A Very Merry Christmas: WITH Do You Hear What I Hear AND Bah Humbug, Ba

by Lori Foster

He kissed the top of her head and said, “I feel like a horny high school kid.”

  With a purr, Marci trailed her hands down to his abdomen, perilously close to his groin. “You feel like a very sexy man to me.”

  After making love, they’d eaten soup, talked quietly, and then played with the dogs for a while before getting them settled in the hallway.

  Ozzie should have been sated, but already he wanted her again.

  Given the way she toyed with him, she felt the same.

  His second effort at making love to her had been an improvement, but it hadn’t abated the urgency he felt. He was starting to worry that he’d always feel that way with Marci—on edge, anxious, soft and hard at the same time.

  She left him so confused, he didn’t know what he wanted, or for how long, or when. Sex, definitely. Time with her, sure. A future? He’d never thought so, not with lessons learned from Ainsley.

  But were there any real similarities between the two women? It nettled him to think he’d allowed Ainsley’s machinations to affect him so deeply. So she’d lied, and tormented, and—

  Marci slid atop him and put her mouth to his chin in a gentle kiss, then his brow, each cheekbone—and Ozzie was a goner. Her touch obliterated all thoughts of other women. Concerns drifted away, replaced by arousal.

  He cupped her face, kissed her hungrily, and Marci kept pace with him every step of the way.

  Very early the next morning, bright sunshine, reflecting off the snow-covered landscape, flowed in through the windows and stirred Ozzie awake. Automatically, he reached for Marci but found her side of the bed empty. He opened one eye. Huh. He’d need to talk to her about sneaking out on him, and he knew she had sneaked, because he was a light sleeper. She should have awakened him.

  He glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty. Still early enough to put in a full day. He stretched, and grinned.

  Today they would put up lights and a tree…things he hadn’t considered doing because the loss of his grandmother had taken him out of the holiday mood.

  Marci had gotten him right back into it, in a big way.

  He wanted to make her happy. He wanted to make Grimshaw and Lakeisha happy.

  And he knew that pleasing them would have pleased his grandmother also. She had no patience for melancholy and she’d loved him enough that she never wanted to see him in a funk.

  He couldn’t wait to go pick out a few gifts for Marci, and maybe a few things for the dogs. Because he often took walks with Grimshaw around the property, he already knew the perfect tree to cut. He could envision the house lit up with twinkle lights after he cleared the walkways and porch. This Christmas would be a special one, a tribute to his grandmother, and a chance to get closer to Marci.

  Sudden, furious barking brought him out of his revelry and upright in the bed. Grimshaw sounded outraged. The dog was so friendly that Ozzie wasn’t accustomed to hearing that particular sound.

  Seconds later, as he was leaving the bed and searching for his jeans, Grimshaw’s paws hit the closed door and he demanded immediate entrance. Forgoing the jeans, Ozzie opened the door and Grimshaw, overly anxious, immediately turned to go back downstairs.

  Ozzie didn’t need to be a pet psychic to know that Grimshaw wanted him to follow. Something was wrong.

  Buck-naked, Ozzie raced down the steps. He could hear Lakeisha snarling and his heart shot into his throat. He rounded the corner of the kitchen—and came to a stunned stop.

  Marci had her hands full holding Lakeisha back. Lakeisha fought her, but with good reason.

  That damned annoying reporter, Vaughn Wayland, had wedged himself in the doggy door, apparently trying to break in. From all appearances, he was stuck. Grimshaw joined Lakeisha with a lot of threatening bluster and a growl that sounded feral and deadly.

  Vaughn whimpered and choked in fear.

  Marci spoke to the dogs, saying, “It’s okay, guys. He’s an idiot, but we don’t want him to be a mangled idiot. Now, please calm down. Osbourne will take care of him. You don’t have to do a thing.”

  Neither dog appeared to be listening to her.

  Ozzie shouted, “Just what the hell is going on here?”

  Silence dropped like a lead weight.

  Everyone turned to look at him—Vaughn and Grimshaw with relief, Lakeisha with uncertainty, and Marci with wide-eyed shock.

  “Osbourne!” Her face went red-hot. “You’re naked.”

  He slashed a hand in the air over that. “How long has he been there?”

  “Not long,” she choked, then she ran to get a dishcloth to try to cover him. He took it from her and tossed it aside. The dogs sat back to watch.

  “Vaughn, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

  The idiot started whimpering again. He had his head, right shoulder, and arm through the opening. But the rest of him remained in the mudroom.

  Ozzie took two steps to stand over him.

  Marci covered her eyes, but Vaughn stared up at him in fear.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Ozzie said, “You know I’m going to have your sorry ass arrested, don’t you?”

  In a pathetic whine, Vaughn cried, “I just needed an interview, that’s all.”

  “There’ll be an interview, all right. With the authorities. You can explain to them why you broke into my house.”

  Vaughn turned pleading eyes on Marci. “Just a few confirmations, that’s all I need.”

  She joined Ozzie’s side. “You’re lucky I didn’t turn the dogs loose on you. Lakeisha really doesn’t like you at all, and that makes Grimshaw, who’s usually such a friendly fellow, despise you as well.”

  Vaughn’s head dropped and nearly hit the floor. “I’ll do the article anyway.”

  Shaking her head, Marci said, “Go ahead. It won’t be the first time. But people will call you a fool. Trust me, Mr. Wayland, no one will believe you.”

  His head lifted again. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

  Marci sniffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She turned on her heel and strode away.

  “Where are you going?” Ozzie asked.

  Over her shoulder, she called back, “To get you some pants. If you’re going to call your police friends, I don’t want them to see you like this.”

  He grinned—until he looked back at Vaughn Wayland. The bastard looked utterly defeated. How must Marci feel? She’d said it wasn’t the first time someone had done an article on her. She also said no one ever believed in her ability.

  Yet that didn’t stop her from helping animals. Her heart was too big for her to stop.

  Damn it, he was falling in love with her.

  To the dogs, he said, “Watch him while I go make a call.”

  Grimshaw perked up his ears and plopped down right in front of Vaughn. His lips rolled back to show sharp teeth and a growl poured out of his throat.

  Looking love struck, Lakeisha sat behind Grimshaw.

  As Ozzie strode over to the phone, he thought, What a way to start the day.

  Then a pair of jeans hit him in the stomach and he looked up to see Marci eyeing him. Or, more precisely, she eyed a certain part of his anatomy.

  “Does my nakedness bother you, Marci?” he teased.

  She muttered, “You’re shameless,” but her gaze remained below his navel.

  He couldn’t help it—he smiled. Marci Churchill was in his house. She eyed him with lust.

  It really was a hell of a way to start any day.

  He was beginning to think it’d be a good way to start most of his days, from now until the end of eternity.

  Now that he didn’t have to worry about the reporter bothering them, Ozzie looked forward to Christmas morning with a lot of anticipation.

  Since Marci had come to stay with him, everything had changed. For the better. In too many ways to count, she enhanced his life. The dogs loved her, and he loved the dogs.

  Dining with her was always a unique experience, because Marci never indulged in ordinary conversation. She could still
make him nuts on occasion, but now he was starting to like it.

  She kissed him good-bye and welcomed him home with a hug, but she didn’t smother him. She was independent, but not prickly about it. She had her own interests, and he was one of them.

  Making love with her was the stuff of fantasies, but sleeping with her, listening to her even breathing, holding her close, was pretty damn sweet, too. Because of his third-shift job, though, he didn’t get to sleep with her as often as he’d have liked.

  When it came to his house, Marci had wonderful ideas about how to remodel. When their ideas clashed, she didn’t push the issue. Unlike other women he’d known, she didn’t insist that her view was the right or better one. For that reason more than any other, he found himself agreeing with her more often than not.

  Little by little, Marci taught him how to read various signals from the dogs. A certain look or gesture, a sudden show of excitement. When he paid attention, it wasn’t so hard to figure out what the dogs felt and why.

  They knew when he started to get ready for work, and they reacted to it. Lakeisha would get antsy and Grimshaw would mope. Now that Ozzie was keyed in to their moods, he took the time to reassure them each and every night, and he felt better about leaving them with Marci there to keep them happy.

  He couldn’t decipher their thoughts the way she did, and when it came to other animals, he was hopeless. She loved to chat with the birds and squirrels that came each day for the seed she put out. She even conversed with white-tailed deer and the occasional fox. It amused Ozzie, but he no longer felt so clueless about her talent.

  He no longer doubted her.

  After the holidays, she’d probably need to return to her aerobics job. That thought didn’t set well with him. He’d gotten used to having her around. The dogs needed her. They all meshed.

  He considered cementing their relationship in some way, but he was still cautious enough that he held back. Marci’s uniqueness made her special, but it also made her unpredictable. When he used his brain, instead of his gonads, he knew it’d be wise not to rush things.

  For that reason, he refrained from any and all declarations and just tried to enjoy his time with her.

  The night before Christmas Eve, while Ozzie was at the station working, another storm dumped seven inches of snow, topping it with sleet. He imagined the house would look beautiful all frosted in white, glowing with the lights they’d strung up from every window and door, every bush and tree.

  In another hour, his shift would end. Marci would be up waiting for him. She and the dogs would greet him at the door. After breakfast, he’d take the dogs out to play, then he and Marci would indulge in some alone time. A wonderful routine.

  He could hardly wait.

  Ozzie had just pulled out of the parking lot when his pager went off. A rape-and-kidnapping suspect had barricaded himself in a woman’s home. Neighbors said they heard the woman’s screams.

  With everything he’d need for a call out already on his person or in his truck, Ozzie turned around and headed to the location. He figured it’d take him less than fifteen minutes to get there, but fifteen minutes could mean life or death to a hostage.

  As SWAT, he was used to being on call and didn’t even think to resent the intrusion. It was his job, and he was damn good at it. Marci faded from his mind and he went into SWAT mode.

  As soon as Ozzie and the other team members arrived, a detective filled them in. Ozzie learned that the suspect had a violent past and an extensive criminal history.

  “Everything I’ve got right now is really vague,” the detective explained. “I know that we’ve got an adult female being held against her will. Her mouth and hands are duct taped.”

  Ozzie nodded as, by rote, he prepared himself.

  “We believe the victim is an old girlfriend of his, but we haven’t been able to confirm that yet.”

  In rapid order, the SWAT team evacuated all the neighbors. Some joined a television crew outside a blockade down the street, while others made use of an enclosed unit brought in to offer a place of warmth for the residents. Even though uniformed officers kept the reporters and camera crews too far away to interfere, Ozzie detested having them around during a time of crisis. He could do nothing about it, so he ignored them.

  The SWAT team concentrated on establishing contact with the suspect. The man was antagonistic, desperate, and probably pumped up on drugs. After a couple of hours, when he still refused to come out peacefully, the team formulated a new plan.

  They couldn’t wait any longer, not with a female hostage inside.

  Most of the SWAT team spread out, taking sniper positions that gave them the cleanest shots. Then, a couple of them deliberately broke the front windows of the home, drawing the suspect’s attention while Ozzie slipped in through the back. On silent feet, he crept forward. He could hear the suspect cursing, outraged over the broken windows.

  And he could hear the woman crying.

  Keeping his H&K .40 caliber at the ready, he edged around a wall—and came face to face with the suspect. The panicked bastard fired a shot at him, but Ozzie was already moving.

  Without a single second’s hesitation, Ozzie brought his forearm up and slammed it into the man’s face.

  The man’s nose shattered and he dropped his gun while staggering backward. In a heartbeat, Ozzie had him contained. He called in the rest of the team, and the crisis was over, with no innocents injured.

  All in all, a job well done.

  Once the scene had been cleared, the suspect arrested, and the hostage transported to the hospital via ambulance, Ozzie started for home. Reporters tried to interview him, but he dodged them.

  As usual, the adrenaline began to fade, making him bone tired. But today, he wouldn’t be heading home to an empty house. He thought of Marci waiting for him, and contentment seeped in.

  The snow was thick on the ground and it crunched beneath his tires as he pulled down the long drive. He parked, trod through the white stuff to the door, and stomped to clear his boots.

  To his bemusement, no one stood at the door waiting.

  He walked in, heard an awful racket, and located Marci seated on the family room floor with both dogs, in front of the television. Tears tracked her cheeks and the dogs were howling, which probably explained why she hadn’t heard him arrive.

  “What’s going on?”

  They all looked up at once. For two seconds, time stood still—then they rushed him. The dogs reached him first, jumping and barking and circling. Sniffling, Marci threw herself against him.

  Getting worried, Ozzie caught her close. “What is it, honey? What’s wrong?”

  She hiccupped, and burrowed closer. “I’m sorry,” she said, and her voice sounded strained and unsteady. “I know you don’t want a woman who frets. I tried not to.”

  Her hands knotted in his coat and she pushed back to glare at him. “But let me tell you, Osbourne, it’s unreasonable of you to make such demands.”

  He had no idea what she was talking about. As usual.

  When he said nothing, she tried to shake him. “We saw that awful situation on the news!” New tears welled up. “The reporters said what you did, and that you got shot at, but they didn’t know anything beyond that.”

  “Damned reporters,” he grumbled. “I’m fine.”

  “I see that. Now. But you could have been killed.”

  His mood lightened and he had to fight a smile. “So you were worried about me?”

  “Worried, and…” She gulped, hugging him close again. “And so proud. You saved that woman.”

  Still amused at her, and touched by her concern, Ozzie ran his hands up and down her back. “It’s my job, honey.”

  “And, thank God, you’re very good at it.”

  She wasn’t going to complain about the danger? She wouldn’t ask him to quit? Ozzie had never felt so loved—until Lakeisha peed on his foot in excitement.

  “Oh, hell.” He jumped out of the way and poor Lakeisha lowered her
head in shame.

  Marci switched alliances in an instant. “Osbourne, she’s sorry. It was just an accident. She’s been as worried as me.”

  “Is that so?” More than likely, the dogs were reacting to Marci being upset, but he didn’t want to correct her.

  “It’s okay, Lakeisha,” she said to the dog. “He understands. Osbourne, tell her you understand.”

  “I understand.” He scratched the dog’s ears and she relaxed again.

  Marci nudged Ozzie, saying as an aside, “Don’t forget Grimshaw. We don’t want him to get jealous.”

  Ozzie wasn’t sure if it was Marci’s emotional upheaval, her instruction, her understanding, or the way she catered to the animals, but in that instant, everything became crystal clear to him.

  Marci wasn’t like other women. She sure as hell wasn’t like Ainsley. Marci didn’t have a mean or manipulative bone in her entire body. She was so open with him that she showed him a side of her he’d once scorned.

  Her heart was big enough to care for everyone and everything, even when it earned her derision from others. And most of all, she trusted him.

  Ozzie realized that he not only trusted her, too, he loved her. Everything about her.

  Before he could think to censor his thoughts, he said, “I’m proud of you, too, Marci.”

  “You are? But why?”

  “You’re gifted, and caring, and strong. Strong enough to keep helping animals despite the grief people give you.”

  Her eyes welled with more tears. “Thank you.”

  “I love you, Marci.”

  She froze. Dashing away the tears, she blinked at him, then nodded. “I love you, too. I have almost from the first time we met. I knew you’d be different.” And to the dogs, she said, “Didn’t I tell you he was different?”

  Ozzie touched her chin to bring her attention back to him. “Will you move in with me for good?”

  “Yes.”

  Her quick answer had him grinning so big, his cheeks hurt. “Will you help me remodel the house so that we both like it?”

  “I’d love to.”

  He went for broke. Dropping to one knee and taking her hand, he asked, “Will you marry me?”