Unforgettable Christmas Dreams: Gifts of Joy

by Rebecca York

  Lucas lowered his head slightly and Amy gave in to the drugging wanting sensation inside her. She lifted her mouth, and he took it.

  His mouth was warm and supple as he rubbed hers. She parted her lips and giving a low sound of approval, he slid his tongue just inside her mouth, tasting and teasing. He coaxed her response with a subtle seductiveness that made her want more. She grew hot from the inside out. Her fingers instinctively massaged his well-developed pecs.

  He deepened the kiss and slid his thumb down her neck to finger the tiny strap of her nightgown. Cocking his head to one side, he sought more intimate access as he continued to toy with the strap. Amy felt her breasts grow heavy with arousal, and she shifted as her blood pooled in all her sensitive places.

  Lucas thrust his tongue inside her mouth, simulating how his body would take hers. She suckled his tongue, and Lucas pushed the strap off her shoulder, and skimmed his finger down her breast. At the same time he made love to her mouth, he rubbed his finger over her nipple.

  She gasped at the electric sensations that coursed through her.

  Pulling his mouth away, Lucas stared at her with fire in his eyes, his nostrils flaring. He nudged her down and replaced his finger with his mouth on her nipple. Passion roared through her head. He slid his hands to her nightgown and between her thighs.

  His hands and mouth were persuasive, but the raw need he emanated made her weak. Sinking her fingers into his crisp hair, she wriggled against him. Giving a low growl, he moved up her body. “So responsive,” he murmured, sliding his fingers just inside her panties.

  Amy bit her lip. Her body clamored to go further, to sink deeper into him, but some buried instinct of self-protection clanged like a loud bell inside her head. She covered his hand with hers. “Fast,” she managed to say breathlessly.

  His gaze, full of need and want, held hers for a full moment. He swore under his breath, then shook his head. Pulling away, he moved from the bed in one smooth moment that left her feeling cold and exposed. She pulled her nightgown into place and lifted the covers to her shoulders.

  “Crazy,” he muttered, raking his hand through the same hair she’d touched just moments before. “Insane. I don’t know what got into me,” he said, looking at her. “I heard you when you were having your nightmare, but I didn’t intend to—” He broke off. “Put it down to sexual deprivation and forget it happened,” he said, and left her staring after him.

  Stunned and insulted, Amy lay in bed for a half moment. Crazy, insane. She could buy that, but the notion that any woman could have aroused him raised her blood pressure. Tossing back the bedcovers, she jumped out of bed and stalked after him. He’d already closed the door on his room, but that didn’t stop her. She rapped smartly on it, then pushed it open.

  He stood by the window, the moon spilling over his tall, powerful form. Her heart dipped, but she tried to ignore the sensation. “Sexual deprivation,” she said, moving toward him. “Are you telling me that the reason you kissed me had no emotional basis? That you’re not attracted to me in the least?”

  “Yes, to the first question. No to the second,” he said bluntly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex.”

  “With your sparkling personality, I can understand why.”

  “I gave up sex after my wife died.”

  Amy suddenly felt two inches tall. “Oh,” she said.

  “Don’t expect anything emotional from me,” he warned. “I have nothing to give.”

  Amy felt a wave of pain emanate from him. The depth of his wound and his remote attitude grabbed at something inside her. He was so different from the man who had held her and kissed her with such passion just moments ago. “I’m not sure I can agree with that,” she said, forcing herself to move toward him even though he couldn’t be less welcoming. “If you had nothing to give, then you wouldn’t have come to me when you heard me having a nightmare.”

  “It wasn’t personal,” he told her in a quiet voice.

  A sharp stab slowed her pace toward him. “So you would have comforted anyone having a nightmare. That’s okay. Does that mean you would have kissed anyone, too?”

  He gave a heavy sigh. “Don’t take any of it personally. I’m not used to having a woman like you around the house all the time.” He raked his hand through his hair and looked over her shoulder. “I’m sorry it happened.”

  I’m sorry it happened. I’m sorry I held you. Nothing personal. Nothing personal was her worst nightmare. If there was one thing Amy didn’t want with a man, it was a temporary burst of passion. She wanted a relationship that would last, something worth keeping. A knot formed in her throat and she followed his gaze to his dresser where a photo sat. She walked toward the photograph to better see it. A beautiful blond woman wearing a lace wedding dress smiled with happiness and confidence. Perfect smile, perfect features.

  “Your wife?” Amy asked even though she already knew.

  “Yeah,” he said, keeping his distance.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and a silence full of grief and heavy emotions filled the room.

  Confused, Amy didn’t want to face Lucas at the moment. She didn’t want to look at him, nor did she want him looking at her. She wanted to hide. “I’ll go now,” she said quietly, and left the room. Lucas was a good man. He just wasn’t good for her.

  Lucas didn’t see Amy at all the next day. Long after nightfall, she was nowhere to be seen. That was good, he told himself as he looked outside the window. He didn’t need her around messing with hormones he’d thought were dead. He didn’t need her constant reminders of the Christmas season. Christmas might be a favorite time of the year for others, but for him it meant loss. He didn’t need her around upsetting his routine and making him feel…alive.

  Lucas swore under his breath. The phone rang, distracting him from his dark thoughts. He picked it up, and his sister was on the other end of the line.

  “You need to go into town to Lucky’s,” Debra said without preamble.

  Lucas glanced at the clock. It was after 10:00 p.m. Lucky’s was the only bar in town. “Why?”

  “Because the Christmas carolers went there after they finished singing, and Dan Arthur is after Amy. I just know he’s going to have too much to drink, and he’ll end up doing something lewd and insulting.”

  Small-town gossip spread faster than a five-alarm fire. “Deb, you’re being a busybody,” Lucas said.

  “I’m protecting my children’s education. Amy is the best teacher we’ve ever had here, and nobody wants to lose her.”

  “Then why don’t you go to Lucky’s?” Lucas asked.

  “Because I’m not big or hairy enough to be threatening to Dan. A man needs to do this.”

  Lucas rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think Amy can handle this kind of thing herself?”

  “Maybe,” Debra conceded. “But just in case she can’t, I think you should be there.”

  “And what exactly am I supposed to do?”

  “Look big and threatening to Dan and give Amy a ride home.”

  Lucas shook his head. “I’m settled in for the night. I’m not going to Lucky’s because you are afraid Dan Arthur is going to turn into a raging bull in rut with poor little Amy.”

  “Lucas Bennet, if we lose Amy because you wouldn’t do your part in taking care of her, then I promise you I will send all of my children to your house every day for you to teach them. Goodbye,” she said, and hung up.

  Amy wasn’t feeling very Christmassy. The cold wind whipped through her as if she weren’t dressed in layer on top of layer. Trudging down the lane from town, she adjusted her knit cap and wondered if she should be walking toward Lucas’s house or not.

  She had thought the outing tonight would take the sting out of his apology for kissing her. She snarled in distaste. The Christmas carol part had helped, but sharing a hot toddy with Dan Arthur afterward to fortify her feminine ego hadn’t been one of her better choices. Dan had already been pushy, and after a few drin
ks, he’d become grabby. She’d felt as if she’d been fighting off an octopus, and when she’d decided to leave, he’d protested loudly. He insisted on driving her to his house for them to talk, but Amy knew he didn’t want to talk, so she’d left the bar.

  Lucas lived too far from town for her to walk the entire way, but Amy thought she might be able to stop at one of her fellow carolers’ homes and get a ride. There were no cars on the road because, with the exception of Lucky’s, the town had closed.

  Fighting her horrid mood, she belted out “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer,” as she continued walking against the brisk winter wind.

  Thirty minutes later, her voice grew raspy, her jaw shivered, and she couldn’t feel her toes. Her nose was running.

  A truck, the first vehicle she’d seen since leaving Lucky’s, pulled alongside her. Amy was so cold she would consider accepting a ride from her worst nightmare.

  The driver-side window whirred downward and Lucas looked out at her.

  Her worst nightmare, she thought. Close. She didn’t want any more favors from him, even a ride, but the seductive promise of warmth won over pride.

  “Want a ride?” he asked.

  She nodded and strode to the other side of his truck. He pushed the door open for her and she climbed in. Heat roared from the vents and warmth immediately enveloped her.

  “Want to tell me what happened?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she said, rubbing her hands together and looking away from him. “Mind if I change the heat vents?”

  “No.”

  As soon as he muttered the word, she flipped the controls so that heat flowed from the lower and upper vents. She stuck her face in front of one of them, relishing the warm air.

  “Problem with Dan Arthur?” he ventured.

  “Yes,” she said, feeling she owed him a limited explanation since he’d rescued her from the cold. “He had too much to drink at Lucky’s and got a little—” She broke off, searching for the right word. “Pushy.” She pulled off her glove and wiggled her hand in front of the vent. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”

  “Dan was wonderful?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. The heat is wonderful. I don’t want to talk about Dan. He’s not going to be very happy with me when he finds out I took his keys.”

  “Why did you take his keys?”

  She pulled off her other glove and wiggled her other hand in front of the vent. “You have no idea how good this feels.”

  The near-sexual purr in her voice slid under Lucas’s skin. “Dan’s keys,” he prompted.

  She sighed, pulled off her hat and poked her face in front of one of the vents again. “I couldn’t let him drive, so I took his keys when he went to the bar to buy a drink for me.”

  “If you took his keys, why didn’t you just drive his car home?”

  She made a face. “He’s an attorney and he’d probably sue me or call the sheriff if I took his car. He’d have a tougher time going after me just for keys. I’ll return them tomorrow.”

  “I’ll take them back for you,” Lucas said, anger burning in his gut. “What kind of man lets a woman walk miles in the freezing cold at night?”

  “Since I sneaked out of the bar, he didn’t really know I would be walking in the freezing cold. In fact,” she added dryly, “he invited me to stay overnight at his house.”

  Lucas scowled. His sister had been right. He felt Amy’s gaze on him.

  “I was lucky you drove by,” she said. “What brought you out tonight?”

  “Neighbor called. Asked me to check on something,” he hedged, then pulled into his driveway. He turned the corner of the drive and stopped in front of the house. “Let’s get you inside.”

  She shot him a gaze full of reluctance. “I don’t want to.”

  He arched a dark eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Your house is cold. It’s warm here.”

  He heard a tinge of feminine pique in her voice. Watching her wrap her arms around herself, he suspected she was talking about more than room temperature. She was probably talking about him. “I’ll turn the heat up.”

  When she said nothing, he sighed. He shouldn’t care squat if she wanted to camp in his truck the rest of the night. “C’mon. I’ll build a fire.”

  She threw him a look of skepticism laced with a sexual dare that hit him like an unexpected undercut. “Are you sure you know how to build a fire and keep it burning?

  Chapter Four

  Stop being nice to me, Amy wanted to say to Lucas after he quickly built a fire in the wood stove insert, then situated her in front of it. I don’t want to like you. He gave her a blanket, disappeared for a few minutes, then returned to offer her a mug of hot chocolate.

  “I used your mix in the glass canister on the counter,” he said, leaning next to the mantel.

  Amy took a sip and the liquid kicked and burned all the way down. She cleared her throat. “I think you added something.”

  His mouth lifted in a lazy half grin. “A couple shots of bourbon. I figured you could use it. You’ve had a rough night.”

  His hair slightly tousled, he stood in casual attention-getting ease, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans that molded to his powerful thighs. She sighed and took a deep gulp of her cocoa. If he were uglier or meaner, she wouldn’t find him so utterly compelling. Maybe if she didn’t look at him, that would help keep her defenses in place. “Thank you,” she said, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the chair.

  “You’re welcome,” he said quietly. “Warm enough?”

  “Yes,” she said, even though she knew he could make her a lot warmer. She took another sip. She’d never been a big drinker, but the sweet cocoa countered the bitterness of the alcohol. She took another sip and felt some of the tension leave her body.

  “I walked past your room and noticed you hung some kind of ball over your door.”

  Amy immediately stiffened and opened her eyes to meet his gaze. “It’s not a hint,” she told him. “It’s not personal.”

  Confusion wrinkled his brow. “What is it?”

  “It’s one of my most treasured possessions and, no matter where I’ve been, I have hung it every Christmas since I was six.”

  “You still haven’t told me what it is,” he said.

  She paused a moment, reluctance holding her tongue. “It’s a holiday kissing ball,” she finally admitted in a low voice. “I’ve been working on it since I was six years old. A lady came to the children’s center where I stayed after school and helped us make them.” A wave of nostalgia passed through her. “She told me she wanted to keep me, but she couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “She was sick. She visited me several times, but then she died that next year.”

  “That must have been tough.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “But she was one of those people that I was lucky to meet even if it was only going to be for a short time. She knew that Christmas was going to be her last, but she was determined to make the best of it. Even though she knew her time was running out, she made sure it counted. I was young, but old enough to be impressed, and I wanted to be like her.” She closed her eyes, remembering that wonderful feeling of being wanted. “I felt so special that she could want me.”

  Amy felt the silence stretch between them and took a long sip from her hot chocolate. “Oops. I’m getting all sentimental and I’m probably making you very uncomfortable, so I’ll stop. Tell the truth, that kissing ball is the gaudiest thing you’ve ever seen, isn’t it?”

  He looked at her in consternation, then chuckled and shook his head. “It’s vivid,” he said, as if he were straining to find the right description.

  “Don’t be kind about my kissing ball,” she said. “Martha Stewart would need a tranquilizer if she took one look at it. There’s something on that kissing ball from just about every stage of my growing up years.”

  “Really,” he said, looking at her, then leaving the room.

  “Where are you—” Sh
e broke off and shrugged, then took one last swallow of her hot cocoa.

  He returned to the room with the kissing ball dangling from his hand. “Inquiring minds want to know. Why the black ribbon and skull and crossbones?”

  Surprised by his interest, but too relaxed by the cocoa-with-kick to be overly self-conscious, she smiled. “My very brief Goth period.”

  “Goth,” he echoed in disbelief.

  “Yeah, it’s when I dyed my hair black, wore all black clothes and a black leather choker and bracelets.”

  He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

  “Mercifully brief,” she said, and pointed to the tiny pony charms. “That was my pony period. I asked Santa for a pony for Christmas. He said I was a little too young to care for one by myself, but perhaps when I was older, I could have one. Shrewd guy. Knew how to cover his posterior without totally mashing my dreams.”

  Lucas nodded. “What about the sparkles?”

  “Magic phase. I wanted to change the world,” she said with deadpan seriousness. “By being a fairy.”

  Lucas cleared his throat to cover a chuckle.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not laughing, are you?”

  Lucas took in the sight of her hair sticking out in at least four different directions, smudged mascara beneath one eye, and her bad-girl mouth trying to be stern but not succeeding. She wasn’t pretty, but she was fascinating. Her Christmas Pollyanna attitude got on his nerves, but he understood it a little better now. And she was right about the kissing ball. It was the most gosh-awful conglomeration of color, fabric, and doohickeys he’d ever seen, but through her stories it, too, became oddly fascinating.

  He’d hated the lost look he’d seen in her eyes when he’d picked her up on the side of the road. That was why he’d started the fire and fixed the cocoa. That was why he’d asked her about the kissing ball—to distract her. For himself, he couldn’t be less interested.

  “What about the lace?”

  She winced. “Bride stage. I wore a veil for about three months.”