“Damn it, you know I love you.” He closed his lips over hers briefly before easing back and resting his forehead against hers. “I can’t live without you, Chels. I don’t want to even try.”
“I—”
“Wait.” He shifted back to look at her once again, but he didn’t let go. “You need to know that I’ve turned everything over to Nathan. I’ve also launched my own investigation into who could’ve helped Dusty because I agree he didn’t act alone.”
Tears pricked her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but they spilled over. Gabe gathered her against his chest, rubbing his hand up and down her back. He took the candle from her hand as she clutched his shirt and attempted to pull herself together. How could she, though, when everything she wanted was right here? The risk she was about to take would change her entire life.
“You really love me,” she murmured.
She felt the soft rumble of laughter reverberate through his chest. “I really do. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Chelsea slid her arms up and wrapped them around his neck. Pressing her lips to his, she held him tight, never wanting to let this moment go. The moment when he confessed his love, the moment when she decided to let it all go and trust in what they’d built.
“Tell me again,” she muttered against his mouth. “Tell me you love me.”
Gabe slid the pads of his thumbs over her damp cheeks. “No one will ever love you more. I ached when you left. That’s how I knew what we had was real. The pain was too strong to be just casual. I want to build a life with you, Chelsea. No matter what we’re doing or where we live, I want it with you.”
“I want my life with you, too.” Chelsea smiled. “But you should probably know I’m going to be opening a counseling center for young adults.”
Gabe’s eyes widened then he smiled. “That’s a great idea.”
“No. It’s not just an idea. I bought the building, I’m searching for counselors now, and I want this up and running by spring. The focus will be on teens suffering from depression, anxiety, and suicidal tendencies.”
Gabe kissed her hard, fast. “You’re so damn remarkable, darlin’. Of course, you’re already on the ball with this. Tell me what to do to help and I’m there.”
Chelsea threaded her fingers through his hair. “Love me. That’s all I need to get through.”
The singing started up behind them. The cheerful chorus quickly spread through the street. The magical evening had begun and she stood in her lover’s arms. Right now, nothing could destroy her happiness.
“I’ll always love you, Chelsea. Always.”
She went up onto her toes and kissed him. “I love you more.”
Epilogue
“What are you thinking?”
Chelsea lay beside him, her head on the pillow. Soft moonlight filtered in through the blinds he’d left open because he’d wanted to make love to her by the pale light.
After a month of bouncing from her house in Pine Valley to his loft, he’d finally asked her to move in with him. But he knew they’d eventually get their own place and start fresh. Actually he didn’t want to wait much longer.
“Gabe?”
He smiled at her, reaching up to stroke her hair away from her face. Touching her, watching her while she slept, just the mundane things they did together, made him anxious, and he was done waiting to ask.
Gabe leaned back and reached into his nightstand, pulling out the small velvet box. He tapped the remote on the nightstand one time, to add the softest light in the room. He wanted to see her face, but he didn’t want harsh light to ruin the moment.
Chelsea gasped when he rolled back over and she saw what he was holding.
“I had something elaborate and romantic planned for next week, but—”
“Yes,” she squealed.
Gabe laughed. “Will you let me at least ask?”
Chelsea shot up in bed, the sheets pooling around her waist as she took it from him. “No. I want to marry you, now. This minute.”
Shaking his head, he took the box back. “We’ll get to that, but let me be somewhat of a gentleman here.”
He lifted the lid, keeping his eyes on hers. “Since you already answered, I guess I should tell you that your brother already approved this.”
Her eyes darted from the ring to him. “You talked to Daniel?”
“Considering he had his doubts about us a month ago, yes. Besides, I always thought a man should ask permission from the father of the woman he wants to marry. For you, I knew I should go through Daniel.”
Chelsea’s eyes misted as she looked back at the ring. “It’s a pearl. It’s lovely, Gabe.”
He felt a little silly now since he hadn’t gone the traditional route with a diamond.
“I saw the pearl and immediately thought of how they’re made. How they’re the toughest, yet come from something so soft. It just reminded me of you.”
She took the ring, but he tossed the box onto the covers and plucked the ring from her hand. “I’m at least putting this on you.”
When he slid it onto her finger, she held it up and admired the way it looked on her hand.
In the last month so much had happened in their lives. Gabe had worked closely with Nathan and discovered that Dusty’s once lover, whose husband had been on the TCC board, had indeed been the one to help plant the cameras. She apparently had divorced her husband some time back and was still secretly involved with Dusty, claiming her love until his death.
Her home had since been searched and all hard drives and any computers taken. Charges were pending and Gabe was confident Nathan would handle matters from here on out.
Maverick’s reign of terror was indeed over. The town had moved on. Chelsea was gearing up to open her counseling center by late March and Brandee was completely on board with joining forces in the project, as well.
“I don’t want a big wedding,” Chelsea told him, reaching over to join their hands. “Something simple at the Crescent Moon is perfect for me. For us.”
Gabe leaned forward and kissed her, sending them tumbling back to the pillows. “We can discuss wedding plans later. I want to celebrate.”
Chelsea laughed as he jerked the covers up and proceeded to show her just how happy he was that she’d said yes.
* * * * *
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BEST MAN UNDER THE MISTLETOE
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***
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The Christmas Baby Bonus
by Yvonne Lindsay
One
There, let that be the last tartan bow to be tied, Faye begged silently as she stood back and eyed the turned-wood balustrade that led to the upstairs gallery of the lodge. Swags of Christmas ribbon looped up the stairs, with a large tartan bow at each peak.
Not for the first time, she cursed the bad luck that had seen her boss’s usual decorator fall off a ladder and dislocate her shoulder a week before Piers was due to arrive at his holiday home here in Wyoming for his annual Christmas retreat and weeklong house party.
Faye had suggested he go with a minimalistic look for the festive season this year, but, no, he’d been adamant. Tradition, he’d called it. A pain in the butt, she’d called it. Either way, she’d been forced out of her warm sunny home in Santa Monica and onto an airplane, only to arrive in Jackson Hole to discover weather better suited to a polar bear than a person. So, here she was. Six days away from Christmas, decorating a house for a bunch of people who probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Except for her boss, of course. He loved this time of year with a childlike passion, right down to the snow.
She hated snow, but not as much as she hated Christmas.
She turned slowly and surveyed the main hall of the lodge. Even her late mother would have been proud, Faye thought with a sharp pang in her chest, before she pushed that thought very firmly away. The entire house looked disgustingly festive. It was enough to make a sane person want to hurl, she told herself firmly, clinging to her hatred of the season of goodwill. There was no reason to be sad about being alone for the holidays when she hated the holidays with a passion, right?
At least her task was over and she could head back to the sun, where she could hide in her perfectly climate-controlled apartment and lose herself in her annual tradition of binge-watching every Predator movie made, followed by every Alien DVD in her collection, followed by any other sci-fi horror flick that was as disassociated from Christmas as it was from reality.
She moved toward the front door where her compact carry-on bag was already packed and waiting for her retreat to normality and a world without decorations or Christmas carols or—
The front door swung open and swirl of frigid air preceded the arrival of her boss, Piers Luckman. Lucky by name and luckier by nature, they said. Only she knew what a hard worker he was beneath that handsome playboy exterior. She’d worked for him for the past three years and had the utmost respect for him as a businessman. And as a man...? A tiny curl of something unfurled deep inside her. Something forbidden. Something that in another person could resemble a hint of longing, of desire. Something she clamped down on with her usual resolute ferocity. No. She didn’t go there.
Piers stomped the snow off his feet on the porch outside then stepped into the lobby and unslung his battered leather computer satchel from one shoulder.
“Good flight?” she asked, knowing he’d probably piloted the company jet himself for the journey from LA to Jackson Hole.
He had no luggage because he always kept a full wardrobe at each of his homes peppered around the world.
“Merry Christmas!” Piers greeted her as he saw her standing there and unzipped his down-filled puffer jacket.
Oh, dear mother of God, what on earth was he wearing underneath it?
“Weren’t you supposed arrive on Saturday, the day before your party? You’re four days early,” she commented, ignoring his festive greeting. “And what, by all that’s holy, is that?”
She pointed at the gaudy hand-knitted sweater he wore. The reindeer’s eyes were lopsided, his antlers crooked and...his nose? Well, suffice to say the red woolen pompom was very...bright.
A breathtaking grin spread across Piers’s face.
Faye focused her gaze slightly off center so she wouldn’t be tempted to stare or smile in return. The man was far too good-looking, and she only remained immune to his charms because of her personal vow to remain single and childless. That aside, she loved her job and getting a crush on her boss would be a surefire way to the unemployment office.
After all, wasn’t that what had happened to a long line of her predecessors? It wasn’t like he could help it if personal assistants, who had an excuse to spend so much time with him, often found him incredibly appealing. He was charming, intelligent, handsome and, even though he’d been born with a silver spoon lodged very firmly in that beautiful mouth, he wasn’t averse to working hard, overseeing his empire with confidence and charisma. The only time Faye had ever seen him shaken had been last January, when his twin brother had died in a sky-diving accident. Since then he’d been somewhat quieter, more reflective than usual.
While Faye had often felt Piers had been a little on the cavalier side in his treatment of others—particularly his revolving door of girlfriends—he’d become more considerate over this past year. As if Quin’s death had reminded him just how fleeting life could be. Even Lydia, his latest girlfriend, had been on the scene far longer than was usual. Faye had even begun to wonder if Piers was contemplating making the relationship a permanent one, but then she’d received the memo to send his usual parting gift of an exquisite piece of jewelry in a signature pale blue box along with his handwritten card.
It was purely for reasons of self-preservation that she didn’t find him irresistible, and she was nothing if not good at self-preservation. Besides, if you didn’t have ridiculous dreams of happy-ever-after then you didn’t see them dashed, and you didn’t get hurt—and without all of that, you existed quite nicely, thank you.
“This?” he said, stroking a hand across the breadth of his chest and down over what she knew, from working with him at his place on the Côte D’Azur where swimwear replaced office wear, was a tautly ripped abdomen. “It’s my great-aunt Florence’s gift to me this year. I have a collection of them. Like it?”
“It’s hideous,” she said firmly. “Now you’re here, I can go. Is there anything else you need me to attend to when I get back to LA?”
* * *
Piers looked at his erstwhile PA. He’d never met anyone like Faye Darby, which was exactly why he kept her around. She intrigued him, and in his jaded world there weren’t many who still had that ability. Plus, she was ruthlessly capable, in a way he couldn’t help but admire. It might have been cruel to have sent her to decorate the house for him for the holidays—especially knowing she had such a deep dislike
of the festive season—but it needed doing and, quite frankly, he didn’t trust anyone else to do it for him.
And as to the sweater, although his late great-aunt Florence had knitted him several equally jaw-droppingly hideous garments in the past, the truth was that he’d seen this one in the window of the thrift store during his morning run and he’d fallen in love with it instantly, knowing exactly how much Faye would hate it. The donation he’d made to the store in exchange for the sweater was well worth the look on Faye’s face when he’d revealed the masterpiece.
But now she was standing there, having asked him a question, and waiting for a response.
“I can’t think of anything at the moment. Did you send the thank-you gift to Lydia?” he asked.
Another thing he probably should have dealt with himself, but why not delegate when the person you delegated to was so incredibly competent? Besides, extricating himself from liaisons that showed every sign of getting complicated was something best left to an expert. And, goodness knew, Faye had gained more than sufficient experience in fare-welling his lady friends on his behalf.
To his delight, Faye rolled her eyes. Ah, she was so easy to tease—so very serious. Which only made him work that much harder to get a reaction out of her one way or another.
“Of course I did,” Faye responded icily. “She returned it, by the way. Do you want to know what she said?”
Piers had no doubt his latest love interest—make that ex-love interest—had been less than impressed to be dusted off with diamonds and had sent the bracelet and matching earrings back to the office with a very tersely worded note. Lydia had a knack for telling people exactly what she thought of them with very few words, and he would put money on her having told him exactly where he could put said items of jewelry.
He also had every belief that Faye agreed with Lydia’s stance. The two women had gotten on well. Perhaps a little too well. He cringed at the thought of the two of them ganging up on him. He wouldn’t have stood a chance. Either way, he would stick firm to his decision to cut her out of his life, although he’d had the sneaking suspicion that Lydia would not give up as easily as those who’d gone before her.
Best Man Under the Mistletoe Page 16
