by Nell Dixon
"We'll continue this conversation later, Jenni."
"I think we've said all there is to say, Nate."
As she walked across to meet the giggling secretaries, she felt as if her heart had well and truly broken in two.
* * * *
Nate watched Jenni walk away from him to meet the admin girls who stood by the bar. How had he managed to make such a hash of things? She seemed further away from him now than ever. Jenni asked the bartender to begin serving the champagne. Soon, they all started to laugh and joke together. More of his staff came to join them, and gritting his teeth, Nate crossed the room to do his duty as host.
The party soon got into full swing. Everyone appeared to be having a good time, including Jenni. She made a superb hostess and ensured no one got left to stand alone or with an empty plate or glass. His attention was magnetically attracted to her slim, swaying figure as she moved from group to group. The one person she didn't want to chat with, it appeared, was him.
Time and again, he caught up with her talking in some group, and as soon as he approached, she disappeared. Now she had been cornered by Mike Walker, who leaned toward her and dangled something that looked a lot like mistletoe over her head.
Nate checked himself from rushing to her side. Perhaps she preferred Mike Walker's company. He watched them closely. Jenni's body language looked uncomfortable. Walker stood much too close. Unable to check himself any longer Nate crossed the room to Jenni's side in a few paces.
"I think it's time the hostess danced with the host, don't you?"
Jenni flushed a delicate pink colour. He thought she might be about to argue with him. Mike tucked his mistletoe back inside his jacket pocket.
"If you two don't mind, I'll just go get a drink." The accountant slipped away, looking anxious to exit the war zone before the missiles started to fly. From the look on Jenni's face, they would all be aimed at Nate.
"What was that about? I can take care of myself." she asked, crossing her arms.
"I know, but I think it's time you and I danced together before I go change into Santa and distribute the presents." Nate held his hand out towards her.
She viewed him with suspicion. "Maybe I don't feel like dancing." The band started to play a popular slow ballad.
"Well, I do. Everyone expects it." He willed her to accept.
Her beautiful eyes flashed fire. "That's blackmail."
She took his hand and he led her onto the crowded dance floor. When people saw them coming they clapped and cheered, making a little space. Nate gathered her in his arms. They started to dance to the music. He could feel her standing stiff and ramrod straight in his arms.
"Relax, Jenni, it's just a dance." He heard the indignant hiss of her breath and took the opportunity to pull her closer. She remained rigid in his grasp, then relaxed a little and leaned into him. Her body felt soft and warm against his. He smelt the faint vanilla perfume she always wore.
"Why are you doing this, Nate?" she murmured against his ear, her voice breathy with an emotion he couldn't define.
"We need to talk. About you and me." He surprised himself by his choice of words, but he knew he had to make Jenni listen to him. The song ended and he felt her move out of his reach.
"Time for you to be Santa." She hadn't given him any indication of whether she might be prepared to hear him out or not.
"Promise me we'll talk."
He noticed her swallow as if nerves had made her throat as dry as his own.
"All right, but you'd better go and change." Nate nodded. If Jenni had given him her word he knew she wouldn't break it. He hurried upstairs to change into the Santa suit and collect the gifts. He just hoped he would be able to find the right words.
* * * *
Jenni watched him go with a troubled heart. What had she let herself in for? Hadn't it been just a few days ago he had told her in this very building ”I was in love once”? She flinched. The words still had the power to hurt her. After everything he had gone through with Cerys, he wasn't looking for the kind of relationship that Jenni knew she wanted. The kind of relationship she deserved. One where she was loved for who she was and not some ghostly imitation of another woman.
* * * *
At last it ended. The last of the guests had gone. Jenni and Nate remained alone. She felt dead on her feet. The strain of the evening sucked all the emotion out of her, leaving her lifeless and numb. The bar staff remained busy collecting the last of the empty glasses. Jenni felt as flat as the champagne dregs.
Jenni didn't want to talk to him. She felt sure she knew already some of the things he would say. How he could never fall in love with anyone again, and how it might be better if she looked for another post in the New Year.
"I've ordered coffee for us." Nate came over to where Jenni sat in a small alcove that overlooked the gardens.
"I'm so tired, Nate. I think I'd just like to go to bed." Jenni wished her heart would stop its painful thumping every time she looked at him. Even dressed as Santa Claus, he was sexy.
He raked his hand irritably through his hair. "We need to sort things out between the two of us, Jenni."
"There's nothing to say, Nate." To her dismay, she burst into tears.
He sank down beside her on the couch. "We can't turn back the clock, Jenni. Is that what you'd like to do?" His eyes locked with hers.
"I..." Her voice failed her and she shrugged lost in misery. She could see their reflections in the window pane, a tired woman in a blue velvet gown and a handsome man dressed as Santa Claus. Two strangers framed in a gold glow, like the scene on a Christmas card. "I just can't go on like this, Nate. I don't want to be anyone's second best and I know that's all I will ever be to you."
She watched the colour drain from his face, leaving him pale and ashen in the mellow light of the alcove lamp.
"That's not true, Jenni. After the time we've spent together, you must know that." His eyes darkened with anguish. "Is there someone else, Jenni? Does Mike Walker mean something to you?"
"You know he doesn't." She felt astonished that he could still have any doubts about her feelings for Mike.
"Then what else do I have to do to convince you, Jenni?" His voice shook with suppressed emotion. "I love you."
She was desperate to believe him but how could she? "No, you don't! You loved Cerys, everyone knows that. I'm just Jenni, the mousy girl in your office, remember. The one who gets to go play pool and eat pizza."
"Cerys is my past, Jenni. You taught me that." He rubbed his face. "I love you, Jenni. You and your silly Christmas tree and lousy flower arranging. I love the way you play pool and walk round a freezing field in the dark with my stupid dog. I love you."
"I'm not right for you, Nate. You need someone like Jo Marchant, someone sophisticated and elegant. I'm not like that."
He rounded on her, "Are you listening to anything I'm saying to you? I love you, Jenni. You're worth ten of Jo Marchant any day. Don't you see? Cerys was the one who was the imitation of what love should be about, not you."
Jenni stared at him, struggling to accept what he had just told her. Nate loved her.
"If you don't feel the same way then say so, Jenni. I know I've been an idiot, but over the last few weeks I've finally come to appreciate what love really is. You've shown me that because for me, that person is you."
The anguished note in his voice betrayed the depth of his feelings.
"Oh, Nate." She slipped her arms around his neck. She thought of all the things he'd done for her, the risks he'd taken. The truth had been there in front of her face and her own self-doubt had blinded her.
"I love you, Jennifer Blake." He slipped from the edge of the sofa to kneel at her feet. "I love you, and I'm asking you if you'll do me the honour of becoming my wife."
She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly on the lips. A fierce hunger swept through her at the brief contact, setting her heart soaring free from the iron bands of pain which had tormented her for so long. "I love you, Nate, and
I would be honoured to accept."
"Of course, there is one thing," she added.
A shadow passed over his face, "What's that?"
"Well, I will have to make sure it's you inside that suit. I don't want to end up as Mrs. Claus by mistake," she said. "It's not every day a girl gets a proposal from Santa."
His eyes sparked at her words, "If you marry me, Jenni, I promise you can check as many times as you like." He swept her into his arms and sealed his promise with a kiss that took her breath away.
"You're the only one I want, Nate. Now and for the rest of our lives," she promised.
About the Author
Nell Dixon is a Black Country author, married to the same man for over twenty-five years she has three daughters, a tank of tropical fish and a cactus called Spike. Winner of the RNA’s prestigious Romance Prize in 2007 and 2010, she writes warm-hearted contemporary romance for a number of publishers in the US and the UK.
Also from Astraea Press
CHAPTER ONE
Caylie Abrahams checked her suitcase one more time, pointing to the neatly packed compartments and mentally checking off things she'd already put inside. Butterflies danced in her stomach. She tried not to think too hard on the evening to come.
For the first time since they'd become a couple six months ago, she and Rick Marshall were going to spend the night together. Alone.
Taking a deep breath she raced to the bathroom and then quickly filled a cup with water. Hands shaking, she gulped down the cool fluid. Deep, loud laughter drew her attention away from what felt like prom night.
She set the cup on the counter, debating whether to keep packing or to make sure her brother would be fine for the weekend without her. Eighteen now, Kyle didn’t need to be watched over. However, he still lived under her roof, and she expected him to follow the rules.
A little reminder here and there about what she expected never hurt, so she headed down the hall to his room. At his door, she lifted her hand to knock. His muffled voice sounded through the slivered opening, and she paused. Pressing a hand to the frame to steady herself, she leaned closer, wondering if she'd heard correctly.
"Look, it's not that I don't want to do it, I just... No, hey, come on Gloria, that's not fair." He laughed again.
Caylie considered rushing down the stairs and snatching up the other phone. What little vixen was trying to demoralize her brother? She'd been down that path before with Kyle; she didn't want to deal with bad influences again.
"See, here's the deal," he said, his voice turning somber. "My sis and her fiancé are waiting until after they’re married to do it, and I was thinking about it and, I think that's right."
Blinking, Caylie backed away from the door, heart pounding. The diamond on her ring finger glittered in the dying light of day. She had to call Rick. Before she could make it to her room— and her phone— a heavy pounding sounded on the door downstairs. On the way down she shouted to Kyle that she had the door.
The thick shadow on the other side of the front door glass made her heart skip. Nervousness and excitement collided, causing her hand to pause over the doorknob. Inhaling deeply, she yanked the door open and couldn't stop the smile, her eyes settling on the face she never grew tired of seeing.
"Hey, gorgeous," Rick said, his voice low and silky, causing a wonderful shiver to race up her spine.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she let loose a squeal as he scooped her against his firm body. The door banged closed. In a split second, he pinned her to the wall. Breath rushed from her lungs. Feverish and demanding, his lips sought hers and Caylie didn't deny him.
For over a week they'd sufficed with phone conversations, texts and emails— all difficulties of a semi-long distance relationship. On the weekends, they stayed at each other’s house, in separate rooms out of respect for Kyle. Their weekdays were spent dealing with their individual lives; they were only able to support each other over a phone line. Caylie couldn't wait for the day when they would be together for good.
The thought made her remember Kyle's words, and with frustration, she pulled away. Pushing her hands on his chest to keep him from advancing again, she shook her head. Breathless, she said, "We can't go alone to the lake this weekend."
Confusion etched his handsome face, and he pulled back slightly. "What are you talking about? Why?"
Dryness suddenly coated her throat, and she swallowed. Unable to look at him, she focused on his shirt buttons. "I overheard Kyle talking to his girlfriend. He thinks we’ve made the choice not to sleep together until we're married."
"So?"
She met his stare. "So, he's decided to make the same choice, because of us."
"But we didn't make that choice... did we?" The desperation straining his voice almost made her laugh. However, the same pent-up desire guided her body too, and it was screaming for her to forget what she’d heard.
Ignoring the heat coursing through her veins, she patted his chest and whispered, "I have."
A low growl sounded in his throat and he rested his forehead against hers. Sighing, he braced his hands on the wall above her. "Then I guess I have too."
Tears of both gratitude and disappointment burned as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you."
"I love you, too... and that trouble-maker brother of yours."
She giggled and then sniffled back the tears still threatening. "Hey, for once he's keeping us honest. We should thank him."
He sucked air between his teeth and then kissed her neck, causing her knees to grow weak. "That's not going to happen."
"All right," she agreed, hoping he didn't do anything more.
Cold air replaced the heat of his body when he stepped away so suddenly, she almost fell forward. "Kyle!" he shouted.
She gently wiped her smeared lip gloss off from around her mouth and followed Rick up the stairs. His feet fell in heavy steps. The framed pictures on the wall jostled and Caylie paused, fixing the wedding picture of her parents. Smiling, she touched her mother’s beaming face and knew instantly they'd made the right decision. How Rick felt though, was an unknown.
"Get your stuff and let's go!" he yelled again.
"What are you talking about?" came her brother’s equally loud voice. Why did men have to scream everything?
"Caylie didn't tell you? You're coming with us this weekend. Like we go anywhere without you," he said with playful sarcasm.
Kyle snorted and disappeared into his void of a bedroom, the door slamming shut. Arms crossed, Caylie leaned against the wall.
"Is there room for him?"
"Of course." He closed the distance and then rested his hands on her hips. "I never for a second thought we'd be going alone."
Slack-jawed, she stared at him. "What?"
"Come on, we've been together for six months and not once have we even been able to sneak across the hall to each other’s rooms. It's like being back in high school. Only," he leaned close and whispered, "I think Kyle's worse than my parents ever were."
She chuckled. "Mine too." Then a thought came to her, and she leaned over, her focus on her brother’s closed door. "Do you think he said what he did just for my benefit?"
Rick shrugged. "Who knows? I like the idea of us being some sort of a role model for something so important, so let's just go with it for now, shall we?"
If she could love him more, she would have in that moment. Nodding, she said, "Okay."
"Hey!" Kyle said in disgust when he spied them.
Rick moved away and winked. Caylie's face heated, and she ducked into her bedroom to close up her suitcase. Rick stopped in the doorframe, his wide shoulders making the space seem so much smaller. Leaning against the frame, he crossed his arms.
"Do you want me to send my driver, Dan, up to get that?"
Rolling her eyes, Caylie shook her head. "No, I am perfectly capable of bringing my own suitcase down."
"It's what I pay the man to do."
Fingers wrapped around the handle, she slid th
e suitcase off the bed. With a heavy thunk, the case landed on the floor with more weight than she'd expected. Rick uncrossed his arms and straightened.
"Can I at least help you?"
She pressed an index finger to her mouth in thought. "Okay, that's fine."
His dark green eyes danced with laughter. "Don't mind a servant as long as it's me, huh?"
When he was within reach, she grabbed the edges of his jacket and rose on her tiptoes. She pressed a firm kiss to his lips. Against his mouth, she said, "You're supposed to be helping me when I need it. Not some man you pay."
"Eventually you'll have to get used to this lifestyle."
The lifestyle that came from generations of money on his mother’s side and an entrepreneurial father, who started a marketing firm Rick still ran. She thought of the man downstairs, and hoped he was either in the house, or inside a running car and not out in the cold waiting to see if they needed him. Releasing his jacket, she stepped away. "I don't think I ever will."
"Do you need anything else brought down?"
"I can get the rest, thanks."
When Rick cleared the door, the wheels of the suitcase rumbling down the hall, she sat heavily on the bed. Taking a deep breath, she ran her fingers through her long hair. Thankfully, Rick's wealth didn't overwhelm her nearly as much anymore. Only when someone was asked to do things she was perfectly capable of doing herself, did she almost despise his status.
She glanced down at her ring; its size a reminder of his money. Was his the lifestyle she really wanted though? For herself and for Kyle? No matter how the deck was cut, Kyle would benefit from Rick's money. Her brother would go to the best college. Never again would she worry about whether they could afford clothes for him.
Even though he was now legally responsible for himself, he was still in school and had another six months left before graduation. Before he graduated, they'd have moved in to Rick's house, the wedding only two months away. Did she really want her brother becoming accustomed to servants, personal drivers, and not having to worry about financial responsibility?
