Both Pop and Miss Annie kissed Lucy's cheeks as affectionately as if they had known her for ages rather than hours. And then Miss Annie pulled Banner down to her so she could kiss him, too.
Lucy was delighted when Banner blushed as vividly as a schoolboy.
Pop lingered behind after his grandsons escorted Miss Annie out to the car. His expression was somber when he turned to Banner and Lucy.
“My wife isn't well,” he said, his voice quiet. “This is likely to be her last Christmas on this earth. She wanted to spend it with people she cared about.”
Banner looked almost stricken and at a loss, as Lucy was, about what to say in response to Pop's poignant words. “I'm sorry your plans didn't work out,” he said finally.
Pop smiled then. Gently. Sweetly. “You don't understand. I'm trying to thank you for making her wish come true. Everyone was so kind to her-especially the two of you. You went out of your way to make sure it was a pleasant holiday rather than an unfortunate string of circumstances, and I appreciate your efforts more than you'll ever know.”
Now Lucy was blushing. “It wasn't just us,” she said, knowing she spoke for Banner, too. “Bobby Ray and Joan-”
“Yes, I know everyone pitched in to make it nice,” Pop cut in indulgently. “And I thanked them as they left. Now I must be going. Mother and I have another Christmas celebration waiting for us with even more people that we care about.”
There was an enormous lump in Lucy's throat as she watched the old man shuffle outside, where he was joined hastily by one of his grandsons. She watched until the two vehicles left the driveway, leaving her little car sitting there looking a bit lonely.
She would miss them all, she mused. As much as she looked forward to seeing her own relatives, she felt almost as though she had adopted a second family during the past couple of days.
Even knowing that they had shared the superficial camaraderie of enforced circumstances, she thought the warmth between them had been sincere. She had genuinely liked each one of her fellow travelers, and she hoped to see them all again. She thought she had made a new friend in Joan, and she always welcomed new friends.
As for Banner…
She turned to face him, suddenly, intensely aware that they were now alone in his house. She was free to leave at any time-but she didn't want to go just yet. She only wished she knew how Banner felt about her.
Banner didn't want Lucy to go. Even though he knew it was time for her to move on, time for her to return to a life that didn't include him, he dreaded the thought of saying goodbye to her. The requisite niceties, the patently false assurances that they would see each other again sometime, the polite offer and rejection of compensation, the expressions of gratitude he didn't want.
It had been bad enough from the others, but that wasn't at all the way he wanted to part from Lucy.
Problem was, he didn't want to part from Lucy at all. At least, not yet, he corrected himself.
But because he saw no point in delaying the inevitable, he drew a deep breath and turned to her. “Thanks for helping me see everyone off. I know you're eager to join your father and your other family members.”
“Yes. But there's no reason for me to rush away. It's just a little more than a two-hour drive from here, and it's not even three o'clock yet.”
Was she telling him she was in no hurry to leave? Remembering the way she had kissed him in the kitchen earlier, he wondered again if she was seeing something in him that wasn't really there, if she was perhaps mistaking simple-if powerful-physical attraction for something more lasting.
He cleared his throat. “It'll be nice to have my house to myself again. I'm not used to having a lot of people around. I get a lot more done when Hulk and I have the place to ourselves.”
Amusement warmed her pretty face and gleamed in her emerald eyes, as if she were savoring a joke she wasn't ready to share with him. “I'm sure Hulk is excellent company.”
“Ideal company,” he replied, studying her smile with some suspicion. “He doesn't expect me to entertain him or cater to him. He isn't offended when I spend all day in my workshop or if I'm not in the mood to talk or play. It doesn't bother him that I don't know when his birthday is and he has no interest in mine. He's happy with a simple life-plain food, a warm bed, an occasional tummy rub. He's never asked for more from me than I was willing-or able-to give.”
“That's quite an endorsement, Hulk,” she murmured, patting the dog's shaggy head. “You should be very proud. What breed is he, by the way?”
Realizing that she was talking to him again, Banner cleared his throat. “Beats the hell out of me. I found him on my doorstep when he was a pup about three years ago. I figured he was so ugly someone just dumped him.”
“And because you identified with him, you took him in and made him your friend,” Lucy murmured. And then she laughed at his expression.
“I don't mean you identified with the ugly part,” she assured him. “You've got enough mirrors around here to know you're just the opposite of ugly. But perhaps there were other things about him that reminded you of yourself.”
How had she possibly known how strongly he had been drawn to the gawky, oddball, unwanted stray pup he'd found huddling defensively in his yard? And when she had said he was the opposite of ugly, did that mean she found him…?
Shaking his head impatiently, he half turned away. “I'm sure you're eager to get on the road.”
“You seem awfully anxious for me to leave.” She reached out to rest a hand on his forearm. “Maybe I was mistaken, but I thought we had a few things to say to each other before I go.”
His first instinct was to move away from her, but her touch felt too good to shake off so easily. Instead he resorted to cynicism. “The professor and the woodworker? I can't imagine we'd have much to say to each other.”
He'd expected either hurt or anger in response to his dismissive tone. He wasn't prepared for her laughter. The low, husky sound of it went straight to his loins, even as it baffled him. What the hell was so funny?
Her hand slid slowly up his arm to his shoulder, and his imagination kicked into overdrive, so that he could almost feel little pops of electricity everywhere she touched him. “I think we can find something to talk about,” she murmured, looking up at him through her wickedly long lashes.
He swallowed heavily. “You, uh, should realize that we didn't meet under normal circumstances. The holiday mood probably influenced you, and I've made an effort to be…well, more charming than usual. I'm not really like- damn it, would you stop laughing at me?”
“I can't help it.” Her smile was nearly blinding, her eyes glittering with firelight and appreciation. “You're just so sweet when you're all panicky and noble.”
Sweet, panicky, noble. Not one of those adjectives pleased him. “I am not panicky,” he informed her, choosing the one that bothered him most. “I'm trying to keep you from doing something you'll regret.”
“I'll worry about my regrets. Do you want me to leave now, Banner? Because if you do, I certainly don't want to overstay my welcome.”
“No.” He had answered without having to think about it. “But-”
Lucy moved a little closer to him. “You know that make-believe mistletoe in the kitchen?”
“Yeah?”
“It just moved into this room,” she said as she rose onto her tiptoes.
Oh, hell. Who was he to resist mistletoe-even the make-believe kind?
He dragged her against him and closed his mouth over hers, tasting the smile that had been taunting and tempting him.
Had her mouth not been otherwise occupied, Lucy might have been tempted to sigh with relief. She had been so sure that Banner didn't really want to send her away, but she knew the mutual attraction that had developed so quickly between them made him very nervous.
She couldn't blame him; she'd felt the same way initially. But then, Lucy had always been the type to make up her mind quickly. Banner, apparently, took a bit more persuasion.
And this kiss, she thought, sliding her hands up to lock behind his neck, was a heck of an argument in her favor.
His arms were around her now, and the strength she felt in those woodworker's muscles thrilled her. It would take no effort at all for him to literally sweep her off her feet. He'd already done so figuratively, and as far as she
