Exhaustion exploded in her face again, along with a painful helplessness. “Yes, please.”
“Is something wrong?” he felt compelled to ask. His mouth tightened at the inadvertent question. Apparently the Salvatore code of behavior hadn’t been eradicated, even after thirty-five years of hard living. He still had trouble resisting a damsel in distress, despite having learned that women were rarely in true distress and frequently expected more than a simple assist. Maybe that was why he’d been so attracted to Rhonda. For all her flaws, she’d been as independent as they came. Still… He sighed, following the dictates his father, Dom, had done his damnedest to instill from the cradle. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Her frantic gaze fastened on him, urged him to say something—do something. But what she expected of him, he couldn’t begin to guess. “Don’t you know?” she whispered.
Aw, hell. “I’m a man, sweetheart. You have to tell me what you want.” He offered a teasing grin. “Try simple, single-syllable words in short, concise sentences. That tends to work best with me.”
She hesitated, her desperation plain to see. Finally, she shook her head, her lashes dipping to conceal the flash of pain that burned in her expression. “No, thanks. The tow truck is enough for now.”
For now, huh? Why didn’t that surprise him? Without another word, he turned and crossed the room to his study. It only took a minute to place the call and secure a promise that the tow truck would pick up “Babe” within the next two hours. Alessandro checked outside. Taking note of the gathering gloom, he grimaced. It was only one in the afternoon and yet it already looked like sundown. If that truck didn’t make an appearance within the next thirty minutes, it wouldn’t be coming at all. Already the woman’s car was blanketed by a couple inches of brittle, icy snow, not a hint of pink showing through the glaze of white.
He glanced through the study door toward the living room. His guest hadn’t moved from her position in front of the fireplace. The reddish glow from the embers licked across her delicate profile, highlighting the small, straight nose, sweeping arch of her cheekbones and gently rounded chin. The paleness of her hair also reflected the firelight, changing the silvery color to a fiery rose. The short cap of silky strands feathered about her head in attractive disarray, making her look more elfin than ever. If it weren’t for the small frown drawing her brows together, the aura of Christmas-like enchantment would have been complete. At a guess, her thoughts weren’t pleasant ones.
He deliberately turned his back on her before he was tempted to try and take complete charge. Whatever problems plagued her weren’t any of his business. Checking the phone book, he placed the second call, determined to find her a place to stay for the night. Unfortunately, the two small motels in town were full, as was the ski lodge perched on the next mountain over. Apparently the promised storm had brought in the skiers and snowboarders from the coast. That didn’t leave him many options. If he couldn’t get his visitor’s car out of his driveway or find a place for her to wait out the storm, she wouldn’t be going anyplace anytime soon.
Damn. He rubbed the furrow creasing his forehead. This wasn’t how he’d planned to spend the next few days. He craved solitude. Time to think. Time to plan. Time to gather himself for action. Apparently the fates had conspired to make sure he didn’t get the time he needed.
Giving in to the inevitable, he crossed the room to join her. For some reason, she drew him, rousing protective instincts that had him crouching beside her in a solicitous manner. “Lou said he’d be here within the next couple hours to pick up your car. So, you might as well take off your coat and make yourself comfortable.”
He was close enough to see the rapid give-and-take of her breath and the slight flush that crept across her cheekbones. Was he responsible for that? Perhaps he made her nervous. It wouldn’t surprise him. As the tallest and broadest of all the Salvatore boys, he’d long been considered the most intimidating of the lot. And yet, if she found him intimidating, she’d have edged away.
Instead, she swayed closer, the softening of body and gaze betraying an underlying attraction. Was she even aware of her actions? It was as though she felt at ease with him, comfortable in his presence. He’d never had a woman react that way to him in such a short time. He found it had a powerful effect, one he neither anticipated nor wanted. A brief holiday affair wasn’t what he’d planned for the next week or so. There were other matters on his mind.
With an economy of motion, he helped her out of her coat and tossed it toward the couch. She wore a man’s plaid flannel shirt beneath, the cotton washed into baby-soft pliancy. It clung to her breasts and hips, looking more feminine than he thought it possible for flannel to look.
“So why are you up here all on your lonesome instead of sharin’ the holidays with your family?” she asked.
For a moment, he could only stare. How did she know about his family? “Come again?”
She jumped to her feet and plucked a photo from off the mantel, her movements filled with a vitality he suspected to be more characteristic than her earlier stillness. The picture was a recent one showing his beaming father surrounded by Alessandro, his five brothers, their various wives, his six-and-a-half-year-old niece and a healthy smattering of nephews. “This is your family, isn’t it?”
He relaxed slightly, nodding in acknowledgment. “Good guess.”
She stared at the photo with an acute longing almost painful to witness. “If I had a family this impressive, I’d rather spend Christmas with them, not all by my lonesome.”
“Who says I won’t be spending it with my family?”
“Instinct.” She glanced around the comfortable living room and at the personal belongings that had somehow worked their way out of his suitcases and were scattered about. “You look to be dug in for the winter.”
“Feminine instinct tells you all that, huh?”
“Well… Maybe a bit more than instinct,” she confessed.
More than feminine instinct? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that might be or what it might indicate. It threatened to build a connection between them he had no intention of encouraging. Even with that decision firmly in mind, he found himself responding. “You’re right,” he conceded. “This isn’t my favorite time of year. I prefer to go through it alone, instead of inflicting myself on my family.”
“Now that’s a shame.”
“They don’t mind.”
“I’m not so sure. Your poppa appears to be a loving man. I’ll bet he isn’t too happy about your decision.” She smiled down at the portrait. “I’m surprised he hasn’t told you as much. I’m guessin’ he’s the sort who doesn’t put up with any nonsense from his sons.”
She’d read a lot into a simple photo. The fact that most of what she’d said also happened to be true only made Alessandro all the more wary. “What I choose to do isn’t his concern.”
She laughed, shooting him a knowing look. “Of course it’s his concern. That’s what being part of a family is all about.”
He preferred not to talk about himself, despite her determination to do just that. “Is that how it is with your family?” he asked. Maybe the question would help turn the tables.
“Once upon a time it was. Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“I only had a sister and she passed on two months ago.” She traced each member of the Salvatore clan with a blunt fingernail. “I… I still can’t hardly believe she’s gone.”
Aw, hell! “I’m sorry.” He squeezed her shoulder in gentle understanding. Once again, she leaned into his grasp, rather than pulling away from what most would