“I like this dress.” His finger slid down to the next button.
“It was my great-grandmother Sarah’s,” she said, her voice breathless. “I was getting dressed to go to Jake’s when the strangest impulse to try it on came over me. Everything else—” she glanced around the room “—just sort of followed.”
“It looks good on you.” He moved to the third button and lifted his gaze to hers. “The white against your eyes deepens the blue.”
Dylan barely heard Jessica’s whispered thank-you. He leaned closer. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Jessica Stone,” he said quietly.
Her eyelids were heavy as she held his gaze. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
He smiled. “It’s a compliment.”
“Thank you.”
When he got to the fourth button, he felt her breath catch. His knuckles brushed the swell of her breast through the lace. “I thought you were a ghost when I came in here. You’re too beautiful to be real.”
“I’m real,” she murmured.
“I know. You’re more real than any woman I’ve ever met. So real it frightens the hell out of me.”
“I frighten you?” she asked in wonder.
He nodded slowly. “You make me want things, Jess. Things I can’t have.”
“It’s Christmas Eve. Anything’s possible if you believe.” She lifted a hand to his cheek. “But you have to tell me what it is you want.”
He felt her heart pounding under his hand, felt the answering beat of his own thundering heart. “You,” he said softly. “I want you.”
Jessica understood there were no promises, but for this one night, she refused to care. His skin felt warm under her hand, and the beginning of a beard tickled at her fingertips. She looked into his eyes, saw the urgency and need there, and felt as if she was looking into a mirror.
Candlelight surrounded them like a fiery cocoon. She sighed his name, leaning close, offering the most precious gift she could give him. A gift that could never be taken back once given. A gift, she knew, that would never be given to anyone else.
His lips brushed hers lightly, tracing the contours of her mouth before his tongue followed suit, tasting, testing. His hand cupped her breast and she arched into him, marveling at the magic his palm worked. He was gentle, so incredibly gentle, she thought she might cry.
She felt weightless, as if her body were drifting. She felt his lips move over her lips like a whisper, no more than the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.
This was like nothing she’d ever experienced before or ever would again. Her hands slid around his neck, pulling him closer, then closer still, wanting to be a part of him, wanting him to be a part of her. There was desire, there was passion, but there was more, so much more.
What was happening? Dylan wondered. She was everything a man dreamed of, everything a man could want. It wasn’t possible to feel this desperate, this out of control. It was as if he was on the outer edge of a branch, watching in helpless despair as the limb snapped in two. He felt himself fall and he held on to her, knowing she was his only salvation. His only chance.
The need for her sharpened and grew. He rained kisses on her mouth and neck. She molded herself to him, murmuring encouragement, whispering his name. He drew her away, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her, she up at him. Her irises were dilated, her lips swollen and wet from his kisses.
“Touch me,” she whispered. “Please.”
It was impossible to resist her. He couldn’t. It would have been easier to stop the sun from rising. One by one, he slowly undid the front buttons of her dress, then carefully pushed the heavy fabric aside.
Her underclothes were as much a surprise to him as the dress. The cotton chemise dipped low, with one faded pink ribbon at the V of the demure garment. He tugged gently at the ribbon and the chemise fell open, exposing her breasts to him. His palms felt damp, his skin hot, as he stared down at her. “Beautiful,” he murmured, and a blush rose on her cheeks.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her as he slipped the chemise and dress completely from her shoulders. Her skin glowed like smooth porcelain. She trembled when he brought his lips to her shoulder. His hands slid around her rib cage, his knuckles brushing the velvety underside of her breasts. She gasped when his mouth covered one swollen nipple; she moaned as his tongue swirled hot and wet over the beaded tip.
Sensation after sensation exploded inside her. A need sharper and clearer than she’d ever felt before coiled low in her stomach. She was incapable of thought. She could only feel. And the feelings were so intense she thought she might rip apart from the force. She held him to her, burying her fingers in his hair as he lowered her to the floor. The pillow was soft under her head, the rug coarse against her back. She cupped his head in her hands, moaning as he wet one nipple with his tongue, then pulled the hardened peak into his mouth.
What had started with such tenderness became urgent and wild. She worked at the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin against her own. She lifted her hips as he slid the dress and chemise down her body, then her hands fanned across his bare chest and tugged the shirt from him.
He pushed to his knees, rising over her, his eyes glinting with passion as he unbuckled his belt and slid his zipper down. Boldly he tugged off his jeans. Naked, he lowered himself, parting her legs with his muscular thighs.
He entered her, his gaze burning into hers. The pain of wanting, the pleasure, became one, and she grasped his arms, holding on to him as he filled her with maddening slowness. Impatient, she arched up to meet him, driving him deeply into her. His moan echoed her own, and as he rolled his hips, she laced her fingers around his neck, pulling him closer still, wishing she could draw herself inside him.
The candlelight circled them; their shadows rose and fell on the wall. The flames within them rose higher, then higher still, until the blaze overtook them and exploded, shattering into a thousand brilliant sparks.
And as the embers slowly settled, he held her close, listening to the sweet sound of her heartbeat.
* * *
“Is it not the most wonderful gift ever?” Meggie asked, her eyes bright as she spun in front of the altar. “We have our church again, Lucas. Our beautiful church. How can we ever thank her?”
Lucas watched Meggie’s skirts fly as she turned. She’d never looked so radiant. At least, not for a hundred and twenty years. He smiled, pleasured by her delight. “We’ll find a way, my love.”
“If only we knew who the nasty individual was who set the saloon on fire. We could expose the scoundrel somehow.”
Lucas shook his head. “Since we didn’t see, we can’t know. Not even Hannibal saw who it was.” Lucas looked at the dog, who had shown up a few minutes ago with news that Dylan had returned. There was no telepathy involved to understand that the hotel was off-limits tonight.
“We’ll all have to be more watchful, then,” Meggie declared. “We can’t let anything happen to Jessica or to Makeshift. Where would we go, what would we do, if it was gone?”
Lucas didn’t know. Frustration boiled in him. There were so many things he didn’t know. With every advantage he experienced as a spirit being came a limitation that sorely tested his patience.
But what worried him the most, what he hadn’t even told Meggie, was the feeling that he was being drawn from her, away from Makeshift. He’d fought the sensation, but he understood that if it was finally time for him to leave here, there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He couldn’t think about it. The idea of leaving Meggie here alone was inconceivable.
“Dance with me, Lucas,” Meggie whispered. “A Christmas dance.”
“I’d be honored, my lady.” He held his arms out, pretending, as they had so many times before. Smiling, she moved into his arms, also pretending.
And as they glided over the floor, somewhere the pretense became reality, and for the first time in one hundred and twenty years, Lucas held the woman he loved in his arms.
; * * *
Sunlight woke Jessica the next morning. Sunlight, and a wet sloppy kiss on her cheek. A little too wet and sloppy, she thought, slowly opening her eyes. Hannibal stared back from beside her bed, his tongue hanging sideways out of his jaws. She burrowed under her pillow, but the dog barked and nudged her with his cold nose.
“Go away,” she moaned.
He waited a moment, then nudged her again.
“I said go away.”
“That’s not what you said last night,” a deep voice whispered sensually as a large hand slid over the blanket covering her rear end.
Dylan. She smiled, then shivered as his touch grew more intimate. When the mattress dipped, she pulled her head out from under the pillow and combed her hair back from her face. Hannibal was gone, but Dylan sat on the edge of the bed, smiling down at her. They’d spent the night in her bed making love, and now, in the light of day, she felt the rise of a blush. Dylan wore jeans, but the snap was undone, and just looking at his bare muscular chest made her pulse leap.
“Really?” She feigned boredom. “I can’t seem to remember.”
He lifted one brow. “Is that right? Well, then, I’ll just have to jog your memory.”
His hand glided over the roundness of her buttocks and up her back. “Does this ring a bell?” he whispered.
An entire cathedral of bells, she thought as she drew in a sharp breath. It took every ounce of control she possessed to lie still while his hand moved upward. “It’s still pretty blurry,” she murmured.
“Maybe this will sharpen your focus.” His teeth nibbled the back of her neck while his hand slid over the soft edge of her breast, then between her body and the mattress.
Razor sharp, was all she could think as he lowered his body beside hers. And when his hand moved lower and slipped between her legs, it was impossible not to squirm.
“It’s coming back to me now.” Wantonly she moved her hips against the delicious press of his fingers.
“Oh, it’s coming all right,” he said, chuckling softly as he rolled her onto her back and lowered his body over hers. She tugged at his zipper, then slid his jeans over his hips.
“Dylan!” she cried out as he slid into her.
“So your memory returns,” he said raggedly, moving against her slowly.
“It’s a miracle,” she replied, wrapping her arms around him. “Truly a miracle.”
* * *
“Merry Christmas.” Dylan rose on his elbows and glanced down at Jessica. Her skin was flushed, her eyes heavy and dark from their lovemaking.
“Oh, my gosh.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I almost forgot!”
He pressed his lips to the pulse at the base of her neck. “Do you need another memory jog?”
She laughed softly, then gasped as his mouth traveled lower. “I’ve never forgotten Christmas, and besides, it’s tradition in my family to get up and open presents with the first ray of light.”
Her enthusiasm charmed him. He could picture her with dark-haired children surrounding her, excitedly opening stockings and presents on Christmas morning. When he unexpectedly saw himself standing beside her, he shook the image away. There was no place for him in fantasies like that.
“I’ve opened my present.” He wiggled his brows at her and grinned.
She smiled, then ran her hands up his chest. “What did your parents do on Christmas when you were little?”
“They went to Europe,” he said, rolling to his side and pulling her with him.
Her eyes widened. “You went to Europe every Christmas?”
“No. I said my parents did.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “They left you at home?”
“They didn’t leave me at home. They left me at boarding school. After they divorced, I sometimes went to stay at my mother’s place on the Cape. She had a housekeeper named Gerta who loved to sing ‘Yingle Bells.’”
Jessica ignored his attempt at humor. “Your mother left you with a housekeeper on Christmas?”
Her look of complete shock and sympathy almost made him smile. “Yeah, well, tradition, as you say. They’d been going to Europe every summer and December for years. Why let a little thing like a kid change their lives?”
Jessica felt her chest constrict. It was unthinkable not to be with family on Christmas. She knew hers would always be there for her—every day, not just Christmas. But obviously Dylan had never had that, and as she looked at him, she realized how little she knew about the man she loved.
She loved him. The thought nearly took the breath from her. She’d fought it from the first, but it had been there all the time, lying in wait. Yet no matter how much she wanted to tell him, she wouldn’t. He would pull away from her, and she couldn’t bear that. Not now. Not today.
She cupped his face in her hands and held his gaze with hers. “I’m sorry, Dylan,” she said softly.
One corner of his mouth tilted upward. “Don’t be sorry. You should’ve seen the presents I got.”
“Something tells me those presents didn’t mean spit to you,” she said quietly.
He pulled her body snugly against his. “The red Lamborghini I got for my high school graduation was pretty nice.”
She nearly choked. “Lamborghini?”
He smiled at her reaction. “My father handed me the keys, then told me to report for work at his company for the summer until I started at the college he’d chosen. I drove that damn car until it ran out of gas, left it, then hitchhiked to Colorado.”
With a gasp, she sat upright. “You abandoned a Lamborghini?”
Dylan rested his head back against the pillows and enjoyed the view of Jessica’s body. He frowned playfully as she quickly pulled the sheet up to cover herself. “The price of owning it was too high for me. For the first time in my life I knew what it felt like to be free. No conditions, no strings.”
“And then you got married,” she said carefully.
“Ah, yes. Kathleen. A temporary lapse of sanity at my father’s sixtieth birthday party, one of my rare visits home. It didn’t take long for both of us to realize it was a mistake. We argued constantly about my going to work for my father’s importing business. She’d moved out by the end of the fourth month, but when she discovered she was pregnant, she tried to use the baby to get me to go to work for my dad. If she—” he hesitated “—they hadn’t died, I just might have done it.”
Jessica’s eyes burned as she slipped into the warmth of Dylan’s arms and held him close. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “She was such a fool. And your parents need a sound talking to, as well,” she added.
He chuckled softly. His fingers traced a lazy circle on her shoulder. “Now that I’d like to see you do. My dad still asks me when I’m going to grow up and come home to work for him.”
The very idea that the rugged muscular man holding her—the man who’d made love to her half the night—wasn’t grown-up was almost laughable. He’d had parents who expected too much, who tried to buy love with money, and a wife who’d tried to buy money with love. Dylan not only wasn’t going home, Jessica realized with a heavy heart, he had no intention of making his own home, either. It was easier to drift, to move from place to place, than risk that kind of hurt again.
But today was Christmas, she thought. And no matter what tomorrow might bring, she was going to show Dylan a good old-fashioned Stone-family holiday.
Just as soon as he stopped kissing her neck.
There was a small spot just behind Jessica’s ear that he knew was sensitive. He searched for it, and when she moaned, he smiled with satisfaction, much happier with the current conversation, or lack of it, which had nothing to do with family. He hadn’t wanted to even think about family, let alone talk about it.
He wanted to regret last night, but he couldn’t. The morning hadn’t diminished his need for her, and even now, as the heat coiled inside him, he feared there would never be enough mornings to forget last night, or to forget her.
Jake and Jared woul
d be coming over later for dinner. And after he talked to them, he knew he’d have to tell Jessica the truth.
But not today, he decided. He wouldn’t do that to her on Christmas. Tomorrow morning. He’d talk to her then. If she was going to hate him, he didn’t want it to be today.
* * *
“Is that popcorn real?”
Jessica handed a glass of wine to Myrna, then answered her question with a patience that could only be borne on Christmas. “Of course it’s real. So are the cookies. That’s why the bottom is so bare. Hannibal’s been snacking.” The dog wagged his tail at the sound of his name.
Jake and Jared stood beside Myrna surveying their sister’s handiwork. “Good idea, Hannibal,” Jake said, and snatched a star off one branch.
“Hey!” She tried to grab the cookie back.
“Edible ornaments.” Jared stared hard at the tree, then settled for a bell cookie. “Sort of like a giant appetizer plate.”
“Aunt Savannah! Annie!” Emma yelled for reinforcements from the kitchen. “Jake and Jared are eating Jessie’s tree!”
Savannah came out of the kitchen carrying a platter with a huge golden brown turkey. “Well, I guess we better feed them, then, before they start on the furniture.”
Annie’s arms were equally laden with bowls of mashed potatoes and gravy. She followed Savannah into the dining room. “I hate to admit it, but that tree looked good enough to eat to me, too.”
“Everything looks good to you lately.” Jared went into the dining room and took the bowls from Annie’s hands, then slipped one arm around her waist and covered her belly with his hand.
It was strange being included in the festivities, Dylan thought as they all sat for dinner and the blessing was said. Yet at the same time, he felt at home here, welcomed in a way he’d never experienced before. They’d treated him as one of the family, not as a guest, and his duties for the day had included peeling potatoes and cutting up bread for stuffing.
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