Home for the Holidays

by Sarah Mayberry

  The buzz of a cell phone interrupted her thoughts. Joe pulled a face and reached for his back pocket.

  “Sorry. I told the sitter to call if there were any problems.”

  “Of course.”

  She hadn’t dated a man with children before, had never really thought about all the extra complications and problems a woman would have to be prepared to take on. It would be daunting, becoming part of an instant family. A real baptism of fire.

  She fiddled with her cutlery, not wanting Joe to think she was eavesdropping, but it was hard to avoid overhearing his conversation even though he was talking quietly. It quickly became obvious from his tone and what he was saying that he was talking to Ruby.

  “The spider’s not going to hurt you, honey,” he said. “It’s probably more afraid of you than you are of it.”

  Joe flicked her an apologetic glance, but she shook her head to indicate she wasn’t fussed. His kids needed him. She had no issue with that.

  “Well, if it ran under the bed, it’s probably not going to come back out again.” Joe smiled as he listened to his daughter. “Okay, how about this? You bunk down on the couch and I’ll check your room out when I’m back from my meeting? How does that sound?”

  Meeting?

  Joe said good-night to Ruby and ended the call. “Sorry. Ruby had a spider in her room. It only sounds like a huntsman, but she’s terrified of the things.”

  Hannah nodded. She told herself to ignore what she’d heard, but she couldn’t help herself. “You didn’t tell her about our date?”

  He looked uncomfortable for a moment, then he shrugged. “I haven’t dated anyone before and I wasn’t sure how she’d react. I know she loves you, but I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.”

  Hannah stared at him, wondering what he thought the wrong idea was. Then she thought about the sad, awkward little confessions they’d just made—her failed wedding, his dead wife—and her planned trip and his fierce protectiveness and sense of duty toward his kids.

  She shook her head slightly. “Who are we kidding?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Sorry?”

  She gestured toward the table, the candle, the wine. “All this, what happened the other night…I’m about to head off for months. You’ve got your kids. We’re both walking wounded. This was never going to happen.”

  He looked arrested for a moment, then his shoulders visibly relaxed. “You’re probably right. I’m not exactly the best catch at the moment.”

  “Second only to me, owner of a never-worn wedding dress.” She raised her wineglass. “To a bold attempt.”

  His eyes were warm with appreciation and humor as he lifted his own glass. “To bad timing.”

  She laughed and Joe joined in.

  The rest of the evening flew by. With the possibility of anything romantic developing between them well and truly put to bed, the tension dissolved and conversation flowed freely, ranging from childhood anecdotes to favorite movies to most coveted vintage car. Joe had a dry, quick sense of humor and he loved to tease her, his blue eyes dancing as he threw a contentious comment onto the table and waited for her to take the bait. He had a great laugh and she found herself doing everything she could to amuse him. She told him stories from her apprenticeship, shamelessly embroidering them so she could see the corners of his eyes crinkle and his mouth curve into a grin. He countered with his adventures as a young roustabout on the rigs, and they wound up comparing scars on their hands and forearms.

  “This one was completely my fault,” Joe said, tracing the wicked-looking curling scar she’d noticed when she first met him.

  “Let me guess—you were juggling knives?”

  “Close. A couple of guys and I were fishing off the platform one afternoon—”

  “You can fish off an oil rig?”

  “Hell yeah. Fish love it around a rig. They’re like shipwrecks, covered in barnacles below the water. Once you’ve got barnacles, you’ve got fish.”

  “Huh. Sorry, I interrupted. You were explaining how your tomfoolery scarred you for life.”

  He let her gibe pass. “We’d been out there for a few hours when I got a big tug on the line. A beauty, a giant trevally, looked about a hundred and eighty pounds.”

  “Looked about? Uh-oh, I sense a bad ending to this fishy tale.”

  “Yeah, well. He was a big boy, and it took me ages to bring him in. The other guys were hooting and hollering. When I finally landed him he was all snarled up in the line. Mick told me to let him be a while before cutting him free, but I was too impatient. So I grabbed my fishing knife and knelt down to cut the line, and the fish bucked like a bronco. I nearly took off my hand as well as cutting through the line. Meanwhile, the trevally slid off the platform and back into the ocean without so much as a goodbye and good luck.”

  “Selfish bastard. How many stitches did you need?”

  He shrugged. “Enough to learn my lesson.”

  “Which was what? Never take a knife to a fish fight?” she asked, deadpan.

  “Anyone ever told you you’ve got a mouth on you, Ms. Napier?”

  “Frequently and at great length.”

  “I bet.”

  They shared a dessert and lingered over coffee. By the time they were walking back to Joe’s car, Hannah was feeling warm with goodwill and the mouthful of hazelnut-flavored liqueur she’d had with her coffee.

  “Definitely you shouldn’t sack him,” she said as they walked along the Paris end of Collins Street—so-called because of the ornate European-influenced buildings lining either side of the road.

  “The guy who recommended the restaurant?” he asked.

  She smiled. She liked that he’d been able to follow her chain of thought without her explaining. “Yep. He did good.”

  “I know. I’m thinking of giving him a raise.”

  She spluttered out a laugh. “It wasn’t that good.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “You’re easily pleased.”

  “You have no idea.”

  She laughed again, aware that he was flirting with her but knowing it was meaningless. They’d both agreed that there was no future in the attraction between them. What was a little harmless flirtation between friends, after all? It had been a while since she’d felt this light and frivolous and had so much fun.

  They bantered some more in the car on the way home, the radio playing softly in the background. She was surprised when the car pulled into their street.

  “We’re here already,” she said stupidly when he pulled into the driveway of his house.

  “Seems like it.”

  “Huh.” She reached for her seat belt and slid it free. She started to frame a thank-you in her mind, but she didn’t want the evening to end yet. If she wasn’t living at her mother’s place, she’d invite him in for coffee. But she was. And he had kids and a sitter at his place….

  “Well, I had a great night. Thanks,” she said.

  “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

  “Yeah. Although I’ll probably be pretty busy getting stuff ready for my trip.”

  “Right. I’d forgotten about that for a moment.”

  His face was in shadows and she couldn’t read his expression, but there was a note of regret in his voice. Or maybe she was imagining it, because suddenly she was wishing all over again that things could be different between them.

  She shook her head minutely. Stupid to wish for things that were never going to happen.

  “Anyway, thanks,” she said again.

  “It was my pleasure.”

  She didn’t consciously think about her next move, she simply leaned across to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Except he turned his head, and instead she found herself kissing the warmth of his mouth. She pulled back a fraction and for a moment the car was very still, then Joe made an unintelligible sound—or maybe it was her—and they came together again, hands reaching for shoulders, heads angling, mouths pressing together an
d opening.

  He tasted of coffee and hazelnuts and the touch of his tongue against hers sent a thrill all the way through her body. In no seconds flat her heart was galloping and her body was on fire.

  His fingers slid into her hair, the pads of his fingers pressing into her skull as he urged her closer. She was only too happy to oblige. She wanted to taste him until the craving inside her was gone. She wanted to slide her hands over his body to discover if he really was as hot and hard as he looked. She wanted him to touch her, and she wanted to answer the question that had been echoing deep inside her ever since she’d first met him: what would it be like to be skin to skin with this man? To have him inside her?

  She made an encouraging noise as his hand slid down her shoulder to her breast. Her nipple was already hard and he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Desire pierced her, so sweet it made her shudder. She felt a tug as he opened her shirt and then his hand was sliding inside her bra to cup her bare flesh.

  “Yes,” she whispered against his mouth.

  He pulled her closer and the hand brake pressed into her belly. She broke their kiss long enough to throw a leg over the center console and scramble over it. Then there was nothing between them as she straddled Joe’s lap.

  His stubble rasped against her as he trailed kisses up her neck. She gasped as he tongued her ear. She could feel how aroused he was, his erection a thick, hot presence pressed against her wide-open thighs. She rotated her hips and it was his turn to groan. Hungry for more, she slid a hand beneath his shirt and pressed her palm against the firm muscles of his belly. He felt incredibly hot, and she slid her hand up to cover one of his firm, rounded pecs, her thumb finding his nipple.

  He tugged on her shirt some more until he was pushing it open, his gaze taking in her breasts with a single-minded intensity that made her feel like the most desirable woman on the planet. He lowered his head and ran his tongue along the lacy edge of her bra, then he used his teeth to pull her bra cup free even as his hands were busy behind her, undoing the clasp. His mouth closed over her nipple, hot and wet and she lost all power of thought. She wanted. That was all. The rest of the world ceased to exist.

  She slid her hand between their bodies to grasp the thick, long ridge of his erection through his jeans. His body tensed and his hips pressed upward encouragingly. She began to stroke him while he suckled and teased first one breast then the other.

  She was panting, mindless. His body was bowed toward her, tense with desire and need.

  “Hannah,” he said, his voice low and deep.

  “Yes. Please,” she said. “Hurry.”

  He reached for the stud on her jeans and she leaned backward to help him out. The sound of the car horn cut through the night like a siren. They both started and Hannah jerked away from the steering wheel.

  “Shit,” she whispered.

  A porch light came on. She had a sudden vision of a sleepy-eyed Ruby or Ben coming out to see what was keeping their father from coming inside.

  Joe must have shared her vision because they both scrambled for her shirt buttons at the same time.

  She threw a leg over the console and slithered awkwardly into the passenger seat, twisting around so she was facing the right way even as her fingers worked furiously at her buttons. By the time the front door was opening she was decent, even if her bra was hanging loose around her rib cage.

  “The babysitter,” Joe said as a young girl stepped onto the porch and looked curiously toward the car.

  “Grace Melville,” Hannah said, recognizing the teenager from across the street.

  “Yeah.”

  Joe gave Grace a reassuring wave and the girl ducked back into the house. He ran a hand over his face and exhaled loudly.

  “Probably just as well,” he said after a moment.

  She nodded.

  “It’s not like it was ever going to go anywhere,” he added.

  “No.”

  “And we’re both too old for car sex. So, really, being interrupted was a good thing.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” she said drily.

  He looked at her, startled. She didn’t bother trying to hide how frustrated she was, how much she still wanted him. His mouth crooked into a faint smile. “Yeah, well, there is that.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. She held out her hand.

  “I had a nice time. Thanks.”

  “Nice?” He raised his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed with the lukewarm adjective.

  “Parts of it were exceptional, but I’m marking you down for failure to complete.”

  “You’re the one who sat on the horn.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  He laughed at her double entendre. At last he took her hand. His fingers closed around hers, warm and firm. “There we go with the bad timing again.”

  “And then some.”

  She slid her hand free. “Good night, Joe.”

  “Good night.”

  She exited the car, closing the door quietly. She let herself into the house and walked on her toes across the tiled floor, in case her mother was still awake. She didn’t want to talk right now. She was still buzzing with arousal, disappointment and frustration. She reached her bedroom and eased the door closed. For a moment she simply stood there, her back pressed against the door.

  She felt as though she’d just had a glimpse of something wonderful and impossible. Something good and real.

  Her gaze fell on the road atlas she’d been using to plan her route and she straightened.

  They’d already agreed at dinner: it wasn’t going to happen between them. Too many problems, too many obstacles, too much baggage. A handful of great kisses and some heavy-duty lust didn’t change any of that, no matter how much her frustrated body wanted it to.

  Heavy with regret, she got ready for bed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JOE FELT LIKE A KID. A horny, dumb, inarticulate kid. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself that Hannah Napier was a dead end, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting her. He slept badly after their interrupted tryst in the car and the next day he kept one eye on the door of The Watering Hole for most of the afternoon until he realized he was waiting for her to enter. As soon as he acknowledged his own subconscious desire he also acknowledged that she wouldn’t be coming into the pub that day, not after what had almost happened between them. She wasn’t the kind of woman who played games. She was going away, he was staying. There was no point pretending otherwise, even if the physical chemistry between them was hot enough to launch a rocket. He appreciated the clear-cut honesty of it, of her. But he still wanted her.

  That night when Ruby asked if she could go next door to help Hannah with her bike, he found himself making the short walk next door alongside his daughter. Hannah was hunkered down cleaning the rusty front forks of the Thunderbird with some steel wool and she glanced up with a smile when Ruby said hello.

  “I was wondering if I was going to see you tonight,” she said. Her gaze flicked to him and away again, but the extra color in her cheeks told him she was every bit as aware of him as he was of her and that last night was still on her mind.

  “I was thinking you might need an extra pair of hands,” he said.

  Her eyebrows rose. “You want to help me strip rust off old bike parts?”

  “Sure. Why not? Ben’s doing his homework, I’m finished at the pub for the night. And like I told you, I always wanted one of these things.”

  And he wanted to be around her, even if it meant nothing and went nowhere.

  He had the good sense not to say the last part out loud.

  “Okay, sure. Grab some steel wool.” She darted a sideway glance his way as he helped Ruby tear off a chunk of fine-grade steel wool, but she didn’t say anything more.

  “Maybe we could do this bit together, Daddy,” Ruby suggested, pointing to the rear wheel rim.

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  Ruby sat cross-legged on the concrete and began
to attack one end of the once-shiny rim. He squatted and began working on the other side.

  “Guess what we did at school today, Hannah,” Ruby said.

  “Um, reading? ’Rithmatic? ’Roo wrestling?” Hannah guessed.

  Ruby laughed. “None of those things. We had to make a car of the future in art class.”

  “Wow. I bet you a million dollars egg cartons and pipe cleaners were involved.” Hannah was smiling, her attention on her work.

  “How did you know?” Ruby asked, eyes wide.

  He laughed and Hannah glanced up and met his eyes. For a moment something warm and bittersweet unfolded inside him.

  I could get to really like you, Hannah Napier. I could get to really admire your salty wit and your take-no-prisoners attitude and that sexy, curvy body of yours.

  Too bad she was going away.

  HE HELPED RUBY AND HANNAH out again on Wednesday after dinner but when he was about to slip next door on Thursday night Ben looked up from his Nintendo game with a frown.

  “What’s so good about next door, anyway?”

  “Why don’t you come with us and see? I’m sure Hannah would welcome the extra pair of hands.”

  “That would be so cool. If we all work together we can finish the bike really quickly,” Ruby said enthusiastically.

  Ben scowled at the TV screen, his thumbs twiddling aimlessly with the game controls.

  Joe stepped into his son’s line of vision. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  Rolling his eyes, Ben tossed the game controller onto the couch. “This had better be good,” he said as he slouched toward the front door.

  Joe suppressed a smile and followed his kids out into the street. Hannah looked surprised to see her new recruit, but she quickly recovered. “Excellent. More slaves to do my bidding. Hope you like grease, Ben.”

  Ben shrugged, eyes downcast. Hannah didn’t let his manner put her off. Over the next hour, she checked in with him regularly as they all worked at cleaning bike parts. Joe watched surreptitiously as Ben slowly thawed and relaxed. By bedtime Ben was laughing at Hannah’s jokes and trying out a few of his own.