Be Mine at Christmas(18)
Author: Brenda Novak

She couldn’t get physical with him, she reminded herself. They both needed to have clear heads, to make a wise decision uninfluenced by peripheral desires. A decision about Kayla.

But then he tilted up her chin and kissed her softly, and all she wanted to do was melt in his arms and let him bury her fear beneath a torrent of sensation.

“I’m making you some dinner,” he said, as she greeted Sampson. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Angela had been so preoccupied that she hadn’t bothered to eat. “I am hungry,” she admitted and ignored the voice that was yelling Tell him! in the corner of her mind. They had all night, didn’t they? She had to wait for the right moment.

STEPHANIE STOOD at the pay phone, cursing the long wait as other addicts called a boyfriend, a girlfriend, family. They were limited to one call a day and Stephanie had already taken her turn, but she didn’t care. She pushed in front of several people, brushing aside their complaints. She needed to use the phone again, and no one was stopping her.

Was Angela moving to Virginia City? Was that what was going on? Or was she taking Kayla to her father?

After she’d found out she was pregnant, her mother’s reaction was the only reason Stephanie hadn’t told Matt. She’d wanted to let him know about the baby, could hardly wait to break the news that he had to notice her now. That she had something no one else did, even his beloved Danielle. She’d never seen her mother as angry as she’d been the day she’d learned—thanks to Angela—exactly what Stephanie had done. Betty had promised right then that if Stephanie ever told Matt about Kayla—if she ever told anyone the name of Kayla’s father—it would be the last straw. Betty would disown Stephanie, and she’d be out on her ass. For real. No family. No friends. No one to catch her when she fell.

Deep in her heart, Stephanie had known she needed her mother too much to sever that tie. And, in her more honest moments, she’d also known that even if Matt had accepted Kayla, he would never fully accept Stephanie. So she’d been forced to stick with her only form of support. She had to save herself one last chance, always. Betty was her ticket to a better life, when she’d finally had enough.

Once she’d grown older, however, she hadn’t used that chance and she’d rarely thought of Matt. He hadn’t been much of a partier in high school. She knew he wouldn’t approve of her and didn’t need his arrogant judgments.

But neither did she need Angela thinking she could take Betty’s place now that Betty was dead. Angela had told Stephanie she had to clean up if she wanted to be part of her daughter’s life. Yet Angela had no right to make such a stipulation. Stephanie had only signed those guardianship papers, giving Kayla to her mother, because she’d been desperate for a few bucks. Angela wasn’t even related to Kayla. How could Betty have signed Kayla over to her? Angela was a parasite her mother had picked up long ago, and now the flea thought she owned the dog.

Memories of her friend pleading with her to take control of her life threatened to undermine Stephanie’s resolve, as did an underlying knowledge that Kayla was probably better off without a mother like her, but Stephanie wouldn’t allow it. As long as Angela had Kayla, Angela couldn’t turn Stephanie away.

But Angela’s return to Virginia City seemed to confirm Stephanie’s worst fear. Was it over? Was Angela really giving up on her?

At last, Stephanie reached the front of the line. Behind her, she could hear two women complaining about how pushy she’d been. She knew they might report her. She’d leave the shelter if they did. This call meant that much to her.

She held the receiver, her hands shaking from withdrawal, but also from the emotions pounding through her. Her daughter was the one good thing that had ever happened to her. She couldn’t let Angela turn Kayla over to Matt.

“Operator. How can I help you?”

Stephanie drew a bolstering breath. She had to talk to someone who might’ve seen Angela, someone who might know what was going on. But who?

It took four tries—and all the change she’d won in a poker game earlier—before the operator actually had the number Stephanie had requested. “I’ll put you through,” she said.

Then the phone rang twice and Sheila Gilbert picked up.

“I have a collect call from Stephanie Cunningham. Will you accept the charges?”

There was a slight pause, followed quickly by a surprised, “Sure, no problem.”

MATT SAT AT ONE END of the couch facing Angela, who sat on the other. Sampson lay contently between them, stretched out at their feet. They’d had dinner and talked about his family, his job, her job, what it was like in Denver, how Virginia City had changed. He’d enjoyed the conversation, felt they’d connected in a way he hadn’t connected with a woman in years. She hadn’t touched him, but he still hoped the evening would end as he wanted it to. Imagining her as he’d seen her at his parents’, her head thrown back in wild abandon as he kissed her neck, bare shoulders and br**sts, made his heart race.

He ached to touch her again. Would he get the same powerful reaction?

He certainly didn’t want to spook her again. That night at his parents’, everything had happened way too fast. This time, he was determined to slow things down. Maybe he could even convince her to stay the night.

He liked the thought of that. But he felt it was important to talk about their other encounter. He had a feeling this relationship could be different from the casual flings he’d had with various women since Danielle, and that made him nervous. For the first time in ages, he wanted something he could lose. Especially because Angela didn’t seem receptive to anything serious. And she lived two states away.

Obviously, there’d have to be some kind of compromise if they were going to build anything long-term out of their tremendous attraction.

“About the other night…” he began.

She lifted her eyes above the rim of her glass. She’d refused wine and was having cranberry juice. “What about it?” she asked as she set the glass aside, suddenly cautious.

“I’m confused,” he admitted. “I can tell you’re not interested in letting me touch you again, and yet…I thought you enjoyed it.”

She cleared her throat. “I did.”

Frowning, he studied her. “Then why—”

“It’s not a matter of want,” she said, still guarded.

“So…you’re upset because it was too fast? More than you bargained for? What?”