Once Upon a Holiday

by Beverly Jenkins

  Camille had spent most of the early part of Friday evening rambling out loud to no one but her empty room and herself at the absent Gideon she couldn’t stop thinking of.

  At one point she’d stopped and grabbed the handout he’d given the class, where he’d given his cell phone number in case of emergency. Plopping down on the arm of a chair, she’d chewed at her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth, thinking.

  She needed to get him out of her system, one way or another. She’d thought of calling, but each time she’d dialed the number, she’d pressed the End Call button on her phone, disconnecting before the call could go through.

  She’d called her mother instead, hoping she’d give her perspective on the situation. She and her mother were close, more like sisters than mother and daughter, and talked about everything.

  However, their conversations had been brief since she’d been in Houston. The two times she’d phoned, her mother had within minutes hurriedly gotten off.

  When her father had passed, it had been hard, financially and emotionally, for both her and her mother. Yet, together, they’d survived, leaning on each other for support. Because of their close relationship, Camille worried when she would have to move to Houston in three months, permanently. She didn’t know what her mother would do without her.

  “Sweetheart,” her mother broke in, before Camille had been able to spill everything on her mind. “I love you, you know that. I’ve always wanted the best for you. After your father died, it was just you and me, and you’ve always been there for me…. you’re a good girl.”

  Camille smiled, already feeling better with just the few words. Her mother continued, “But, baby, now it’s time for you to have some fun. It’s time for both of us to, sweetie!”

  It was then that Camille heard a very masculine voice murmur in the background before she heard the receiver on the phone muffled. But not so well that she didn’t hear her mother giggle.

  When her mother returned to the phone, she said, “Look, baby, mama’s gotta go. Uh, some of the ladies from the church auxiliary are here to discuss the fundraiser….” She stopped, and again Camille heard a male voice and her mother’s responding giggle before she said a quick, “I love you, and it’ll all be okay, baby!” and hung up the phone, leaving Camille with a dial tone humming in her ear, her mouth gaping open in confusion.

  After an hour of staring at the TV, Camille tried hard not to analyze what was really going on at her mother’s house. She gave up and started getting ready for bed, when the hotel phone rang.

  Camille sat on the edge of the bed, hesitant to answer the phone, knowing it was Gideon. She drew in a deep breath and answered.

  “Can we start over, again?”

  She sat back on the bed, crossed her legs underneath her, twirling the cord between her fingers.

  “My name is Gideon Taber, and I would love to take you out,” he said simply. A smile, a real one, tugged her lips, before blossoming into a full grin. She scooted her body until her back bumped the pillows against the headboard.

  “Hi. My name is Camille Jackson.” She paused before continuing. “But you can call me Cami,” she said, almost shyly.

  When she heard the smile come through his voice when he spoke next, she relaxed fully, stretching her legs out on the bed.

  When he asked her if she’d spend the day with him tomorrow, like an adolescent being asked out on her first date, Camille’s grin grew even wider as she snuggled down into the plush comforter and agreed.

  “What do you have planned?”

  “Why don’t we play it by ear?”

  Normally Camille balked at playing anything by ear. She was a planner, down to the bone, an “if I don’t have it on my day planner it ain’t happening,” type of planner.

  So when she heard herself respond with a “sounds great,” she didn’t know who was more surprised, she or Gideon.

  “Great! Dress casually. I’ll pick you at 11:00 a.m. And we’ll see where the day takes us,” he said, and after saying goodbye, they hung up.

  As Camille waited for Gideon to arrive, she was a mass of nerves, wondering if what she wore was okay, unsure where he was taking her. To say she was out of her comfort zone was putting it mildly.

  In the end she’d chosen a halter-back yellow sundress, topped with a cropped, cream-colored, crochet-styled sweater. Both the style and color complimented her figure. Tapering in the waist, the skirt flared and fell just above knee level.

  She’d thrown on a few accessories, a delicate silver bracelet and matching necklace, diamond studs in her ears, and light makeup, hoping what she’d chosen would work no matter where they went.

  The appreciative gleam in his eyes when she opened the door assured her she had.

  “Wow…you look beautiful,” he said, running his gaze over her.

  “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she said, smiling up at him.

  She’d only seen him in business casual clothes—dress slacks and shirt—but today he looked as though he could have stepped out of any Gap ad, wearing relaxed fit jeans, slightly worn, a thin, long-sleeved, gray T-shirt, the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, and a pair of loafers. The overall look was casual and sexy.

  “I thought we could go on a picnic. I know the perfect place.”

  It was then that Camille noticed the basket he was carrying, and as her stomach growled, she laughed. “Sounds perfect. What’s in the basket?” she asked, walking to his side. “Um, I can smell it! Can I have a peek?” she asked, reaching out to lift the lid. “I’m starving!”

  “Me, too,” he murmured, his voice slightly husky, and Camille glanced up at him. “But what I’m hungry for isn’t in the basket.”

  When he pulled her into his arms, she eagerly went, opening her mouth, hungry for him.

  His tongue snaked out to deliver a swipe across the entire length of her mouth, before he grabbed her bottom lip with his mouth and suckled it, slowly allowing it to pop back out.

  “Hmm…delicious,” he murmured against her mouth.

  Camille wrapped her arms around his neck and heard the thud of the basket as it hit the floor at the same time he placed his arms around her waist and hauled her tight against his hard body. Their bodies flush, Camille could feel every hard ridge of him against her.

  With a low growl he ground against her. The kiss took on a life of its own as their bodies merged against each other. Lifting her until her feet left the floor, he allowed her body to glide back down, their tongues performing a sensual duet mimicking the action of their bodies.

  When he finally pulled away, freeing her lips, he trailed his tongue to her ear, biting down on the lobe, and suckled it into his mouth. “God I missed your mouth,” he said in a raspy voice against her mouth.

  “I hope you like strawberries. I thought we could have them topped with cream…and you…for dessert.”

  “Oh,” she said, her eyes widening as he gently pulled away from her.

  On wobbly legs she walked to the counter and grabbed her purse and allowed him to lead her out of the room, not sure she could walk steady by herself.

  A short kiss and a few well-chosen words, and once again Gideon had sent her body into a lust-filled overdrive.

  Chapter 9

  “This looks like a good place to land. What do you think?” Gideon asked, hunching down and placing the basket on the soft grass.

  He’d brought her to the Buffalo Bayou Park, and as they’d strolled along the winding paths, he’d put on his “tourist guide” hat, pointing out the various sites as they walked, including the art park where local artists had their work displayed.

  “Yeah, it’s perfect,” she said, smiling down at him. With a grin he withdrew the blanket and spread it on the grass, patting it, inviting her to sit down.

  Along their walk, they’d stopped at a vendor’s cart and he’d bought them hotdogs and drinks, but once he lifted the lid, the aromatic smell hit her, reminding Camille how hungry she was.

  Rubbing her
hands together, she asked, “What do you have for us…besides the strawberries?” she asked, and immediately blushed.

  He laughed. “Maybe we can skip the main course and go straight for dessert? I’m game, if you are,” he said, his mouth stretching into a lecherous grin. Before she could react, he’d reached out for her hand and tugged her down onto the blanket. She tumbled into his lap, laughing as she righted herself.

  Camille’s stomach growled loudly. “As tempting as that sounds—the whole dessert thing first—I think I’ll go for what’s in the basket. For now,” she qualified and again blushed.

  He gave her a wink. “Later,” he promised.

  She ducked her head and waited for him to open the basket. When he didn’t, she glanced at him. His attention was on her hair. Self-consciously, she brought a hand up, and he stopped her.

  “I like your hair like this.” He moved her hand away and fingered several of the curly strands that had escaped her ponytail. “You should wear it like this more often. It suits you.”

  Camille had forgone flat-ironing her hair that morning. Instead, after showering, she’d used her favorite hair butter and allowed her kinky curls to do their own thing, something she rarely did at the workplace.

  “Thank you,” Camille said simply, yet Gideon saw the faint blush warm her skin and hid a grin. For all the confidence she displayed in the corporate world, there was a side of her that he could make blush at the slightest compliment or whenever he kissed her.

  Gideon broke their gaze, resisting the urge to pull her into his lap to do just that—kiss her. Kiss her until she blushed all over her body, something he’d wanted to do the entire morning.

  He reluctantly allowed her hair to slip from his fingers and withdrew the food he’d packed.

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I may have gone a bit overboard. One thing I did pack that I think you’ll like are these,” he said, and smiled when her pretty face lit up and she clapped her hands together, grinning from ear to ear as he withdrew the bag of Cheetos.

  “Ooooh! You even got the flaming hot ones! I think I’m in love! How did you know those are my favorites?” Although she said it light-heartedly, Gideon felt as though he’d been punched in the gut.

  He stared at her, wondering when, how, it had happened. When had he started falling in love with her…?

  “Hey…are you okay?” she asked, a puzzled look on her face when he didn’t respond.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He forced a smile. “The Cheetos? I saw them the night I came to your hotel room. You were eating them in bed.”

  He didn’t realize until now how he’d made mental notes about everything to do with her from the moment they’d met. He noticed everything, nothing escaping his attention. From the way she bit at her bottom lip when she was nervous, to the fact that she ate flaming hot Cheetos in bed at midnight.

  God, he had it bad. How had he not seen it coming?

  “Well, that seals it. I’m going to have to keep you around,” she quipped and opened the bag as Gideon smiled weakly.

  He wanted to grab her, take her far away and tell her how he felt, tell her he wanted more, much more with her, than the rest of the week they had together. He wanted more…

  As she placed the food on the blanket, telling him how she’d first discovered her love for flaming hot Cheetos, he sat staring at her, wondering how he could tell her how he felt.

  He’d had a hard enough time convincing her to go out with him this time. How in the hell could he tell her he was falling in love with her?

  Earlier in the morning she’d been on guard and stiff with him. But within a short time she’d loosened up, so much so that when he’d pulled her hand into his as he’d played tour guide, she’d allowed the casual intimacy. When he’d wrapped an arm around her waist, she’d even leaned into his embrace and in turn wrapped an arm around him.

  He’d kept the conversation light, finding out small things about her. He learned her likes and dislikes from her favorite type of music—the two of them shared a love for jazz—to her favorite junk food, flaming hot Cheetos, which he already knew, and yet another thing they shared in common.

  As they ate, he told her he was Jewish and the youngest of five children—and the only boy—and groaned at her laughter. He regaled her with tales of his life growing up, while he found out that she was an only child and that her father had died when she was in her teens.

  “I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to be a part of a large family.”

  “Being the only son and youngest in a Jewish family has its challenges. You ought to see the pains my mother has gone through trying to set me up with a ‘nice Jewish girl who’ll give my bubeleh lots of fat grandbabies’,” he replied, lifting his voice mimicking his mother as they began to eat. “Her bubeleh?” she asked, trying to keep her face straight as she pulled a muffin from the basket.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, his face reddening, “It’s a, uh, Yiddish word for child…one I’ve never heard anyone actually use. Except my mother.”

  When she laughed outright, the dimples in her cheeks creasing, he pulled her into his lap. Taking the muffin from her hand, he fed it to her instead.

  “You think that’s funny, do you?” he said, lifting a brow.

  “Yep. I think it’s absolutely hilarious!” she laughed swallowing the food in her mouth.

  “Well, wait until she meets you. We’ll see who’s laughing when she starts asking you when you plan to give her bubeleh those healthy grandbabies!”

  At his retort, the laughter died from her eyes and she quickly swallowed the last bit of muffin. Easing herself from his lap, she dusted the muffin crumbs from her hands and stood.

  “Well, uh, since I’m not a nice Jewish girl, I don’t see that as a problem.”

  “Mom doesn’t care about that. She just wants to see me married, and happy…and of course the babies,” he said, and immediately the image of Camille’s stomach heavy with his baby came to his mind.

  He stood, reaching out a hand to her, pulling her around to face him.

  In her eyes he saw a glimmer of something that made his heart slam in his chest, a look that told him she might have had the same thought, the same image he’d had, in her mind as well.

  They stood staring at each other, neither one able to look away, until finally Camille turned away, looking at the remnants of the picnic.

  “Well, me meeting your family won’t happen for a long time. For now, we’d better get ready to go. It’s getting late,” she said with a tight smile, looking at the sky and the dwindling sun.

  Although she tried ignoring his mentioning meeting his family, the fact that she didn’t completely dismiss the idea outright was a step in the right direction and gave him hope that she would eventually admit her feelings for him were growing as strong as his were for her.

  After the picnic, he’d taken her on a short tour of Houston, ending at Bojangles Blues Bar for a light dinner and drinks as they listened to a live blues band perform. After the tense moment at the picnic, the rest of the day had been relaxed, and they returned to the lighthearted banter they’d had earlier in the day. By evening, Camille hadn’t wanted the day to come to an end.

  When he’d told her about the renovations he’d done on his loft and invited her to come and see it, she knew the visit was more than a desire to show off his carpentry skills.

  The love he had for his family and how hard he’d worked to achieve his success in his business were all things she admired. Overall, Gideon was someone she knew she wanted to get to know better, someone she could actually see herself having a future with.

  She shied away from the thought, even as she remembered his remarks at the picnic, sure he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded.

  And she’d been right.

  Face-down on his large, king-size bed, her naked skin caressed the silk sheets, his hard body blanketing her body.

  Camille felt a slight tremor run through her body when he ran the
tips of his fingers down her bare back along the length of her spine until he reached one round cheek.

  Her eyes feathered closed and blew out a soft sigh when his breath whispered against the back of her neck, quickly followed by his lips and tongue.

  She allowed her head to tilt to the side when he pressed his mouth to the side of her throat, his hands coming up to slide under her dress, fingers trailing up her thighs, until he reached the waistband of her panties.

  “May I?” he asked, eliciting a small laugh from her. With her nod, he slipped a finger inside her panties, his finger brushing over her mound, stroking her slick opening.

  A strangled gasp tore from her throat, and her body arched, her breasts pressing against the silk sheets, when his wicked tongue mimicked the trail of his fingers, ending at the indentation of her waist.

  “I didn’t notice this the first time we made love.” She felt his smile against her skin, referring to the tattoo she’d gotten in college when she was in a band. Her one, private rebellion, the small tattoo rested at the base of her spine and featured a set of drums below a pair of drum sticks.

  “I think I will,” he said, in response to the words scrolled over the drums, “tap this.”

  A breathy laugh escaped from Camille, followed by a moan when he outlined the tattoo with the tip of his tongue.

  “Yesss…” she hissed, her breath rushing out with a sigh of pleasure when his tongue lapped against her skin.

  He continued with his tongue, stroking down her leg, repositioning her so he could reach her inner thighs. With his hot, wicked tongue, he swirled over the cream that had eased down her leg making, her squirm beneath his touch on the sensitive skin.

  When he flipped her over, gazing at her, she unconsciously placed a hand over her mound, covering herself.

  He grasped both of her hands and shackled them within one of his, before pulling them up and over her head. “Don’t hide your sweet, beautiful body from me,” he admonished, before his tongue swept over the crest of her breast, making her nipple spike and her body arch sharply off the bed.