All I Want For Christmas

by Emily Forbes

  He turned to her. 'Shall we?'

  His eyes had a guarded look that melted her heart even more than the usual sparkle in his normally wicked expression.

  Taking his arm, and saying goodbye to her family, they shuffled out of the hall amid the throngs of over-excited children and proud parents, the noise level so high that she didn't try to speak, just let him guide her out the front doors. His hand found hers, their fingers wove together and she remembered the fit from years ago, the comforting feel of his touch, fingers entwined, intimate without risking anything. Holding hands could mean nothing more than two people being friends, or it could be the first stage to so much more, and it brought back the memories of that time when they had moved slowly forward from friendship, tentatively revealing their feelings for each other. When holding hands had allowed them to say so much without words, and the attraction they'd felt for one another had only needed that small touch to make itself known.

  She shifted her fingers in his hold, half wanting to break the touch, half to strengthen it. Tom reacted by folding his fingers a little more firmly around hers and she closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to slip back into the past and remember what it had been like to be fully immersed in the wonder of Tom.

  Her mind drifted across the past, recalling when they'd made love for the first time. The sweet suspense, the build-up of expectation, then the bliss of discovering that what she'd anticipated had been only a pale shadow of the real experience of making love with her adored Tom.

  They were away from the school grounds now and the last sounds of people saying their goodbyes were faint. They were walking toward the beach, back to where Tom had given her chocolate milk and doughnuts. Now, though, the moon's light was dancing on the sea, a white path of night-time magic instead of the morning sun.

  'Shall we walk or sit?' Tom's words were the first spoken since they'd left the hall.

  If they sat she'd have to let go of his hand. 'Let's walk,’ she said.

  They kept moving and she felt Tom shorten his stride so their steps fell in unison. She knew he'd come tonight because he needed to talk. She also knew he'd have trouble getting started unless she prompted him.

  'How was your afternoon?'

  'Quiet.'

  'Did you surf for much longer?'

  He shook his head. 'It wasn't helping.'

  He was angry. She couldn't think of another word to describe his mood and she hadn't seen him like this before.

  The exasperation was clear. 'I'm a doctor, I should have been able to save him. I keep wondering what more I could have done for him.'

  'Nothing.'

  'You don't know that.'

  She had to challenge his exasperation at himself—it was misplaced. She stopped and pulled back on his hand until he'd turned to face her, wanting him to look her in the eye, see for himself she believed in him. 'We've all lost patients. It happens.'

  'Yes, but this is the first time I've really felt I could have done more.'

  'Tom, you said it yourself. You're a doctor, and a good one. What more could you, or anyone, have done? I wouldn't have even been able to get him back to shore.'

  'I didn't get him back alive, so there's no difference.'

  'Have you spoken to Pete?' When Tom shook his head, Lexi continued. 'Liam was his patient, his overweight, asthmatic patient. Pete had told him that swimming would be a good form of exercise, but he'd meant in a swimming pool. Liam wasn't physically fit enough to be out in the ocean. Pete's convinced that Liam probably had an asthma attack, which would have triggered the tragedy. His death wasn't your fault.'

  ‘If I'd been quicker to react, I might have been able to do something.'

  'If. Might.' She stopped, turning to him, trying to strengthen him with her faith in him. 'What about if you weren't as fit as you are, you might have drowned, too. We might have lost two lives today instead of one. You did your best, no one would dream of blaming you.' She tugged at his hand, trying to persuade him to believe her view.

  'There was a moment when I thought we were both gone. The current was so strong, I didn't think I'd have the strength to get us out. '

  'But you did. '

  He shrugged. 'I don't know how. It can't be my time to go yet.'

  She could hear the inconsistencies in his statements, blaming himself even as he agreed he'd almost lost his own life, but she'd said enough. He had to work through his reaction himself and she could only hope that at some level he'd taken her words in and would start to believe them.

  'Come on. Follow me.' She took his hand, tugging him down to the beach, trying to ignore her body's immediate reaction to his touch.

  He fell into step. 'Where?'

  'To take a peek at the universe—it'll put things into perspective.'

  They headed down towards the beach, treading along the slight embankment of sand covered in sharp sea-grasses, and Lexi stumbled in the dark, not ready for the change underfoot from hard earth to soft sand. Tom tightened his hold on her in response, one hand still holding hers, the other now placed firmly at her waist to steady her. Lexi stepped closer to him, let her body shape itself to his until she could feel his warmth through her shirt. Their bodies swaying against each other, she debated whether she could, or should, slide her arm around his waist, too.

  Something had changed between them when she'd stumbled. They were resolutely not looking at each other. At least, she wasn't looking at him, but she was also sure the undercurrents flowing between them weren't just in her mind. It wasn't just her heart thumping in an irregular, fast-as-fast beat.

  She found her courage and tilted her head to rest it against the curve of his shoulder. Breathing him in, she resisted the impulse to rub her cheek against the fabric of his top like a filly nuzzling a friendly human hand, telling herself he needed the comfort of human contact right now. Always after a death she needed to touch people, hold someone. It was a way of confirming that she was still alive, still breathing, still had blood pumping through her veins. So what if there was an ulterior motive on her part? He didn't need to know she'd been aching for this closeness ever since he'd walked back into her life. This was something she could legitimately offer him, a gesture to benefit both of them.

  She could smell chili on him, a faint hint of herbs, and she swallowed hard, trying to control a mental image of lifting her mouth to him, tasting him. She gazed out across the water, trying to distract herself. This wasn't meant to be about her.

  Somewhere in the distance, the water met the inky night, darkness stretching across the sky, putting things into perspective for her, too. Her desires, her life, so all-encompassing to her, were, at the end of the day, very insignificant. An idea, more like intuition, crept upon her, a sense that since she was insignificant, her mistakes were, too. So where was the harm in taking a risk? Where would the harm be in making a play for Tom's heart? For gambling on the—admittedly remote—chance that he might be prepared to take a chance on her again, too?

  The timing might not be perfect, his mind was occupied with darker thoughts tonight, but the setting was right. And they were here, together, alone. Opportunity was knocking—she had to grab it while she had false courage from the canopy of night around then.

  Move one. She slipped an arm about his waist, waiting to feel his reaction, emboldened when he leant in a little closer, too.

  Move two. With her voice low, she said, 'Look up at the sky with me.' A thousand stars shone on their bed of dark velvet. ‘I wonder how many other people are looking at these same stars. It makes me realize how tiny we really are in the scheme of things.' She moved around to stand in front of him and her heart sang when his arms encircled her, his touch comforting, reassuring. And doing all manner of wicked things to her libido. 'There's only so much we can achieve in the face of all that, but we can always remember to make the most of every moment we have. What else is there?' Her words sounded a trifle stilted to her own ears but, then, she knew she was trying to sell him something, convince h
im to look at her and see for himself that she was there, his for the asking.

  A flash of white blazed across the sky. 'Look. A shooting star.' She closed her eyes to make a wish and, at once, her other senses took control. Big mistake. She could feel Tom's body heat radiating to her, his fingers at her waist, the salty sea air mingling with his scent, and she didn't have to form the words in her head to know what she was wishing for with every fiber of her being. She licked her lips, thinking again of tasting him. She opened her eyes to find him watching her, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth, a softer light in his eyes than had been there a moment ago.

  'You still do that.' The smile was in his voice now, too. 'What did you wish for?'

  She raised a finger to her lips, signaling secrecy. 'I can't tell or it won't come true.'

  Reaching forward, he lifted her finger away from her lips and towards his own, using it to trace a path around his mouth, skin on skin, before dropping a gentle kiss on the very tip of her finger.

  ‘I didn't know wishes could be granted so quickly,' she whispered, her voice husky, trembling, anxious that he might feel pressured and pull away.

  But he didn't let her go. Instead, he slid his hand up her arm and down her side, caressing her with his touch, drawing her close until he was holding her firmly, their hips pressed together, with the waves lapping near their feet.

  She could only hold her breath as he slid his other hand up her back, tangling it into the mass of her curls, cupping the back of her head as he moved his thumb in tiny, settling circles against her skull. She closed her eyes and relaxed into his caress, and she knew, before she felt it, that he was going to kiss her. He was moving towards her, she could feel the inches between them closing, the gap between their upper bodies becoming smaller. Without opening her eyes, she stood on tiptoe, mouth parted just a little, offering her lips to his.

  It felt like an eternity but she wanted the suspense to last forever. It was sweet and perfect and this exact moment would never come again, no matter what else there was in store for them.

  This delicious, electrifying feeling of the almost-there, standing on the proverbial cliff-top, knowing she was teetering on the edge of something wonderful. Every tiny cell of her body was alive, waiting for his touch and the intimacy of what was to come, and she wanted this moment to last.

  Her skin on fire. She opened her eyes and sought his until their gazes locked. Lips parted, her breath came in short, shallow bursts, every nerve ending fervid with anticipation, alive with the possibilities of the touch to come. Her expectations were almost painful, so intense was her reaction to him. Then he reached for her, ending the anticipation with one swift, sure movement, crushing her against him, body to body, thigh against thigh, her breasts flattened against his chest and his mouth coming down to cover hers.

  The magic of his kisses that she'd remembered was nothing to this all-encompassing assault on her senses, and she all but melted under its heat, the mastery of his kiss leaving those of their youth far behind. If it was possible for bones to become molten for a single second, she knew that was what happened in the first moment of being kissed by him again. She could hear someone sighing, again and again—was that her? His lips moved against hers and his hand came up from her waist to cup her face, to draw her closer, the better for them to drink each other in. Her hands roamed to his chest and rested there, feeling the strength of the broad expanse of muscle, leaning into him so she didn't stumble on legs that felt like liquid.

  The sound of the waves breaking, the sounds of their breaths, their soft moans wound themselves around her, wrapping them into their own world, space and time. Nothing else mattered; there was no room for thoughts of real life. She was absorbed by Tom, his kiss, this moment. This perfect, perfect moment.

  The kiss deepened, and as Tom moved his tongue against hers she opened her mouth in response, slipping a hand against the back of his head to pull him harder to her. Her hands were shaking, her senses threatened to consume her, his scent, the feel of him, the sounds of the night and the lapping waves, the soft noises of each other, the taste of his mouth all too much to comprehend.

  So she let the world stop as she responded to his soft full lips, and she could swear she could even taste their deep red color in her mouth, a tangible element. Blood red, the color of passion, the color of the flames of passion alight inside her. Her arms were about his neck, and she didn't remember moving them there; his arms were holding her close, one hand in the small of her back, one holding her face as he moved his mouth more insistently over hers.

  She opened her eyes slightly, wanting to see him, to imprint this moment on her visual memory, too, so she'd have it for always. He must have felt her looking at him, because his lids opened with languor, and the passion she saw in his eyes for the brief moment before he pulled away startled her. It was an admission she couldn't imagine hearing him speak out loud and she filed it away in her memory. If he was intent on walking out of her life forever, she'd have that unspoken statement that what had just happened had shocked him to his core, too.

  The amazement that had ricocheted through her at his kiss was almost matched by the feeling of loss once the kiss had ended, and had her debating whether to reach up to him again. But the moment had passed and now there was the question of what to make it of it, how to play it. Cool and casual? Take another chance and tell him how he'd just rocked her world?

  She was still making up her mind when he spoke. 'That was some kiss, Lexi.' His voice was rich and throaty. They were still facing each other but no longer touching. 'Not what I was expecting when I came to find you tonight.'

  'Is that a good thing or a bad one?'

  He reached for her hand and held it as he had before they'd stopped and kissed, before everything had become topsy-turvy.

  'Just a statement of fact.'

  What was she meant to make of his reply? 'I didn't think we'd be spending this evening like this either.' She took a breath and steadied her nerves. 'But I'm glad we did.'

  He arched an eyebrow in response. 'It could make things more complicated.'

  She shrugged and brushed a curl out of her eyes but resisted the impulse to trace a finger down the hard line of his jaw. 'It was worth it. '

  'It was.'

  Lexi wanted to ask where they went from there, but that was so female and wasn't that the first thing men complained about? One kiss and women wanted the whole game plan laid out? And did she really need to know? It would make no difference either way, because after that kiss she'd be a fool not to run with her earlier decision and make the most of Tom Edwards being in town, no matter what the terms. She'd come alive again, she could feel and see and hear, as if she'd just woken up from a deep slumber, and she had really. She'd been functioning on autopilot for a long time now. Tom had stirred her into life just by arriving back in her world and now, with one kiss, the slumber was over. No, it was more than that. Waking up felt like the rest of her life had just begun in full Technicolor. And it sure felt good.

  In the moonlight, Tom watched the clouds of Lexi's thoughts scudder across her face, one after the other, in quick succession. She was biting down on her lip, swollen from his kisses, looking like a thought had settled and she was debating whether to raise it. He didn't want her to. He'd spent a lot of time going over the day's events in his mind. One thing she'd said tonight had reinforced a thought already knocking about in his mind since this afternoon: life was short and it was for living. And that kiss had been like a marking pen ringing giant circles about the next conclusion: right now, living meant having Lexi. It would only be a brief interlude but he couldn't leave it at this with her.

  They had unresolved issues but the chemistry exploding between them just couldn't be ignored. He ran his hands down her arms, resisting the impulse to drag her back into his embrace and finish what they'd started. The question was: could they indulge their physical needs without resolving their emotional differences?

  Even as he posed
the question, he knew it was impossible. A meaningless fling wasn't what he was after and certainly not with Lexi. And, anyway, their past would make it impossible, it just couldn't be ignored.

  She shivered and wrapped her arms about her body, and he took the excuse to make a move, to cut her off before they had to dissect what they'd just shared and where it was going from there, because he simply didn't know the answer.

  'You're cold. I'll get you home.'

  She shrugged. Despite himself, he pulled her in against him, rubbing her bare arms. Feeling the softness of her skin under his fingers, he tried hard to think about something, anything other than how good she felt. He tried to breathe through his mouth so he wouldn't be bowled over by the fresh, apricot scent of her hair. It was a losing battle because her curls bounced to their own rhythm as they walked back along the beach and it was impossible to avoid their scent as they brushed against his face. He wouldn't be able to go near apricots now without thinking of her.

  Where did they go from here? He wasn't sure about her take on all this, but one kiss, one brief moment on the beach was going to be hard to settle for when he'd never shared a kiss like that with anyone. Was it the emotion of the way they'd parted five years before playing havoc with their minds? Or had it really been the single most amazing kiss ever? He was only here for a short while. He had nothing to offer beyond that and really he had little to offer while he was still here. Could they come to some truce over their past and indulge their attraction, however briefly? A casual fling. Could he do it? Could she? And, more unknown still, would she do it?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tom searched the drawers in the treatment room, looking for the needle he wanted. 'I can't find the size I want, Mr Symonds. I'll be back in a sec' His steps were light, the concerns of yesterday resting easier on his mind now he'd decided all they needed was an honest talk about their past. He and Lexi didn't have to be on the same emotional wavelength, didn't need the same views on life to find enjoyment in each other's company and be physically intimate. They just needed to clear the air.