.

“I can’t.” She felt unreasonably irritated at him. It wasn’t his fault he was rich and spoiled. But he was all the same.

He waited for an explanation and finally said, “Why not?”

Scarlet shoved her hands onto her hips, took a deep breath and took her mark, coming around to the other side of the bed to stand before him.

“Do you think I have no life? That I’d been pining away at the luncheonette wiping the counter only waiting for you to come along and sweep me up? I have an audition, no thanks to my agent. It’s an open call this evening for an understudy part in an off-off Broadway play. And nothing—certainly not another night of sex with you, although admittedly hotter than hell—is more important.” She realized the harshness of her words when the flash of more than disappointment crossed his face. Of course, he covered it up with a wry smile.

“We wouldn’t want my dick standing in your way to an off-off Broadway part. It could be the start of your climb to the top.”

Was he mocking her? A sizzle of anger shot to the surface before she could stop it. He’d pressed that one giant red-hot button. Her hand clenched into a fist and she wanted to slap his face, but she didn’t. “You bastard.”

“What the hell, Scarlet?” He flicked a look at her clenched fists then grabbed her wrists and held on. Shock more than anger shone in his eyes.

“How dare you mock my career?”

“How dare you mock my lovemaking?”

Touché.

That settled her and she stopped struggling against his iron hold on her wrist. It was futile anyway.