A Match Made at Christmas

by Patty Blount

  “You sure you don’t mind walking?” he asked while they waited to cross a street. “We could take the subway.”

  She shook her head. “I hate the subway.” She worried that he’d heard the note of fear in her voice and wasn’t letting go of her hand because of it. Damn, even through her gloves, she felt how cold his hand was. She sandwiched his between both of hers, rubbed briskly, and was rewarded with a quick grin—still devastating despite its brevity.

  They turned a corner and she skidded to a halt. Her jaw dropped and she pointed across the street. “That’s not—”

  “Hook and Ladder 8? Sure it is.”

  She slapped his arm. “Come on! It looks just like—”

  “Because it is.”

  Her eyes popped and her jaw dropped. “Get out!”

  Lucas raised his eyebrows. “So you’re a fan?”

  “Are you serious? I’ve seen that movie a hundred times.” She stared at the famous Ghostbusters firehouse. “I had no idea it was a real fire station.”

  “And you call yourself a New Yorker.” Luke shook his head and took out his phone. “Stand there and smile.” Elena did a game show hand gesture. He snapped a picture and handed her the phone. “Here. Put your number in so I can send you that.”

  They walked on. It took no more than twenty minutes to reach the baby shop. Elena examined all the crib sets before picking out one that would be a perfect match to the wall art Kara had in the baby’s room.

  “Okay, baby bedding—check. What’s next, boss lady?” he asked with a grin as they walked down the street.

  When the Salvation Army volunteer they’d just passed called out a happy thank you, Elena halted in the middle of the sidewalk. “Did you just—”

  She slid him a look, about to rib him, and remembered Debbie had said Lucas hated people knowing about all his good deeds. “Just what?” he asked, his voice as cold as the temperature.

  “Never mind. Come on.” She shook her head. “Let’s forget the groceries. I’ll pick up just what I need for cookies and we’ll order something in.”

  He frowned down at her. “You’re in a hurry.”

  “I am,” she admitted like she’d just been caught robbing a bank. “I feel sick about making Kara cry. I want to make it up to her before she comes home. I want to buy her a tree and a star for the top, and lights, and everything that goes on trees. I want her and everybody else to stop hating me.”

  Lucas abruptly tugged her to a stop and turned to face her. “Nobody hates you.”

  I hate you! I wish you’d drop dead!

  She put her hands over her ears, but that did nothing to stop the echo of words shouted a long time ago. She wanted to crawl into the sewer because he was wrong—people did hate her. In fact, she hated herself.

  You ruin everything, Laney.

  “Before, when you said I’m not nice. You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “I was a real brat when I was a kid and this morning’s little incident proves I still am.” She wished her mom were there to tell her it was okay, that she knew Elena didn’t mean what she’d said, that she knew Elena was sorry.

  He moved closer, his hands squeezing her shoulders. “I’m willing to amend that assessment.”

  “Seriously?” She stepped closer, put a hand on his chest. “You’d do that?” When he nodded, she clapped and flung her arms around him. “Oh, thank you, Luke!”

  Lucas Adair may very well be too good to be true, but he made something deep inside her believe in magic.

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  “Where do we start? Where do city people buy Christmas trees?” She put her hands on her hips and looked up and down the street.

  When Elena Larsen wasn’t being deliberately aggravating, Lucas decided she was sweet. And beautiful. He looked at her with a wry smile. “You act like you haven’t—” And his laughter faded when the truth struck him between the eyes. “How long has it been, Elena?”

  Her face went flat and the light left her eyes. “I haven’t done Christmas since my mother was killed. I avoid the city, the holidays. My friends. Kara came back here for school but—” She held out her arms. “This city…for me, it’s death and, and destruction and hate and—” She broke off, shook her head and lifted a shoulder. “They don’t understand. Our friends are mad at me, she’s mad at me—”

  “I get it.” He stopped her with a touch to her cheek. He sucked in a deep breath and got ready to step onto shaky ground. “Pain, grief—they’re isolating things, you know? They’re so huge, they eclipse everything and make you think nobody else feels what you feel, but that’s wrong. Everybody does, Elena. Everybody. When I figured that out, when I finally talked about it, things—”

  “Got better?” she asked with a roll of her eyes and Lucas understood she’d heard this before.

  For a long moment, he considered lying and finally shook his head. “No. Not better. Just less huge, you know?” When she looked at him sideways, he shrugged. “Honey, it’s like a club that should never have members but it does and membership means there’s a certain amount of…of common ground.” He finished with a wave toward the Freedom Tower.

  She let out a long sigh. “I’m trying. I really am.”

  He put down the shopping bag and took her in his arms. “Elena, I know you are. I think it’s incredible—you’re incredible—that you’re here now and trying to do things for Kara.”

  To his surprise, her arms circled him and she put her head on his shoulder. “For all the good that’s doing,” she murmured into his jacket. “I hate that I made her cry.”

  Lucas held her a moment longer, the old familiar fury straining the leash he’d kept it on for the last decade. He pushed it away and tried to focus on her, instead. There was something about her…something almost familiar in a way. She smelled like vanilla and he thought of the Christmas cookies she’d yet to bake. She felt warm and comfortable in his arms. His arms tightened around her because he wanted to make her laugh, make her feel safe. He wanted that like he wanted his next breath.

  Al would insist it was a sign, he concluded. But then again, she wasn’t staying. She’d been clear on that. So what kind of cosmic practical joke would point him toward a woman who would leave as soon as they got comfortable around each other?

  So you have to work at something for once.

  He went still. He could swear the voice in his head was his mother’s. Every muscle in his body tensed and he brushed it aside. Instead, he made a decision. Made a wish. He pulled away from Elena, cupped her face and leaned back so he could see her. “Okay, new plan. What is the happiest memory of Christmas you have?” She frowned and tried to look away, but he wouldn’t allow that. “Tell me.”

  She took a deep breath, laughed out a cloud of vapor. “Baking, because Kara sucks at it. Baking cookies was the one thing I shared with my mom.”

  He could work with that.

  “Well, that and watching sappy movies,” she added.

  “Cookies. Movies. And hot cocoa. Pretty sure I mentioned I make the world’s best hot cocoa.” He smiled slowly, pleased when her eyes focused on his mouth.

  Her lips curled. “The world’s best? Come on.”

  “Okay, okay. Widely admired? How about damn good?” He delivered the last with a little tickle, happy when she squealed and wriggled away. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll hail you a cab and you go back to Kara’s, start those cookies. Leave the tree to me. With luck, we’ll get it all done before Kara’s back. Deal?”

  She looked up at him with such an expression of hope in her eyes, his breath caught. She was all bundled up in her coat, a scarf wrapped around her neck, wearing her hat with the tiny wreath pinned to it, and it suddenly hit him like a falling brick that she could be his.

  If he could convince her to stay.

  When she was all entranced by the magic of Christmas trees newly decorated, he’d invite her to shop with him to put presents under it. He’d make her his famous hot cocoa. He’d show her Radio City a
nd Rockefeller Center. He’d take her through Central Park in a carriage. He’d prove to her that New York was still New York—even with its scars.

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  He smiled—full wattage. His mother had called his smile his superpower. She’d sure paid enough for it—first braces, then a crown for a tooth he’d chipped playing hockey. It was now photospread-perfect and he hoped it wouldn’t fail him now. Elena was special—he wasn’t sure how yet—but now that they’d returned to civility, he was determined to find out.

  He stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle that had a cab pulling over in seconds. “Anything you want me to add to my list?”

  Elena shook her head. “Nope. I’ll head over to the market, grab my list of ingredients—oh! Milk Duds. I need Milk Duds.” She laughed at his confused look, climbed into the cab, settled her shopping bag beside her. “It’s what Kara’s been calling her baby bump.”

  “Milk Duds. Okay. See you later.” He ran a thumb along her jaw, waited for another smile and closed the cab door, then waved as the cab merged back into traffic, before he began to jog down the street, prepared to find the tallest, lushest tree he could afford.

  * * *

  “Thanks for the assist, Al. Couldn’t have done this alone.” Lucas held out a hand to his friend.

  “No problem, man.” Al returned the grip. “So…do I get fed or what?”

  Lucas laughed. “I have it on good authority that there will be cookies.”

  They wrestled the tree through the outer door and Lucas pressed the buzzer for Kara’s apartment.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Lucas and company.”

  There was a laugh and then the inner door buzzed. The two men shoved their greenery into the elevator and squeezed in after it.

  “Press 4.”

  “Press—are you insane? I’ve got a tree branch itching to take out an eye.”

  “Pansy.” Lucas shifted the tree, Al grunted, cursed. He managed to press 4 and hold his breath.

  “You so owe me for this.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Quit bitching and heft.” When the door slid open, Lucas all but tumbled out of the elevator at Elena’s feet.

  “Is that a tree or the whole damn forest?”

  “Little help here?” Al’s muffled voice called out from the elevator.

  When Elena looked startled, Lucas quickly added, “Oh, that’s Al. He’s helping.”

  She laughed. “Hey, Al!” Elena peeked inside the elevator, saw nothing but evergreen and a few hands.

  “I smell the cookies.” Luke patted his stomach.

  “Two batches done, a third in progress. Come on in. I’ll fix you guys a plate.”

  Elena tried to grab the tree trunk but Lucas thrust a couple of bags at her instead. “Tree stuff.” He grinned and followed her inside Kara’s apartment, Al trailing behind with the top of the tree. “What’s this?” He glanced into bowls of red and green batter.

  “Rainbow cookies.”

  “I love those,” Al moaned. “Promise me you’ll save me a few.”

  Elena smiled. “Deal.”

  Lucas moved to the wall of windows in the living room, cut the twine off the tree with a pocket knife. “Okay, I’m thinking right here, in the center.”

  “Oh, that’s pretty.” Elena pressed her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide. “It’s beautiful. And big. Very big.”

  “It’s perfect. Come on. Let’s get it in the stand.”

  With a grunt, Al tilted the tree upright in front of the window while Lucas rooted around in the bags for the stand he’d bought. It took a few minutes of grunting and hefting and adjusting, but the tree was soon secured in its stand.

  “Perfect. Okay, time for cookies, then we’ll hang the tree lights.” He unwound the scarf from his neck, shed his jacket, tossed it on the sofa. Al did the same.

  Elena crossed to the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen, grabbed a spatula and slid fragrant sugar cookies onto a plate, then put it on the table by the sofa.

  “Oh, wow.” Al shut his eyes as he bit into a cookie, while Luke shoved one in, too.

  When there was nothing left but crumbs, the guys unwrapped several boxes of light strands and began winding them around the tree while Elena refilled the plate.

  “Now this,” Al said with his arms spread, “is a beautiful tree.”

  “It is, it really is.” Elena covered her mouth. “I hope she likes it.”

  The tree was a fragrant spruce that just skimmed the ceiling. The lights twinkled around ornaments and little baby booties and socks and t-shirts Elena had taken from the chest of drawers in the second bedroom where the crib was now beautifully dressed and waiting for its tiny inhabitant.

  “Have you guys seen this?” Al held out Kara’s baby name book to Luke.

  “I know my name.”

  “Not the name, smart ass, the meaning.”

  Luke humored his friend. “Light giving. So what?”

  “Elena, look at yours.”

  She took the book, flipped to the girls’ name section. “Shining light.

  “I repeat, so what?” Lucas spread his hands.

  Al rolled his dark eyes. “Your names mean the same thing. Don’t you think that has to mean something?”

  Lucas snorted out a laugh. “Something. Look, Al. Elena’s already said she’s only here for a few weeks. We’re just hanging out. No pressure.” He looked to her for confirmation. When she nodded, he sighed in relief.

  Because he was relieved, he told himself.

  Al looked from Lucas to Elena and back again. “Yeah. So. It’s late—” Al stood up, stretched.

  “It’s six-thirty.”

  “—and I’ve got stuff to do, so I’m gonna just hit the road, ice this newly acquired hernia and—” he started moving toward the door.

  “Al, stay. I’m making dinner.”

  “—finish that book I’m supposed to read for my book club. Goodnight!” He opened the door and with a wink, was gone.

  There was a moment of silence as Luke and Elena looked at the door and then at each other and then burst into laughter, collapsing on to the couch together. When she caught her breath, Elena met Luke’s eyes and asked the question burning a hole through her head. “Do you believe all that sign stuff?”

  Lucas knew a set-up when he saw one. He shrugged. “Sure. But not to the extent Al does.”

  Elena’s forehead puckered. “What kind of signs?”

  He turned, pulled a leg up on the sofa. “Things that remind me of my mom.” And he didn’t like the look on her face so figured a change of subject would be really helpful right about now. “Come on. Let’s get that dinner going.”

  She managed a tiny grin and nodded. In Kara’s kitchen, they diced up onions and peppers and whipped up some spicy fajitas they ate sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. Lucas snatched the remote control and scrolled through the movie options.

  “Oh, this one’s great!” He cued up A Christmas Story, settled back next to her. “If Milk Dud’s a boy, would you let him have a Red Rider BB gun?”

  “Are you kidding? He’d shoot his eye out.”

  Lucas laughed. “You’re such a mom.”

  “I am not! I’m an aunt—or about to be.”

  He scoffed. “Come on, admit it. You’re gonna spoil him rotten.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Not me. I’m a hard-ass.”

  His eyes immediately skimmed down her body, stopping at her butt. It didn’t look hard at all. It looked soft and incredibly sexy. “What do you think the baby is?”

  Elena swallowed some water and thought about that. “I think it’s a girl.”

  “A niece. Bet you can’t wait to play Barbies with her.”

  Elena made a face. “Oh, hell no. I hated Barbies. No, I can’t wait to show her baby’s first computer. We need more women in IT.”

  “No argument here.” Luke put up his hands. “Want to know what I think?” He put down his fork,
skimmed his thumb along her jaw. “I think you’ll be the best aunt a baby’s ever had.”

  Elena’s eyes went soft. He took her glass, put it on the table, moved closer. “Want to know what else I think?” He swept her hair behind her ear, cradled her face. “I think you’re beautiful and incredibly loyal to brave a city you’re so damn afraid of just so you could be here for your sister.” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and Lucas didn’t think—couldn’t think anymore. He leaned in, drew her closer, his fingers sifting through the soft silkspun hair, his mouth just a breath from hers. “Elena.” He hovered, shaking from the effort to wait, just wait for her to catch up to him.

  She said nothing.

  But she did grab him by the hair and angle his mouth to fit perfectly against hers and suddenly, Lucas was the one who had to catch up. He moved his hands down her hair, her shoulders, her back, up again, his fingers searching—mapping—memorizing—all her lines and curves. She smelled like sugar cookies and vanilla and in his arms, something in his heart whispered, this woman. Her hands fisted in his hair and she gasped into his mouth and if that wasn’t a sign, he was dead. With his tongue, he touched, teased, tasted, and tempted. He’d wanted a kiss, just one kiss in the glow of the Christmas tree lights, but now he knew that wouldn’t be enough.

  But it had to be.

  Unless he could convince her to stay.

  Chapter Seven

  ‡

  When they finally separated, the pure joy she saw on his face sent her into a full-scale panic.

  When was the last time she’d brought legitimate joy to somebody? When she arrived at Kara’s door, it was relief, not joy on her sister’s face. And being with Bree and Aunt Vincenza—there’d been exasperation covering the happiness at finally having her at their table after all these years. Damn it, when was the last time? She couldn’t remember. Had there ever been a time when she hadn’t sucked the joy out of souls wherever she went? Hadn’t she done that just this morning, made her pregnant sister cry? Hadn’t she made her own mother cry the day—

  “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Lucas frowned, brushed her hair from her face.