A reluctant silence stretched between them. There’d been a time when they couldn’t say enough to each other, and now there was nothing.
“I suppose I’d better get back.” Steve spoke first.
“Me, too,” she answered brightly, perhaps a little too brightly. “It was good to see you again … you’re looking well.”
“You, too.” He took a couple of steps backward, but still hadn’t turned away. Swallowing down her disappointment, Carol retrieved the car keys from the bottom of her purse and turned to climb into her Honda. It dawned on her then, hit her square between the eyes. If not Christmas Day then …
“Steve,” she whirled back around, her eyes flashing.
“Carol.” He called her name at the same moment.
They laughed and the sound fell rusty and awkward between them.
“You first,” he said, and gestured toward her. The corner of his mouth was curved upward in a half smile.
“What about Christmas Eve?”
He nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
Carol felt the excitement bubble up inside her like fizz in a club soda. A grin broke out across her face as she realized nothing had been lost and everything was yet to be gained. Somewhere in the distance, Carol was sure she could hear the soft, lilting strains of a Brahms lullaby. “Could you come early enough for dinner?”
Again, he nodded. “Six?”
“Perfect. I’ll look forward to it.”
“I will, too.”
He turned and walked away from her then, and it was all Carol could do to keep from doing a war dance, jumping up and down around the car. Instead she rubbed her bare hands together as though the friction would ease some of the excitement she was feeling. Steve hadn’t a clue how memorable this one night would be. Not a clue!
* * *
“Your mood has certainly improved lately,” Lindy commented as Steve walked into the kitchen whistling a lively Christmas carol.
His sister’s words stopped him. “My mood has?”
“You’ve been downright chipper all week.” He shrugged his shoulders, hoping the action would discount his cheerful attitude. “‘Tis the season.”
“I don’t suppose your meeting with Carol has anything to do with it?”
His sister eyed him skeptically, seeking his confidence, but Steve wasn’t going to give it. This dinner with his ex-wife was simply the meeting of two lonely people struggling to make it through the holidays. Nothing less and certainly nothing more. Although he’d been looking for Carol to deny that she was involved with Todd, she hadn’t. Steve considered her refusal to talk about the other man as good as an admission of guilt. That bastard had left her alone for Christmas two years running.
If Lindy was right and his mood had improved, Steve decided, it was simply because he was going to be out of his sister’s and Rush’s hair for the evening; the newlyweds could spend their first Christmas Eve together without a third party butting in.
Steve reached for his coat, and Lindy turned around, her dark eyes wide with surprise. “You’re leaving.”
Steve nodded, buttoning the thick wool jacket.
“But … it’s Christmas Eve.”
“I know.” He tucked the box of candy under his arm and lifted the bright red poinsettia he’d purchased on impulse earlier in the day.
“Where are you going?”
Steve would have liked to say a friend’s house, but that wouldn’t be true. He didn’t know how to classify his relationship with Carol. Not a friend. Not a lover. More than an acquaintance, less than a wife.
“You’re going to Carol’s, aren’t you?” Lindy prompted.
The last thing Steve wanted was his sister to get the wrong impression about this evening with Carol, because that’s all there was going to be. “It’s not what you think.”
Lindy raised her hands in mock consternation. “I’m not thinking a single thing, except that it’s good to see you smile again.”
Steve’s frown was heavy with purpose. “Well, don’t read more into it than there is.”
“Are the two of you going to talk?” Lindy asked, and her dark eyes fairly danced with deviltry.
“We’re going to eat, not talk,” Steve explained with limited patience. “We don’t have anything in common anymore. I’ll probably be home before ten.”
“Whatever you say,” Lindy answered, but her lips twitched with the effort to suppress a knowing smile. “Have a good time.”
Steve chose not to answer that comment and left the apartment, but as soon as he was outside, he discovered he was whistling again and stopped abruptly.
* * *
Carol slipped the compact disk into the player and set the volume knob so that the soft Christmas music swirled festively through the house. A small turkey was roasting in the oven, stuffed with Steve’s favorite sage dressing. Two pies were cooling on the kitchen counter—pumpkin for Steve, mincemeat for her. To be on the safe side a sweet-potato-pecan pie was in the fridge.
Carol chose a red silk dress that whispered enticingly against her soft skin. Her makeup and perfume had been applied with a subtle hand. Everything was ready.
Well, almost everything.
She and Steve were two different people now, and there was no getting around the fact. Regretting the past was an exercise in futility, and yet Carol had been overwhelmed these past few days with the realization that the divorce had been wrong. Very wrong. All the emotion she’d managed to bury this past year had seeped to the surface since her meeting with Steve and she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more confused.
She wanted a child, and she was using her ex-husband. More than once in the past week, she’d been forced to deal with twinges of guilt. But there was no going back. It would be impossible to recapture what had been between them before the divorce. There could be no reconciliation. Even more difficult than the past, Carol had trouble dealing with the present. They couldn’t come in contact with each other without the sparks igniting. It made everything more difficult. They were both too stubborn, too temperamental, too obstinate.
And it was ruining their lives.
Carol felt they couldn’t go back and yet they couldn’t step forward, either. The idea of seducing Steve and getting pregnant had, in the beginning, been entirely selfish. She wanted a baby and she considered Steve the best candidate … the only candidate. After their one short meeting at the restaurant, Carol knew her choice of the baby’s father went far beyond the practical. A part of her continued to love Steve, and probably always would. She wanted his child because it was the only part of him she would ever be able to have.
Everything hinged on the outcome of this dinner. Carol pressed her hands over her flat stomach and issued a fervent prayer that she was fertile. Twice in the past hour she’d taken her temperature, praying her body would do its part in this master plan. Her temperature was slightly elevated, but that could be caused by the hot sensation that went through her at the thought of sharing a bed with Steve again. Or it could be sheer nerves.
All day she’d been feeling anxious and restless with anticipation. She was convinced Steve would take one look at her and instantly know she intended for him to spend the night. The crux of her scheme was for Steve to think their making love was his idea. Again and again, her plans for the evening circled her mind, slowly, like the churning blades of a windmill stirring the air.
The doorbell chimed, and inhaling a calming breath, Carol forced