The Christmas Wedding Quilt: Let It SnowYou Better Watch OutNine Ladies Dancing

by Emilie Richards

  He was suddenly holding air, nothing but space where warmth had been, and she was out of reach, shaking her head, one hand reaching up to touch her lips as though she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

  “What’s wrong?” he said, his body thrumming with desire.

  “This is a bad idea.”

  “Didn’t feel bad to me. Did it feel bad to you?” He took a step toward her, but she held up a hand.

  “Leo. Don’t, please.” She took a shuddery breath. “We both know you could seduce me if you really put your mind to it. But it wouldn’t end well, and I’d rather not go there.”

  “Who says it wouldn’t end well?”

  She dropped her hand to her side. “You would never have even known I existed if you hadn’t had your accident. You would never have glanced twice at me.”

  He flinched. “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”

  “Am I wrong? Go out with a lot of mousy librarians, do you?”

  “You’re not mousy.”

  She half turned away, drawing in a long breath. “You have no idea how much I want to just let this happen, but you’re going to go back to your old life soon. So let’s just be friends, okay? That way when you don’t call I won’t have to feel like an idiot.”

  There was something exquisitely fragile in the way she held herself and he understood what she was really saying—that he had the power to hurt her, if he chose to. That she already had feelings for him, and that if he pushed this, it had to be about more than curiosity and desire and a need for comfort and release.

  He was silent too long. She nodded, then turned away.

  “Drive carefully, Leo.”

  “Rachel—” A million thoughts and protests crowded his mind, stilling his tongue.

  “It’s okay, Leo. I understand. I really do.”

  She smiled sadly before opening her car and slipping inside. He took a step back from the curb as she started the engine and pulled out into the street. Then she was gone, and he was standing in the dark.

  CHAPTER SIX

  GOING TO GABBY’S house the next day was one of the hardest things Rachel had ever done. She wanted to cancel their sewing session with every fiber of her being, but Christmas was just over two months away and the quilt wasn’t going to finish itself.

  So, she put on her big-girl panties and she went. And when Leo answered the door, she gave him her brightest, friendliest smile and did her damnedest to act as though nothing had happened last night.

  “Great day. You can really feel summer in the air, can’t you?” she said as she brushed past him.

  His hand shot out, catching her arm above the elbow. “Rachel.” He lowered his voice, took a step toward her.

  Dear God. He’s going to kiss me again. And I am terrified that I will not stop him.

  “Can we talk about last night?” he said, his voice low.

  He smelled minty, as though he’d just brushed his teeth. Something he might have done at her place this morning—if she hadn’t backed off at a million miles an hour last night.

  “There’s not really much to say, is there?”

  He was standing so close. If she leaned forward an inch or two she could press her lips to the triangle of skin exposed by the V-neck of his T-shirt.

  “I wasn’t looking for a one-night stand, if that’s what you thought.”

  “Oh, I figured it would be more than one. Maybe a week or two. Until you were ready to go back to the city.”

  He frowned, his fingers tightening on her arm. “Rachel—”

  “Oh. I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” It was Gabby, wide-eyed and embarrassed as she reversed up the hallway.

  “We were just talking,” Rachel said quickly. “You weren’t interrupting anything.”

  She tugged on her arm and Leo let her go. She didn’t look at him as she followed Gabby into the rear living room. Her face was warm, and she noticed Gabby was embarrassed, too.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...” Gabby said, her gaze bouncing from Rachel to Leo and back again.

  “There’s nothing to realize. Honestly. We were just talking about a book.”

  It sounded lame, even to her own ears.

  “Well. Would you like a cup of tea?” Gabby asked.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  Gabby glanced at her son. “I won’t ask you if you want some, because you’ve got your fund-raiser thing to get to. Unless you’ve decided not to go?”

  “I’m going.”

  There was a grating, determined quality to Leo’s voice, as though he was girding his loins for the task ahead. She studied him, took in his set jaw and the closed-off expression on his face. She remembered then that he’d mentioned a family-day fund-raiser being held by his old crew, the proceeds of which would go toward Cameron’s fiancée.

  She hadn’t realized it was this weekend, though. He couldn’t not go, but she understood it was going to be hard for him.

  “Is Carrie going to be there?” she asked quietly.

  He’d spoken about Cameron’s fiancée at length during one of their walks, about how hard it had been to witness her grief.

  “I don’t know. Probably.”

  “Just...take it easy, okay?” she said.

  They locked eyes. More than anything she wanted to offer him the comfort of a hug. But last night’s kiss had ruined any possibility of that happening.

  “Okay.” He turned to his mother. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be home. I’ll call if it’s going to be late.”

  “Be careful on the road,” Gabby said. “They’re forecasting rain and it always seems to hit hardest down here on the peninsula.”

  “Will do.”

  Leo threw one last glance Rachel’s way before he left. Rachel fussed with her sewing things as she waited to hear the front door close. Only then did she let her shoulders relax.

  “Earl Grey or English breakfast?” Gabby asked.

  Rachel’s head came up. “Um, Earl Grey, thanks.”

  She watched Gabby set out cups and saucers, aware of the tension in the room. She was tempted to reiterate what she’d said before—that nothing was going on—but Gabby beat her to it.

  “This is silly. We’re all adults here, after all. There’s no need to pussyfoot around.” Gabby set her hands palm down on the counter and fixed Rachel with a very frank look. “I like you, Rachel. And I love my son. Normally, the last thing I would want to do is get involved in his romantic life. But I’m going to make an exception because I’ve really enjoyed becoming friends with you over the past few weeks. You’re a lovely, smart, attractive woman.”

  Rachel felt herself warming all over again. “Thank you. I’ve really enjoyed becoming friends with you, too.”

  “It never occurred to me that something might happen between you and Leo. Oh, in my fondest fantasies I’d love for him to fall in love with a woman like you. Someone with a big heart. But the sad fact is that Leo has always been a bad bet in that area, Rachel.” Gabby stared down at the counter. “I’m not sure what it is. Maybe he’s had it too easy with women all his life. Maybe there really is such a thing as being too handsome for your own good. I don’t know. But I do know that I would feel horrible and responsible if I let you embark on something with him without giving you fair warning. So here it is, my fair warning—my son sucks at commitment, so please don’t fall in love with him.”

  Rachel blinked, suddenly aware she was a hairbreadth from crying. “Okay. Thank you. Warning noted.” She hated the way her voice was thick with emotion.

  Gabby’s face crinkled with concern. “Don’t tell me it’s too late?”

  “No. I don’t think so,” Rachel said, taking a deep breath. “Close, but no cigar.”

  “I’ve upset you.”
<
br />   “You haven’t said anything I don’t realize already. I might be a librarian, but I’m not a nun.”

  “Well...good. I feel guilty and disloyal now, but Leo would be the first to admit that just the thought of settling down makes him break out in a rash. Which doesn’t bode well for my quest for grandchildren, sadly.” Gabby pulled a face.

  Rachel forced a smile. “Maybe he’ll meet someone one day and she’ll knock his socks off and everything will click for him.”

  The kettle clicked to announce it had boiled. Gabby crossed to collect it.

  “It’s a nice idea, isn’t it?” Gabby said wistfully.

  It was a nice idea. And maybe it really would happen that way for Leo. Somehow she and Gabby managed to get back on track for the rest of their sewing session. The practice border she’d been working on was her best yet. Just as well, given that she needed to ship the finished quilt panel back to Jo soon so her cousin had enough time to quilt the top to the backing before the wedding.

  Still, she felt distinctly flat when she left Gabby’s, and not even the prospect of collecting her finished costume from the dressmaker could lift her mood.

  Teresa had done a lovely job, creating a salsa-friendly version of a flamenco dancer’s dress, the hemline having been considerably lifted to allow for the movements of the dance, and she’d pared back the ruffles to just three rows. The central split was almost indecently high, but it wasn’t as though she was dressing for church. This was Latin dancing, after all—showy and sparkly and flashy.

  The pièce de résistance was the black fringing that formed the hem of each of the three ruffles. When she spun, the fringe would fly out, accentuating every movement of her hips and backside.

  It really was a glorious thing, and by the time she’d taken the dress home, hung it on the door of the wardrobe in the spare room and stared at it for half an hour or so, she was feeling quite a bit better. Tomorrow was going to be exciting and nerve-racking and fun. She would concentrate on that and ignore the ache in her chest that had started when Gabby had issued her warning.

  The storm that had been threatening all day finally broke at sunset, the last of the daylight smothered by thick gray clouds. The ominous sound of thunder made her shiver as she slipped into her pj’s before padding barefoot into the living room to fire up her laptop. She’d sent an email to Jo and Ella that morning to confirm plans for the delivery of the quilt panel to Jo, and she wanted to check to see if either of them had responded. She sat back on her heels when she saw Jo’s response.

  I’ve been thinking about this, and I have a proposal for you both. How do you feel about a trip to Hollymeade for Christmas? I’d love Olivia to be a part of this quilt, so maybe all four of us could get together like old times to finish the quilt together. And maybe Olivia will take pity on us and let us stay for the wedding, too.

  What do you think? Is it a crazy idea, or inspired brilliance?

  Rachel didn’t have to consider long to make her decision. Not so long ago, Leo had asked if she’d ever gone back home and she’d said there wasn’t much there for her anymore. That wasn’t true—she had three very good reasons to revisit her home. The chance to reconnect with her cousins in person, to play a part in the quilt’s final journey, would be a gift. A treasure.

  Inspired genius, I think you mean, she typed back. I’m in. Tell me when and where and I’ll be there. With sleigh bells on.

  She hit Send and went into the kitchen to make herself dinner with a big smile on her face. Christmas at Hollymeade. Finishing the quilt with her cousins. It seemed like the perfect way to end the quilt’s journey.

  Her thoughts turned to Leo as she pulled ingredients from the fridge. She wondered if he’d made it home yet, and what sort of day he’d had. She hoped it was better than he’d thought, that being with Carrie and his crew again had given him the push he’d needed to reengage with his old life.

  She was about to set the wok on the stove, when the sharp sound of a knock echoed through the house. She wiped her hands on a tea towel, then went to see who it was. Greg, perhaps, freaking out over tomorrow’s competition. She’d spent an hour counseling him on the phone the night before their previous heat.

  She peered through the spy hole. She couldn’t see anything but a set of broad shoulders covered by a sopping-wet navy shirt, but she instantly recognized who it was.

  Leo.

  She wrestled with the lock, then the door was open and he was standing there, hair plastered to his skull, clothes saturated, eyes dark with misery and confusion.

  “Leo. Come in,” she said, reaching out to draw him over the threshold.

  She shut the door on the wet, wild world outside and then faced him.

  “You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel...” She hustled down the corridor to the bathroom, returning with a couple of towels as she said, “What happened? Did your car break down or something...?”

  She stopped dead when she really saw him, the way he was staring at the ground, the hunch to his shoulders.

  It had been a bad day.

  She let the towels fall to the ground. She stepped forward and flung her arms around him, offering him the comfort of her body. He went very still for a moment, then returned her embrace, his arms closing around her fervently, fiercely. He lowered his head, pressing it into the crook of her shoulder, and she rested her cheek against his wet hair.

  “It’s okay, Leo. I’ve got you,” she said quietly.

  A shudder went through his body, and then he was holding her tighter, and his mouth had opened on her neck and she could feel the hot wetness of his tongue as he kissed her. She closed her eyes as desire rushed through her, accepting before he’d even lifted his head that this had been inevitable from the moment she’d opened the door to him.

  His mouth slid across her jaw, trailing kisses, and then he was tilting her head back, his tongue in her mouth. She gave him everything he needed and more, and then she slid a hand around to the nape of his neck and stood on her toes so she could whisper in his ear.

  “Come on, Leo. Let’s go to bed.”

  * * *

  SHE WOKE BY slow degrees, memories washing over her like the rising tide.

  Leo on her doorstep, soaked and despairing. That first kiss in the hallway, the feel of his hard, cold body against hers. He hadn’t been cold for long, though. Not once they’d stripped off his clothes and tumbled into her bed.

  She smiled a cat-that-got-the-cream smile. It had been wonderful. He had been wonderful. Tender and passionate by turns, utterly bent on her pleasure. So gentle and loving.

  The way he’d looked at her...

  The way he’d touched her...

  It had been perfect, and if last night had been the best of it, the best of them, if it was all downhill from here...well, then, so be it. She’d gone in with her eyes wide open. And she wouldn’t have done it any other way, because despite what she’d told Gabby yesterday, she loved him. That much had become clear to her last night. She couldn’t ignore his need. Not when it had been within her power to offer him comfort.

  Not that last night had only been about comfort. It had been about healing, and it had been about understanding and connection, and it had been about lust and desire.

  As she’d said, perfect.

  She could feel the heat of his body along the length of her spine, could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. If she moved her feet back, she could slide them down his long, hairy shins. Smiling to herself, feeling more than a little daring, she did so. His response was to snake a hand around her middle and pull her back against his chest.

  “Tell me again how mousy you are,” he murmured against the nape of her neck.

  He kissed her neck, which soon led to kissing other parts of her body, and before she knew it they were making love again, their bodies dappled by the sunligh
t streaming through her bedroom window.

  Afterward, she glanced at the clock and realized that she only had three hours until she had to be in the city for the dance competition. She bolted up, adrenaline surging through her. She’d been so absorbed in Leo that she’d forgotten how big today was.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “The dance final is in three hours. I need to have breakfast and get moving.”

  “You’re in a dance final? I thought you said you and Greg were beginners?”

  “We are. But we made the final.” She shrugged modestly.

  “Impressive.”

  She shrugged again, even though she was privately pleased by his praise. Sliding out of bed, she grabbed her robe and pulled it on, very aware of him watching her from the bed.

  “Do you want some breakfast?”

  “Sounds great.” He stretched his arms over his head, the action making his stomach muscles ripple.

  “Okay.” More than a little dazed by the display, she went into the kitchen.

  He looked awfully good in her bed. Comfortable and completely at home. She could get used to waking up with all that sexiness beside her.

  My son sucks at commitment, so please don’t fall in love with him.

  The memory of Gabby’s words stole the smile from her face as the danger of what she was doing hit her. It was one thing to say her eyes were open, to decide to take what she could from her time with Leo, no matter how long or short it might be, but it was another thing entirely to allow herself to be swallowed whole by the fantasy.

  Watching the bread starting to brown in the toaster, she realized she was going to have to be constantly vigilant with herself if she wanted to have a hope in hell of coming out of this whole.

  Who are you kidding? You’re crazy about him. No matter what happens, you’re going to be a mess.

  Her chest tightened painfully as she imagined how hard it would be to have Leo and then lose him. But it was too late—she’d made her decision last night.