Unforgettable Christmas Dreams: Gifts of Joy

by Rebecca York

“When did that stage end?”

  “When I found out that boys pay more attention to football games than they do to girls. Tommy Vincent kissed me in the coatroom at school, but when I asked him to come to my birthday party, he said he would rather play ball with his friends than eat cake and ice cream with mine.”

  “Kissed you in the coatroom,” he repeated, filled with the unsettling image of kissing the grown-up Amy in a coatroom.

  She nodded. “I have never had a face that would launch a thousand ships,” she said, referring to the legendary beauty of Helen of Troy, “but when Tommy Vincent kissed me, I felt like the bomb. A good kisser can knock a girl off her feet.”

  It irritated him for her to think less of herself. She wasn’t classically pretty. She was more, better in some strange indefinable way. “Don’t you remember that beauty’s in the eye of the beholder?”

  “Or in the case of my situation tonight, beauty’s in the eye of the beer holder,” she wisecracked with a gamine grin, then met his gaze and sighed. Her smile fell and hints of seductive emotion glinted in her eyes. “You should go to bed, now.”

  “Oh, really,” he returned, surprised at her abrupt suggestion. “Why?”

  “It’s late and you have to get up early because you are a Type A rancher, and…” Her voice dipped and faded. She caught her upper lip with the edge of her teeth and Lucas was distracted once again by hot visuals involving her mouth and his body.

  “And?” he prompted.

  “For a man who I’m sure is distantly related to Ebenezer Scrooge, you are very hot,” she said with a feminine frankness that was so sexy he felt an immediate surge of arousal. “You’ve been very kind, but I shouldn’t take it personally.”

  For one intense visceral moment, even though he’d warned her off him, he wanted her to take it personally. He wanted to wipe out the memory of Tommy Vincent’s kiss. He wanted to devour her honest need.

  He wanted. And that wasn’t good. That now-familiar edgy feeling of deprivation ate at him again. Steeling himself against it, he pushed it aside, but it was getting more difficult.

  He handed her the kissing ball and stood. “G’night,” he said, taking in the inviting sight of her wrapped in a blanket relaxing in front of the fire. As he climbed the steps, his mind taunted him with a picture of stripping off her clothes and warming her all the way through.

  Over the next two days, Lucas vacillated between his usual seasonal brooding and his reluctant attraction to Amy. She was like a bad virus that affected all his senses. When he entered the house, he listened for her throaty laughter. He stood closer to her than he should just so he could inhale her sweet, sexy scent. He didn’t know what soap she used, but it reminded him of clean, bare, feminine skin. Every once in a while, she accidentally rubbed against him as she walked past, putting his nerve endings on high alert. When she brushed her tongue over her lips, he remembered how she’d tasted, how she’d felt during that forbidden night when he’d allowed himself to taste and touch her. The trouble with sampling Amy was that a sample hadn’t been enough. He wanted to make an entire meal of her.

  After Flora set out a dinner he ate by himself in his office, Lucas took his dishes into the kitchen and walked into the den as he flipped through his mail. Although the room was quiet, the tree screamed holiday memories at him, so he quickly headed back to his office.

  Amy whipped around the corner with a laundry basket in her arms and slammed right into him.

  “Oh!” The laundry flew out of the basket onto the floor.

  Lucas instinctively shot out his hands to steady her.

  Jolted, she looked at him with chagrin. “Sorry, I didn’t see you coming.” She met his gaze and stood perfectly still, sensual awareness gradually seeping into her eyes. Glancing down at his hands on her waist, she cleared her throat and stepped backward. “Sorry,” she said, glancing down. “I’ve made a mess.”

  “No harm. Nobody got hurt,” he said, bending down to help her collect her clothing. He picked up a wild striped sock and a shirt.

  Amy shook her head as she scooped up part of the clothing. “I’m glad I hadn’t folded yet. It looks like a laundry bomb went off. Are you going to your sister’s house tomorrow night?”

  Distracted by the black bra he found in his hands, he tossed it into the basket. He couldn’t help remembering how responsive her breasts had been to his touch. “Why would I go to my sister’s house?”

  Amy looked at him in disbelief. “It’s her Christmas party. She said she holds a big bash with food and dancing every year. Don’t you usually go?”

  Uncomfortable, Lucas shrugged. “It depends on what else I have going on. I’m not a party animal.”

  “But this is your sister’s party,” she said as if she couldn’t imagine him not attending.

  Lucas absently picked up a silky garment and glanced down at it. A black thong. His mouth went bone dry. Despite her usual casual attire of jeans and big sweaters, he could easily visualize Amy dressed in the black bra, thong, heels and nothing else. He ran his thumb over the skimpy thong, imagining the way her skin would feel as he slipped the garment from her hips, down her silky thighs.

  After a moment, he realized she had turned silent. He glanced up and saw her watching him as he held the garment that touched her where he wanted to.

  “Do you really wear these?” he had to ask.

  She cleared her throat. “They don’t cause panty lines when I wear something that fits.”

  “So the idea is to make you look like you’re wearing nothing underneath,” he said, feeling a surge of heat. Lord help him, he hadn’t thought about women’s undergarments in years.

  “I guess,” she said, pulling the thong from his hands and putting it in the basket. “Debra tells me the party is dressy.”

  He nodded, rising with her as she stood. “She likes giving everybody an excuse to dress up at Christmas time. The women like it.”

  “The men don’t,” Amy concluded with a grin.

  “The men don’t mind looking at the women,” he said.

  “Hmm,” she said with a nod. “Well, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing while I go fold my laundry. And maybe I’ll see you tomorrow night at your sister’s party.”

  Or not, he thought as he watched her climb the stairs, her shapely bottom swaying from side to side, conjuring an erotic image with that black thong.

  His distraction with her irritated him. After a cold shower late at night, he wondered how to get her out of his system. A rebellious part of him asked him why he shouldn’t take what he wanted. They were both adults. It didn’t help that he often caught her looking at him with sensual curiosity just before she glanced away.

  Lucas told himself that just because he took her to bed didn’t mean he had to take her down the aisle.

  He didn’t want to hurt her or lead her on, though, and he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who separated her body from her feelings. That knowledge, however, was part of the attraction. If a man was able to tap Amy’s passion, what kind of lover would she be? The possibilities taunted him like a forbidden fantasy in the midnight hour, luring him, irritating him, frustrating the living daylights out of him.

  Reading the newspaper the following evening, he caught sight of Amy as she fluffed her hair and stuck her arms in the sleeves of a winter coat. Her long slim legs were encased in black stockings, and the hem of her little black velvet dress stopped three inches above her knees. He wondered if she was wearing the black bra and thong he’d held in his fingers the night before. Surreptitiously searching for panty lines beneath her dress, he saw none and felt a slow heat build from the inside out.

  Her eyes sparkled, and she’d emphasized her full lips with red lipstick. It occurred to him that he couldn’t imagine any man in the community of Kent who wouldn’t be angling for a kiss from Amy under his sister’s mistletoe. The notion irritated him.

  She glanced up at him and smiled. “Still undecided about the party?”

  “I may g
o over later,” he said, still not willing to commit himself. He hadn’t gone to a Christmas party since his wife died.

  “You should,” she said as she pulled on her gloves. “It’ll be fun. Bye.” She whirled out of the foyer, leaving her feminine scent in her wake.

  Fun, Lucas thought. Christmas hadn’t been fun for him for years. Why should it be now?

  Debra’s face fell when she looked past Amy standing in the doorway to her lovely home. “I’m so glad you came, but I was hoping…”

  “That Lucas would come, too,” Amy finished for her as she stepped into Debra’s beautifully decorated, large home. “He said he might, but I wouldn’t put money on it. I’ve never met a man less inclined to celebrate Christmas than your brother.”

  Debra squeezed Amy’s shoulders and gave a sad smile. “It’s true. Ever since his wife died a few days before Christmas, he hasn’t—”

  “At Christmas,” Amy interjected, giving Debra a double take. Her heart squeezed tight in her chest. No wonder Lucas acted like a grinch. Every year represented a painful reminder. “I knew his wife had died a few years ago, but not during Christmas.”

  Debra nodded as she took Amy’s coat. “Lucas has a Superman complex. Even though his wife was miles away when her car crashed, he somehow thinks he should have done something to protect her.”

  Amy remembered the photograph of Lucas’s wife on his dresser and felt her stomach twist. “They must have had a wonderful relationship for him to still be in love with her.”

  Debra wore a neutral look on her face. “I don’t know. Some people suffer from survivor guilt more strongly than others. But I can’t solve this for Lucas, although heaven knows I’ve tried.” She gave Amy a once-over. “I’m envious. You wear that tiny black dress so easily, and I look like a model for a dancing Christmas tree ornament.”

  Amy laughed and shook her head. “You look beautiful. You have the pregnant glow.”

  “New makeup,” she confided and ushered her into the large formal living room filled with the citizens of Kent. “Let me introduce you to a few local bachelors. It’ll be fun for me to watch them salivate over you.”

  “You’re exaggerating, but it’s nice to hear,” Amy said, thinking again of how her appearance couldn’t ever compare to the beauty of Lucas’s former wife. She frowned at the thought. Comparing appearances had never gotten her anywhere, so she wasn’t going to start that again. “Lead on,” she said, determined to forget about Lucas.

  Within a half hour, three men had asked for her phone number. All three men made sure they wouldn’t forget her by giving her their business cards with their phone numbers.

  Along with several other couples, Debra shooed Amy and Mr. Business Card number three, Frank Ginter, into the center of the room to dance to the sounds of Harry Connick Jr.

  Amy looked into Frank’s friendly eyes and couldn’t help noticing his fair, spare eyelashes. He wasn’t as tall as Lucas, and his shoulders weren’t—

  Stifling a groan, Amy stopped her useless comparisons. She’d told herself not to think about Lucas tonight. She’d told herself to flirt, to focus her undivided attention on whatever was happening at this very moment.

  This very moment, over Frank’s shoulder she spotted Lucas entering the room dressed in a crisp white shirt, a dark burgundy tie, black slacks and suspenders.

  Weeooo. Amy had a thing about a man in suspenders.

  She felt his gaze collide with hers and wrap around her like a hot encircling flame.

  She stumbled. “Oops.”

  Frank steadied her with a smile. “No problem. Song’s over. Would you like a drink?”

  “Good idea,” she said, determined to keep her gaze fixed on Frank’s kind face. Her ornery peripheral vision caught a half glimpse of Lucas. The man was entirely too watchable. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Debra give her brother an enthusiastic embrace, which he returned.

  Her attention divided, Amy blindly allowed Frank to guide her toward one of the refreshment tables. He whirled around and smiled. “Merry Christmas, Amy.” Then he lowered his head and quickly kissed her.

  Confused, she stared at him.

  “Mistletoe,” he said, pointing upward.

  She looked up and saw the familiar greenery. “Oh, Merry Christmas,” she said because she could think of nothing else to say and turned to get her punch.

  Although it took some effort, she managed to escape intense attention by ducking into the kitchen. She spotted Debra ruffling the hair of one of her children as she looked out the window.

  “One more treat, then off to bed,” Debra said, then met Amy’s gaze. “Teacher, please tell this little elf she’ll get sick if she eats too many more Christmas cookies.”

  “Miss Winslow!” the little girl said, her happy face covered with crumbs.

  Amy recognized her student and smiled. “Hilary, you look like you’re having a wonderful Christmas.”

  Hilary gave a big nod. “That was our assignment, Mom.”

  “But if you get a tummy ache from eating too many goodies, it’s going to be hard to complete your assignment,” Amy reminded the little girl.

  “Okay,” Hilary said reluctantly. “Did you see that my mom is gonna have a baby?”

  “Sure did,” Amy said. “Are you excited?”

  “I want a sister since I already have a brother.”

  Debra ruffled Hilary’s hair again. “We’ll see what we can do. Bedtime in fifteen minutes,” she said.

  “Oh, Mom,” Hilary protested.

  “Or now,” Debra said.

  “Fifteen minutes,” Hilary said and ran out of the kitchen.

  “She’s great in class. Whenever I ask questions, her hand shoots up first,” Amy said.

  “Well, she absolutely loves Miss Winslow. I think you gave a good holiday assignment. I just wish everyone would follow your instructions,” Debra said, tilting her head meaningfully toward the window.

  Amy stepped closer and saw Lucas standing outside on the patio decorated with tiny white lights. The strong solitary image tugged at her heart. “Tough time of year for him,” she murmured.

  “Yeah. I keep hoping for a change,” Debra said with a sigh. “I should return to the party.” She hugged Amy. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Me, too,” Amy said, then her attention returned to Lucas as Debra left the kitchen with a platter. He probably preferred his solitude, she thought, unbidden instinct nudging her to reach out to him.

  Go, a soft insistent voice inside her said.

  Don’t go, the loud, self-protective, practical voice ordered.

  Go. She couldn’t bear his loneliness.

  Don’t go. He wouldn’t want her intrusion.

  Torn, Amy bit her lip. She closed her eyes, but his image remained, stamped in her mind. No escape. Warning bells clanging loudly inside

  Chapter Five

  “Hi,” she said breathlessly, the winter air freezing her lungs. She had hoped to muster something more original or clever, but she felt edgy approaching him.

  Lucas immediately turned to meet her gaze. “Hi,” he said. The music playing in the den was piped outside.

  No conversational help from Lucas, she thought, wrapping her arms around herself. “Beautiful night,” she said, nodding toward the stars. “Freezing, but beautiful.”

  He nodded. “Why’d you come outside?”

  Because you looked lonely and I couldn’t bear it. She bit her tongue, then forced herself to smile. “Because I had escaped to the kitchen and saw you out here so I wanted to say hi.”

  “I saw you with Frank. He made good use of the mistletoe.”

  “He took me by surprise,” she said, and moved closer. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

  “I wasn’t, either. Not a party animal.”

  “You dress the part well.”

  He raised an eyebrow and almost smiled. “Is that so?”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “As if you didn’t know every woman was drooling over you.”

 
He chuckled in disbelief. “The only female I saw drooling was a teething six-month-old baby.” He paused. “Every woman was drooling,” he repeated, studying her intently. “Does that include you?”

  Amy felt a rush of discomfort. Her cheeks heated, and she prayed the darkness hid her telltale sign of embarrassment. Keep it casual, she told herself. “I’m not blind. For a cranky rancher, you’re pretty amazing eye candy.”

  He blinked and dipped his head as if he didn’t understand. “Eye candy. No one has ever called me eye candy.”

  She lifted her chin. “Maybe not to your face.”

  He chuckled again. “Wanna dance?”

  Amy’s jaw dropped. Shock ran through her. “Pardon me?”

  “Dance,” he said, moving closer, his eyes full of things that made her heart bump. “Wanna dance?”

  “Uh, sure,” she said and stood there like a post.

  Lucas extended his arms and drew her against him. The sounds of another Harry Connick Jr. song drifted through the outdoor speaker as Amy swayed in rhythm with Lucas. His shoulder was strong beneath her hand, and her head fit just beneath his chin. She inhaled deeply and was convinced the scent of his cologne was formulated to inspire a woman to strip off her clothes and throw herself at him.

  Amy closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment to play a game of pretend. What would it be like to be the woman Lucas wanted more than anything? How would it feel to be the object of his affection?

  Bittersweet longing slid through her and twisted her heart. To be wanted by him. To see passion and love in his eyes for her. To hear words of love from his mouth. To be the woman who made him smile.

  She wondered if he had danced this way with his wife. She wondered if he longed for his wife tonight. The ache inside Amy spread to her throat and stomach.

  As his thighs rubbed against hers, she wanted to lean forward to kiss his throat, to taste his skin. She shouldn’t be thinking these things. If she did what was good and safe, she would wipe all these crazy, impossible thoughts from her head. When it came to Lucas, even a few moments of the game of pretend were dangerous.