by Lori Wilde
“Not now,” he said. “There’s time. All the time in the world.”
“Why does it feel so urgent?”
“Because it’s right,” he said huskily.
“How can this be happening? We haven’t seen each other in sixteen years, but bam! It’s as if not a day has passed since the first time you kissed me.”
“We have a connection, you and I.”
“Is it enough?” she whispered. “This isn’t just about you and me.”
He gave her another small kiss. “I know. Children complicate things.”
“But in a good way.”
He studied her. “You truly believe that?”
“More than anything.”
“We do have to move slowly, because of my kids, but I definitely want to keep headed forward. What about you?”
“Yes,” she said, her heart thumping madly. “Definitely.”
He cupped her cheek with his palm and ran his thumb along her jaw. “You’re something special, Christine Noble, you know that?”
“No more special than you.”
They parted regretfully.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.
“We’re taking it slow, remember? Day after tomorrow will do.”
He smiled slightly. “I can’t believe you’ve been here all along, just waiting for me to show up.”
“So close and yet so far.” She walked him to the door, then stood in the foyer watching him head to the car, knowing they were on the precipice of something big.
One thing was clear. Either they were going to have the love of a lifetime, or they were going to crash and burn as a couple and break each other’s heart.
On Tuesday night after he left Christine’s house, Eli tossed and turned and thought of nothing but her. The scent of her perfume—fresh as lemons, homey as vanilla, earthy as pecans—dominated his senses.
What was happening between them was spellbinding, but it was also a bit nuts. Chemistry. Sizzle. Whatever you wanted to call the attraction, it was happening too fast, and they’d been smart to back off. But even when Eli fell into a restless sleep, he dreamed of her. Hot, sexy dreams that had him calling out her name.
He woke with a start, his mind in two places. One part of him was resolved to keeping his distance, letting the fire die down so he could adequately assess his feelings. But another part of him wanted to jump in his truck, drive straight to her place, rip her clothes off and pepper her with kisses until they were blind with need.
“Daddy?” A sad little voice pulled his eyes open. Abbey stood in front of him looking forlorn.
Instantly, he sat up. “What is it, honey?”
“I tee-teed in my bed again.”
He threw back the covers, got out of bed. “It’s okay, honey. Don’t worry. We’ll get you cleaned up.”
Eli picked her up, wet panties and all, and carried her into the bathroom. As much as he wanted to tear off Christine’s clothes and ravish her, he would not. His children came first. He had to be sure of his footing with her, confident in their relationship, before he got his kids involved. That was going to take both time and patience.
He would wait. It was the only way this would work. Take their time. New Year’s. He’d wait until after Christmas, and then he’d call to see if she had plans for New Year’s Eve.
On Thursday evening, as Christine was closing up the bakery, she heard her name being called. A man’s voice, familiar but ragged, as if he’d sprinted all the way to Jubilee from Twilight.
“Chrissy.”
She turned to see Eli standing there. Her heart reeled. He looked like he hadn’t slept since the last time she’d seen him. His hair was mussed, his shirt rumpled, his hands clutched in front of him, fingers interlaced, as if to keep himself from touching her. Shoppers bustled by, laden with packages. There was a chill in the air, and the sky was clouded gray.
“Eli? Are you all right? Is something wrong?”
“I miss you,” he said.
“It’s only been two days since we saw each other.”
“I know. It’s crazy. Illogical.”
“It’s not crazy,” she murmured. “I feel it too.”
“My kids.” He motioned in the direction of Jubilee.
“I know. We discussed it. I’m content to take this relationship on your timetable. We won’t rush into anything.”
He looked relieved. Took a step closer. “I feel—”
“Out of control?” she finished for him, moving in his direction.
“I feel like I’ve been given something precious, and all I have to do is close my fingers around it, and it’s mine, but I can’t move my hand. I’m paralyzed with wanting. I’m not accustomed to this feeling.”
Cars motored by on the street, but they could have been standing on an island, so focused were they on each other.
“I’m afraid to trust it,” she admitted. She had to curl her hands into fists to keep from reaching out and touching him.
“Me too.” He jammed his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders against the wind, but he did not drop her gaze. A horse-drawn carriage pulled up and deposited a family of laughing tourists.
“Would you like to take a ride?” He inclined his head toward the carriage.
She should have said no, but instead she nodded.
“Okay.”
All over town, the Christmas lights were starting to wink on. Eli climbed into the carriage and held out his hand to Christine. She put her foot on the step, and he hauled her inside. They sat on the same side of the carriage, and Eli drew the warm blanket up over them as the carriage driver clicked his tongue and the Clydesdale moved forward, his hooves clip-clopping over the cobblestones.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Eli said. “About Twilight’s sweetheart legend.”
“You mean the legend that says if you throw a penny into the fountain and wish for it, you’ll be reunited with your high school sweetheart?”
“That would be the one.” He slipped an arm around her shoulder and she snuggled against him. “Most people in town seem to believe it, and you’ve got to admit, it’s pretty compelling.”
“But we weren’t high school sweethearts.”
“We could have been. We should have been.”
“We weren’t.”
“If I could go back in time,” he said. “We would be.”
“Got a DeLorean parked out back, do you?”
“Back to the Future. I get it. Funny. We don’t need a DeLorean, Christine.”
“Don’t we? It’s the only way I know of to rewind the past.”
“We could start from right here, right now. We could get a penny, throw it into that fountain, make that wish.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Nothing’s certain. If I’ve learned anything from Rachel’s death, it’s that nothing in life is certain.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm on her cheek.
“You’re going to kiss me again, aren’t you?” Christine ducked her head.
“If you’ll hold still long enough.”
“You shouldn’t kiss me. I don’t want you to kiss me.”
“Liar,” he whispered. “You want it more than anything.”
“You weren’t this cocky in high school.”
“Yes I was. You just forgot.”
“I didn’t forget one damn thing about you, Eli Borden.”
“Ah,” he said. “You had a crush on me.”
She held up a thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. “Not that much.”
“I had a crush on you, too.”
A shiver ran up her spine. Why hadn’t he told her?
“Technically, that makes us high school sweethearts, since you had a crush on me, and I had a crush on you.”
“W
e never dated.”
“Wasn’t from lack of desire.”
“So why didn’t you ask me out?”
“You were just a sophomore.”
“Oh, right. Couldn’t tarnish your senior reputation by hanging out with a sophomore.”
“What can I say? I was shallow back then. Peer pressure meant everything.”
“And you expect me to believe you’ve changed?” she teased.
“I have.” He dipped his head closer. “I just want to be with you.”
There were a thousand reasons why she should say no, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a single one of them. “Eli,” she whispered.
His mouth claimed hers, and Christine was a goner. They kissed under the blanket for the remainder of the carriage ride. When the driver pulled to a stop back in front of the bakery, they didn’t stop.
The driver cleared his throat. Loudly. Twice.
“Okay,” she said lazily. “You can come home with me.”
“I knew my kisses would convince you.” Eli grinned.
“Cocky man.”
“Don’t you know it,” he said shamelessly.
“I’m so easy.” She moaned. “Hurry before I reconsider and change my mind.”
“Not easy,” he murmured, his fingers toying with the top button of her blouse. “Sexy.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” She did the button up again.
“Not at all.” He unbuttoned the button again and pressed his lips to her heated skin at the pulsating spot in the center of her chest, just above her cleavage.
“Ride’s over,” the driver said pointedly. “That’ll be thirty-five dollars.”
Eli paid him. They climbed from the carriage. Holding hands and laughing all the way, they rushed to Christine’s cottage as fast as their legs would carry them.
CHAPTER FIVE
Once Christine’s front door closed behind them, they looked at each other. They did not say another word. Just melted into each other’s arms.
It was as if they were caught up in something beyond them. Something magical. Fate. Destiny. Whatever word fit, they felt it.
In a fever-pitch daze, they stroked and touched, caressed and kissed.
Then abruptly, Eli broke away. His hot eyes bore into hers, and suddenly Christine felt impossibly shy. She ducked her head. Felt naked while fully clothed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing at all. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just . . . you’re so beautiful.”
She cast him a sideways glance, her skin heating up. He sounded so sincere. Like he really did think she was beautiful.
“I have scars.”
“Everyone does. Some on the inside, some on the outside. But sooner or later, life knocks a chunk out of us all.” He reached out to cup her chin in his palm and lift her face up to his. “You’re even more beautiful because of the scars. You’ve suffered and survived. You’re a true heroine.”
It was hard for her to take compliments seriously. Compliments made her wary, but Eli appeared deadly earnest. He kissed her again. He tasted like cool peppermint and hot chocolate.
Tentatively, she traced her tongue along his bottom lip. She slipped her fingers through his thatch of thick hair. She wanted this. Oh yes! But she was scared. What if it all went awry?
Her thoughts were like a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle thrown into the air. Making love with Eli would be like piecing that puzzle together in front of a warm fire on a cozy December night, making everything whole for a little while. But the fate of a puzzle was to be disassembled, swept into a box, broken back into pieces, and stored on the shelf.
He nibbled her bottom lip, gently rolling it between his teeth. She stepped back. Instantly, he released her.
They stood staring at each other.
“This is probably a bad idea,” she said.
“Probably.” He nodded.
“You live in Jubilee. My business is in Twilight.”
“It’s only thirty miles. Not exactly a long-distance relationship.”
“That’s the question, Eli. Is this a relationship? Or are we just having a good time?”
“Is it necessary to label it?”
She supposed not. “I don’t know what I want.”
“I do know what I want,” he said and started unbuttoning her blouse. “You.”
She did not stop him.
“But if you don’t want me to go further, just say the word.”
She did not say the word.
He made a noise of approval low in his throat, and then they were kissing again, Christine doing her best to ignore the turbulence sloshing around inside her.
His hand centered at the nape of her neck, holding her in place.
She opened her eyes, took a peek, saw that his eyes were wide open, too. His irises were the color of aged whiskey, rich and potent.
Her heart thumped in her throat. They were moving so quickly. Too quickly. This wasn’t smart. Not a good idea. Yet here she was, doing it anyway and loving every minute of it.
She’d waited so long to have Eli in her bed. Now that the opportunity was here, how stupid would she be to turn her back on him? She didn’t know where her boldness came from, but suddenly it was there. She took his hand and led him into her bedroom. It was warmer in there, friendly as a hearth fire on a cold winter morning. She kept the vents open wider in the bedroom, because she didn’t like to be cold as she slept.
They kissed again in the shadows of the scented nightlight, which sent the aroma of coconuts through the room.
“It tastes like Hawaii in here.”
“You’ve been to Hawaii?”
“With Rachel,” he said. She wished she hadn’t asked. “On our honeymoon. My parents paid for it. We couldn’t afford the trip ourselves. We were only nineteen.”
“How come you got married so young?” she asked, knowing she was breaking the mood, but powerless to stop herself from asking questions. How much did he mourn his wife? Was he too damaged to move forward? Was she hoping for too much?
“Rachel was pregnant with Sierra.”
“She was the love of your life.”
Eli’s gaze was unflinching. He did not blink. Did not glance away. “She was the mother of my children.”
“So.” Christine gulped. “Not a passionate love match.”
“We grew to love each other.”
“You married her because it was the right thing to do.”
“Yes, and I don’t regret it, but with Rachel, I never felt—” he broke off and finally looked away.
Never felt what? She wanted so desperately to ask, but she did not. If he wanted to tell her, he would. Pushing would either make him resentful or make him lie.
Something rubbed up against the back of her leg, and Christine was so startled by the soft flick of fur that she had to bite back a squeal.
“What is it?” Eli asked, concern darkening his eyes.
“My new cat,” she explained, feeling shaky. She bent down and scooped up Butterscotch, deposited the cat outside the bedroom door, and shut it tight. When she turned back around, Eli looked poised for flight.
But instead of leaving, he moved across the room toward her, covering the few yards in one long-legged stride.
“Chrissy,” he murmured in the darkness, and the next thing she knew, he was undressing her. When her dress was unbuttoned, he dipped his head and pressed kisses all over her chest.
She wriggled. Giggled.
“Ticklish?”
“A little.” She squirmed.
“Ah, you need a firmer touch.” The feather-light strokes of his tongue vanished, morphing into firm, demanding licks.
“Eli, Eli,” she chanted.
She heard the crinkle of a foil wrapper, as his erection
pressed hard against her. He was prepared. He’d come with protection. Not that he needed it with her.
His scent filled her head, claimed her world. His mouth was soft and warm. His tongue wicked. He laid her down on the bed. They were both sweetly naked. He pinned her with his gaze as his body entered hers.
Their joining was exquisite. He moved slowly, deliberately, taking his time, easing sweet moans of pleasure from her lips with leisurely strokes.
“More,” she pleaded. “More.”
But Eli was calling all the shots. Each time she tried to urge him to go faster, tried to spur him onward or push him more deeply inside her, he resisted. “Slow,” he whispered. “Slow down. Enjoy every second of this.”
“You like torturing me,” she accused.
“Only in the best way possible, sweetheart.”
“I can’t take anymore.”
“I want you as crazy, out-of-control for me as I am for you.”
If that’s the way he wanted it, then fine. She would let him have his way. Christine sank her head into the pillow and opened herself up to him fully, allowing her legs to drop open.
“Sweet Chrissy,” he murmured. The entire time, he moved deliberately, excruciatingly slow.
She gave him full control. Trusting him. It felt demented, letting herself go. Releasing her fears. Trusting Eli. Trusting the sweethearts’ legend. Trusting her own heart to not lead her astray.
Opening her eyes, she watched his face as she surrendered to him absolutely. As her climax swelled and rippled through her in surge after infinite surge, pure satisfaction and extreme gratitude flashed in his eyes.
“We’re going together,” he said. “You and me. Hang on, sweetheart.”
She clung to him, rose and dove with him, strapped her legs around his waist and drove him into her. She wrapped her arms around him. Eli.
Christine gave herself to him in a way she’d never given herself to another. She set aside her fears. Let him see into the depths of her soul. He’d imprinted himself in her heart sixteen years ago. This was a new chapter. A fresh start. She belonged to him now, and there was no turning back.
Eli slipped his arms around her waist. Ah! She felt so good pressed against him, firm breasts, sexy hips, taut belly, her head nestled against his shoulder. He held her close for a long time, neither of them moving.
