A Christmas Seduction

by Daire St. Denis

  Crawling back into the bed, she fluffed some pillows behind her, plucking one from Thad’s side of the bed and burying her face in it. She breathed deeply of his scent—divine—before propping it on her knees as a makeshift writing desk.

  She opened her journal and began to write. Some of what flowed from her fingertips was the truth, a recounting of their love affair; some of it was completely made up. In today’s entry, Thad was a fugitive on the run, a man with a troubled past hiding out in Montana, and she was his captive.

  A willing captive.

  She rubbed her knees together, her imagination going wild. He’d kidnapped her and spirited her off to the old ghost town, because she knew too much and threatened to expose him. He meant to kill her but his desire for her was too overpowering. Finding themselves in close quarters, the attraction became too much for both of them and they ended up having wild kinky sex right there on the floor of the old hotel. She was just finishing up the scene when Jolie heard footsteps outside on the wooden stoop.

  She quickly finished her thought and closed the journal, leaving it on the small nightstand. She was of half a mind to pretend to be asleep, because she longed to be “woken up” by Thad in the same way he’d roused her yesterday. However, the place was too small and she was too slow. Thad was already standing in the doorway, gazing in at her.

  “Morning, sunshine.”

  “Morning.”

  “Did you sleep?”

  She shook her head.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. I ended up getting some work done.” Okay, maybe it wasn’t work, exactly, but she’d been productive. She smiled as she let the covers drop, revealing the fact she wasn’t wearing anything.

  Thad leaned against the door frame, his stance casual, his gaze anything but. “I need a shower.” His voice was gruff.

  “So do I.”

  “Do you, now?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s convenient because I happen to have one.”

  “Do you, now?” She repeated his phrase, doing her best imitation of a Southern drawl.

  He stalked into the room and for a second, Jolie thought they might forgo the shower, because he stood beside the bed, his gaze sliding hotly over her bared breasts before settling on her face. “C’mon, then.” He winked and turned toward the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he went.

  Oh, yes, she could definitely get used to this.

  * * *

  IT WAS A beautiful day, the kind that made Thad glad he’d chosen Montana to hide. The sky was clear and appeared bluer because of all the fresh snow covering the ground and hanging heavy from the trees. The perfect day to take a group out snowshoeing. Apparently everyone staying at the ranch felt the same way, because the whole crew was there. Everyone except Curtis.

  He’d willingly stayed back to do some tinkering with the front-end loader. It wasn’t necessary work, but Curtis was a loner, even more so than Thad, and the man was probably glad to be back at the ranch on his own.

  They’d all driven out as far as they could along the forestry road that led to Silverton. Once parked at a dead end, they suited up with the snowshoes the Crosses had rented for just this purpose.

  “Eventually, I’d like to have our own,” he overheard Gloria saying to Jolie as they started to make their way along a nearby trail. “Cross-country skis, too. We’re thinking of building a ski shack on the other side of the pond and grooming our own trails. We’ve already got the snowmobiles, but the track setter wasn’t in the cards this year, though that’s the plan.”

  “You’re running an amazing operation here,” Jolie said reassuringly. “I can guarantee you’ll be booked to capacity next winter after this article comes out.”

  Thad caught Gloria’s eye and she smiled, giving him some kind of meaningful look. What the hell did that mean? The woman was hot then cold. Unlike Jolie, who was cold...then hot. He switched focus to the woman in question, ready to give her a suggestive wink.

  His smile dropped.

  She had her phone up in front of her face, taking his picture.

  Oh, fuck, no.

  He snowshoed closer. “Whatcha doing, Ms. Jolie?”

  “The lighting is perfect.” She smiled. Oh, she could get away with so damn much with that adorable smile, but pictures were one thing he could not allow.

  “It is, isn’t it?” He held his hand out for her phone. “Let me take some shots of you.” He indicated behind her where a snow-covered peak rose majestically. “You need to be in your own article.”

  She handed the phone over and Thad made a show of taking a bunch of pictures from different angles. “How about the whole group now?”

  Before taking the shot, Jolie explained to everyone that if she included the photo in her article, she’d need everyone’s permission and they’d have to sign waivers. No surprise, everyone wanted to be in the shot. Who didn’t want to be immortalized in print?

  Thad, that’s who. Which was why he was the one with the camera phone.

  He took a bunch more shots, wanting to bury what he’d done.

  “It’s a fine day for pictures,” he said, handing the phone back to Jo. “You should get lots of good ones today for the article.” He hurried on, needing to distract her before she went scrolling through the images on her phone.

  With Dillon in the lead, the group set out again and Thad made sure to keep Jolie in his sights. He couldn’t afford another sneaky pic, not that he’d ever give her permission to use it, but just knowing there were pictures of him out there roaming around on someone’s phone, computer, cyberspace. No way. Couldn’t happen.

  “This is a pretty different landscape from Louisiana, isn’t it?”

  “Yep,” he said, feeling relieved when she tucked her phone away. “You ever been down there?”

  “Just to New Orleans on spring break.”

  “You go crazy on Bourbon Street?” he asked gruffly.

  “Not like my friends. I was too busy doing walking tours. You know—ghost tours, cemetery tours, plantation tours, that kind of thing.”

  He quirked a brow. “Touristy stuff?”

  “Maybe, but better than wasting an entire trip at a bunch of cheesy voodoo bars, flashing strangers for cheap beads.”

  His gaze landed on her chest and the idea of his Jolie flashing any part of herself to some horny drunk made his gut burn.

  “I loved the music, though.”

  “Yeah. Great music scene.” He tried to imagine Jolie wandering around his hometown. It somehow made him feel closer to her, thinking that they’d walked the same streets, seen the same sights, maybe even been inside the same bars listening to music. Together. Only separated by time.

  Sha, he was getting too philosophical for his own good. “You get your fortune read?”

  She shook her head. “Nope.” She sniffed, like it was a ridiculous question.

  “What?”

  “I don’t believe in that stuff.”

  “You don’t believe?” He stopped, letting Kaylee and Evan pass. Taking her hand, he removed her mitten and turned her palm up, gently flattening her hand and gazing at it as if reading a book.

  “If you say I’m going to live a long and healthy life with lots of travel, I’m going to punch you.”

  Chuckling, he said, “I’m many things, but I’m not a charlatan.” He traced the lines on her hand. “It’s as simple as our life experiences getting imprinted in our skin, just as they do in our hearts an
d our souls.”

  She frowned up at him.

  “Okay, this is your dominant hand, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, the lines on this hand relate to the destiny you create. This—” he indicated the line between her thumb and index finger by following it “—is your life line.”

  “And what does that line say about my life?”

  “You see where it’s forked here? That means that you’re surrounded by split or conflicting energies and your path will or already has been redirected.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “This one is your head line and let me just say, Ms. Jolie, yours is very interesting.”

  “Oh, brother. Why’s that?”

  “You see here where it’s chained? That means you’re conflicted and confused. And then down here it forks, this is called a writer’s fork and means you’re extremely creative and imaginative.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re using information you already know about me. That’s called cheating.”

  Thad shook his head, leaned in and whispered, “The lines don’t lie.”

  She shivered and Thad was certain it was not due to cold. “Now, I’ve saved the best until last. This...” He followed the line that ran beneath her fingers. “This is your heart line.”

  “Uh-huh? Pray tell, what does mine say? I’ll meet a man named Thad and have wild, passionate, no-strings-attached sex. Then I’ll leave brokenhearted and never love again?”

  “Why, Ms. Jolie, you do read palms.”

  She tried to tug her hand free but he held on, running the tip of his finger lightly along the line again. “You’ve got the best heart line there is.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It’s long and curved, which means you’re sensitive...” He grazed the backs of his fingers over her palm and she sucked in a breath. “Warm...” He took her hand and held it to his cheek. “Intuitive...” His gaze met hers, and then he curled her hand around his and kissed the backs of her knuckles gently. “And passionate.”

  Her chest rose and fell as she stared into his eyes.

  “Though you may have a naive belief in happily-ever-after.”

  She yanked her hand out of his and pulled her mitten back on. “Where did you learn such nonsense?” She started walking again, following the trail of snowshoe prints. The rest of the group had moved beyond their line of sight.

  “My grandmother had a shop in the French Quarter. She read palms—among other things—for a living.”

  “No way. And she could get by doing that?”

  “Of course. She came from a long line of fortune tellers.”

  “I thought you said you were Cajun.”

  “I said I was a little of this and a little of that.” He grinned as he caught up with her. “A purebred mongrel.”

  She smiled back. “You’ve never been back, huh?”

  Shit. Thad realized too late how much he’d revealed. He’d never told anyone else about his grandmere. Never talked about life in NOLA. But with Jolie, it just came out, easy as anything.

  “Naw. Nothing to go back for.”

  “You must miss it, though. And your grandmother? You must miss her.”

  A damn rock got lodged at the base of Thad’s throat. It was a stone made of anger, guilt and shame, and he hurried on ahead, not wishing to continue the conversation and having no cooperating vocal cords to change it either. Thank God the group was gathered up ahead in a clearing.

  “There you are,” Dillon said. “We thought this would be a good place to build a quinzee.”

  “What’s that?” Jolie asked curiously.

  “The word is native Alaskan for snow cave,” Thad supplied, removing his pack and issuing collapsible shovels to whoever wanted to help.

  “Me, me, me!” Zak cried, being the first to grab one.

  Jolie’s eyes lit with interest. “So, how do you make it?”

  “Pile up snow.” He indicated the area. “Find straight sticks and stick them in all about the same distance around. Let the snow settle and then dig a cave.”

  “What are the sticks for?”

  “They’re a guide so you don’t make the shell too thin or it’ll collapse.”

  She beamed at him. “You really do know a lot about pretty much everything.”

  “I been around, Ms. Jolie. I been around.”

  “Hey, chatty,” Colton called, dumping a shovelful of snow on Thad’s feet. “You going to help or just flirt?”

  After giving Jolie a kiss on the cheek, Thad joined the others, shoveling snow into a pile while Jolie went to help Gloria and Catherine find sticks of a suitable length.

  It must have been twenty minutes later, when the pile was almost high enough, that Jolie called, “Hey, Thad?”

  He glanced up.

  “Smile.”

  She took his picture and another and another. After lowering the phone, she said, “That’s for all the ones you deleted.”

  14

  While a journal is a traveler’s best friend, be careful not to leave it lying around for prying eyes to find.

  Jo Duval

  JOLIE RELAXED AGAINST the edge of the hot tub. Two critical differences this time around. First of all she was wearing a bathing suit, which was important because, second, she wasn’t alone.

  “Dad, can we make a quinzee at home? That was so cool! We could even sleep in it. Thad said so.”

  Simon smiled. “Sure, Zak. We could do that.”

  Kaylee poked a toe out of the steaming water and watched the steam roll off her foot into the cold night air. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but this has been the best vacation.” She turned to Evan, whose lap she was basically sitting on, and said, “I had my doubts, but this was a good call.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy, babe.”

  Touching her forehead to his, Kaylee whispered, “The best first Christmas ever.”

  Everyone had someone. A father, a son, a new husband. What did she have? Jolie glanced at the empty seat beside her. She had a holiday fling that was going to end in a few days, that’s what.

  “You look awfully serious,” Kaylee said, nudging Jo under the water.

  “I was just thinking that this is the best Christmas holiday I’ve ever had, too.”

  The young woman grinned slyly. “It helps when you’re in love.”

  “I’m not in love.”

  “No? In lust, then?”

  “Dad, what’s lust?”

  Jolie blushed, though the heat from the tub probably covered it up.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t tease you. Evan and I met on a vacation, too, you know.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. One of those ski trips.” She turned back to her new husband. “Two years ago.”

  “Best years of my life.”

  Simon coughed. Whether it was to remind the newlyweds that a minor was present or because he was jaded about love, Jo couldn’t tell.

  Out of nowhere, a snow missile plopped into the tub, splashing everyone and making Zak squeal.

  “Speak of the devil,” Kaylee said, giving Jo a meaningful look.

  Thad stood on the other side of the deck, another snowball poised in hand, ready to throw.

  “You coming in?” Kaylee called, asking the question Jo had on the tip of her tongue.

  “Naw. I gotta go get cleaned up. But y’all enjoy and maybe I’ll surprise you again later.”

 
“How you going to surprise us?” Zak asked eagerly. “Another snowball?”

  “Son,” Simon said quietly, “I don’t think he was talking to you.”

  Just as Thad turned to walk away, Jolie leaned over the edge of the tub, grabbed a handful of snow from outside, formed a quick ball and chucked it at Thad’s retreating back. It hit him square between the shoulder blades.

  He slowly turned with an appreciative grin on his face. “Was that you, Ms. Jolie?”

  “Maybe.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Pretty good arm on ya.”

  Suppressing a grin with a twist of her lips, she said, “Thanks.”

  “For a girl.”

  * * *

  THAD TOWELED HIMSELF off after stepping out of the shower. Seeing Jolie in the hot tub brought back all kinds of memories. Was it possible it was six days ago he’d first caught her in the raw? Holidays were like that, he supposed. The days just seemed to be jammed packed, so they seemed longer. It brought people close when every day was filled with excitement.

  He glanced down at his own growing excitement. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the mere thought of the woman aroused him. It’d been a long time since that had been the case. He dressed quickly before things got out of hand, and stretched out on the bed, waiting things out until he could go over there and sneak into the lovely Jolie’s room.

  Nothing made a man feel more like a randy teenager than sneaking into a woman’s room. Thad chuckled. Not that the sneaking was really necessary anymore, but it sure was fun.

  Would she be waiting for him naked again? He sure as hell hoped so.

  Thad reached for the book on the nightstand, a thriller he’d picked up at the secondhand store in Half Moon Creek, but instead of a book, his hand landed on the journal Jolie had given him for Christmas.

  He opened the drawer of the nightstand and found the pen. Maybe he’d jot a few stories down while he waited.

  At first Thad was confused when he opened the cover, because the journal was nearly full with feminine handwriting. Then he realized this wasn’t his journal. It was hers.