Silhouette Christmas Stories

night you fed me, tonight it's my turn. Fair's fair.'

Something in his tone warned her. She got a wary look in her eyes and said, 'Uh-oh-what kind of pizza is this, anyway?'

'The works,' Tony confirmed with wicked relish. 'Including olives, onions and anchovies. Hey, I'm Italian. What do you expect?'

She groaned, but mixed it with laughter. Oh yeah, he thought, there was definitely something different about her tonight; if it had been anybody but her, he would have been pretty sure she was flirting with him. Whatever the difference was, the effect it had on his vital signs was both predictable and devastating.

A second or two later, though, she got that closed, careful look on her face again and, like a little girl remembering her manners, said, 'Well, thank you anyway. You really didn't have to do this. It's awfully nice of you.'

Tony snorted. 'I wish you'd quit saying that.' When Karen cast him a questioning glance he shifted his shoulders and growled, 'Look, let's get something straight. I don't do anything just to be 'nice.' I only do things because I want to, you understand? That makes me selfish, not 'nice.''

'Bah, humbug,' said Karen, as a smile flickered at the corners of her mouth.

'What?'

'Nothing. So-you brought pizza because… '

'Because that's the only way I can be sure I get what I want on it.' That smile of hers was so bright and contagious, it was all he could do to repress the urge to smile back.

'And,' she persisted, stifling laughter, 'you're helping Andrew because you just happen to like playing with trains?'

'Right!' Tony shot back, still scowling gamely. 'All men are kids when it comes to trains-don't you know that?'

'Really?' She said it on a quick, indrawn breath, her eyes shining with that strange excitement. While Tony's pulse surged in automatic response, she seemed to teeter for a moment on the brink of saying something else, something of profound importance. Then she turned abruptly and opened a cupboard, and he heard the sigh of her exhalation.

I can't do it, Karen thought, as she reached for the plates. I can't ask him. He would only deny it, and she would feel foolish. She'd probably embarrass him, and he'd wish he'd never done it. Maybe, she thought, it was better not to know.

But she couldn't resist saying brightly, as she placed a stack of three plates on the table, 'Did you have a train like that when you were a little boy?'

'Me?' Tony coughed and said in his old, gruff way, 'Are you kidding? I'm the second youngest of seven kids. My folks raise almonds and peaches, down in the valley. We weren't poor, but we sure as hell didn't have money for things like electric trains.'

Frowning and fidgeting, obviously looking for a change of subject, he picked up the empty paper bag that was lying on the counter. 'Looks like we were both in Hoolighan's Hardware today,' he com-mented, peering into the bag and then putting it back down.

'Oh, yes.' Karen closed her eyes while her stomach rolled over, something it did automatically whenever she thought of the deadly little contraption in the cereal cupboard. 'I had to buy a-' she glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen door and lowered her voice to a whisper '-a mousetrap. Andrew doesn't know. I hated to do it, but I've had this problem for a while, and I don't know what else to do.'

She looked at Tony, and her breath caught. Audibly. A soft, telltale gasp. He was leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest, impossibly handsome, thrillingly masculine, annoyingly superior.

'So,' he said, 'you've set a trap for your mouse?'

Since she couldn't, for some reason, trust her voice, Karen nodded.

With his chocolate eyes glowing and a smile that was almost tender, Tony said softly, 'Have you thought about what you're going to do if you catch him?'

Chapter Four

Tony wasn't sure how long she might have stood there looking at him, her blue eyes swimming with mute appeal, or how long he could have gone on resisting his natural impulse to respond. There was something about those eyes of hers. They made him want to put his arms around her, gather her close and promise her the moon if she would only promise never to let those tears loose. He'd grown up with four sisters and was used to feminine waterworks, but he didn't think he could stand to see this woman cry.

Finally, just when she was opening her mouth to say something, there came a bellow from the living room.

'Mom! Come see what Tony brought!'

Karen replied, 'Coming!' She cast one last beseeching look at Tony as she hurriedly divided the pizza among the three plates, then picked up two of them and marched out, head high. Tony picked up the third one and followed her.

Andrew was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the train track, with the engine and cars all lined up in front of him, looking pleased with himself. He had a way of peering out over the top of his glasses, Tony noticed, that made him look like a fledgling owl.

'Hey, look, Mom-paint! It's a special kind of paint, too. It's for metal-to keep it from getting rusty. And there's all the colors, see?' He'd matched them all up, black for the engine and coal tender, green for the flatcar and cattle car, yellow for the boxcar, and red for the caboose. 'And look, there's white paint for the writing, and even paint thinner, and these little brushes. Do I get to do it, too, Tony? Huh? Can I help?'

'Help? No way. I'm going to have my hands full just getting the thing to run. That's your job.'

'Mine? You mean, I get to do it all by myself?'

'What's the matter? Don't you think you can handle it?'

'Well,' Andrew said slowly, 'I'm not too sure about the writing.'

'Writing?'

'Yeah, you know-like the name of the railroads and stuff.' His face was wistful. 'I want it to look just like a real train, with the different names on the cars. I don't know if I can do it right.'

Tony coughed, but it didn't do much to clear the gravel from his throat. He looked at Karen, and when she met his eyes, the look in hers nearly stopped his heart. Without breaking that contact, he said gruffly, 'Well, maybe your mom'll help you. If you ask her.'

'Mom? Please?'

'Of course-' Karen began in a whisper, then paused and went on briskly, 'of course I'll help. What we need is a book about trains, don't you think? I'll bet the library has some. Tomorrow we'll go and see. Now, have some pizza before it gets cold. Who wants something to drink? Milk or apple juice?'

'Milk, please,' said Andrew dutifully.

Tony muttered under his breath, 'I don't suppose you'd have a beer?'

He meant it half as a joke, expecting the look of maternal disapproval, that old 'please-not-in-front-of-the- children' look his mother used to lay on his father. But when Karen murmured, 'Sorry,' there was a gleam in her eyes to suggest that she, too, might be thinking how well a glass of cold beer would taste with pizza.

He wondered, suddenly, how long it had been since she'd done something for herself, just for fun. How long since she'd tasted a cold beer, taken in an R-rated movie, gone out on a date. How long since she'd thought of herself as a woman-just a woman, young, beautiful, sexy-instead of Andrew's mother. The thought stirred strong emotions in him, some of which he couldn't quite name, but one of which was definitely anger. Not that he had anything against kids in general-he meant to have a couple of his own, someday-or Karen's in particular. He'd gotten pretty fond of the kid, as a matter of fact. But, damn it, she was a woman, plus all those other things, in spades. And he knew that, more than he'd wanted anything in a long time, he wanted to be the one to make her remember it.

'I just remembered something,' said Andrew, eyeing a suspicious black spec on his slice of pizza. Without