Coming Home for Christmas

by Marie Ferrarella

Spent, exhausted, she lay beside Keith, missing him already.

  “Wow,” he murmured a moment later, too tired to pretend to be unaffected. “A few more times like that and I very well might not be able to move again.” He felt her mouth curving in a smile against his chest as he held her. “What?” he asked, curious what had made her smile like that.

  Curious, he realized, about everything having to do with her. Dangerous thoughts for a man who was leaving the day after tomorrow, he silently warned. Not just leaving, but for all intents and purpose, never returning to the region again.

  “You just gave me an idea,” she told him, her eyes dancing as she raised herself up on her elbow, her hair brushing tantalizingly along his skin.

  He wasn’t even sure just what he’d said, much less what it might have suggested to her. “What kind of an idea?” he asked.

  “I plan to love you into a stupor.” So you can’t leave. “I don’t want to waste my breath talking.” She curled her body along his like a seductive snake.

  “What do you want to waste it on?” he heard himself asking.

  She was smiling into his eyes just before she answered him—kind of.

  “Guess.”

  And then she didn’t give him a chance to say anything further. He couldn’t if he’d wanted to. Her mouth was sealed to his, creating blissful havoc.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It felt strange waking up beside her. Strange how very right it felt, even though he’d never allowed his barriers to be lowered to this extent, never spent the night with any woman he had made love with. Spending the night whispered of the beginnings of a commitment. And a commitment was something he had never wanted, never allowed himself to want.

  And yet, here he was, of his own free will, finding a certain sort of comfort in the simple act of listening to her breathe.

  Well, don’t get used to it. You’re leaving tomorrow, remember? If you don’t, if you keep finding excuses to hang around, you’re going to regret it. You know that you will.

  His arm tightened around Kenzie, as if that could somehow hold reality—his reality—at bay a little while longer.

  At least just for today.

  He felt Kenzie stirring beside him. The next moment, her eyes opened and she smiled at him. “Hi.”

  Everything inside him smiled back at her.

  “Hi yourself.” He did his best not to sound distracted or give her any indication of the war that was currently being waged within him. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked, his arm automatically tightening around her when he thought about leaving Kenzie.

  “I don’t know,” Kenzie admitted sleepily. “Did you shake me?”

  “No.” Technically, he hadn’t, he told himself, knowing he was falling back on semantics.

  “Then I guess you didn’t wake me.” Kenzie stretched, stifling a yawn, unaware of how sensual she looked or how something as simple as her stretching like that was arousing him. “Want breakfast?”

  “Eventually,” he told her, drawing her back into his arms.

  And just like that, Kenzie was wide awake. “Oh. Dessert first,” she said with approval, her eyes shining. “Good. I like dessert.”

  “You talk too much, Kenzie,” he told her, beginning to kiss the sides of her neck and causing those delicious sensations to start leaping through her.

  “So I’ve been told,” Kenzie murmured just before he brought his mouth to hers and she couldn’t say another word—and didn’t want to.

  * * *

  “I was beginning to think you two weren’t coming,” Andrea said, opening the door to admit her daughter and Keith.

  She hugged each warmly, starting with Keith, before either of them even had a chance to cross the threshold into the house.

  Kenzie exchanged glances with Keith, her mouth curving as she thought of what had delayed them. “Wrapping presents took longer than we anticipated,” she explained.

  “Wrapping presents,” Andrea repeated.

  The expression on her mother’s face told Kenzie that she wasn’t fooled for a minute—and she couldn’t have been more pleased about it.

  Don’t get used to it, Mom. He’s leaving on a jet plane come tomorrow—or the day after, but he is leaving, just like the song says, she thought sadly.

  Kenzie wasn’t altogether sure if the silent caution echoing in her head was meant for her mother or for her.

  Even standing here amid the warmth of family, with Keith right next to her, she could feel the ache beginning.

  God, but she didn’t want him to go.

  “Well,” Andrea was saying, hooking one arm through each of theirs, “as long as you’re both finally here, that’s all that counts.” She beamed at each in turn, then announced, “It’s official. We can start the Christmas party now.”

  “Your mother’s kidding, right?” Keith said to her the moment Andrea moved on. “She really didn’t mean she was holding up the party until we got here—did she?” he asked skeptically.

  She would have loved to have reassured him—or, even simpler, pretended not to know the answer to his question. But if their time together was limited, she wouldn’t mar it by lying, even though the answer would probably make him uneasy.

  “My mother is a very happy, upbeat person, but certain things she doesn’t kid about. Christmas parties aren’t complete until everyone in the family attends. She’s been like that ever since I can remember.”

  That might have been true, but in his opinion, Kenzie seemed to be overlooking one very salient point. “I’m not family.”

  She shrugged as if the matter was out of her hands. “Apparently, you are—for tonight.”

  Maybe he shouldn’t have come, after all, Keith thought. He was only getting further entrenched in a situation he had no business being in. He shouldn’t allow her family to see him in a light that wasn’t anywhere near accurate—no matter how seductive that light might temporarily be to him.

  The next moment, however, as he was swept up in the festivities, the thought, born of self-preservation, vanished.

  * * *

  “Your mother shouldn’t have bought me presents,” he protested late that night when he and Kenzie had returned to his house.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Kenzie assured him. “My mother loves buying presents. It makes her happy.” She slipped off her coat and let it drape over the back of the sofa. She laced her hands through his as she looked up into his face, desperately trying not to think beyond the moment. “Consider it helping her find a reason to satisfy her shopping craving.”

  He shook his head as he marveled, “You know, the way you can twist things around until they fit the occasion, you would make quite a lawyer.”

  Kenzie demurred having the label applied to her. “Uh-uh, not my style. People don’t like lawyers.” She managed to get the line out while keeping a straight face.

  He ran the back of his hand along her cheek. “Until they need one.”

  Kenzie could already feel herself melting. “Good point. And I suddenly find myself in desperate need of one.”

  Dropping his hands, she draped her arms around the back of his neck. She leaned into him just enough to have all the vital parts of their bodies touch. She could feel the sparks being set off already.

  “And why would you be in desperate need of a lawyer?” he teased.

  “Because we’re standing under mistletoe.” Kenzie grinned as she pointed over his head. “And I have this overwhelming, uncontrollable urge to kiss a lawyer.”

  Curious, he looked up. Kenzie was right. There was mistletoe hanging from the light fixture, and it was directly over their heads. He was certain the mistletoe hadn’t been there when’d they left for her mother’s party.

  Or had it?

  “Who put that there?” he as
ked her.

  Her shoulders rose and fell in complete innocence. “Elves?” she guessed. “Enough with the small talk,” Kenzie told him. “Like I said, I have this sudden need to fulfill a fantasy and kiss a lawyer.”

  Tomorrow he just might be on that flight back to the rest of his life. But he was still here tonight, and it was up to him to make the very most of every second he had. So he shoved the oppressive weight of his thoughts aside and did his best to grab a festive attitude.

  “At your service, ma’am,” he told her, closing his arms around Kenzie.

  Her eyes shone as she replied, “I certainly hope so.” And then she put him to the test.

  * * *

  It wasn’t supposed to be this hard, Keith told himself early the next morning—Christmas morning. He should have been gone several days ago, not lingering like this, looking for yet another excuse to stay a day longer.

  He had a life waiting for him in San Francisco, he silently insisted. A career to get back to. Here he was just floating around in limbo.

  The bulk of his mother’s possessions had already been sold and picked up, thanks to Kenzie’s unique ability to sell ice to polar bears. What was left he’d decided to donate to the shelter where Kenzie volunteered rather than have her try to sell it on consignment at her shop.

  He hadn’t been sure how she would react to that when he proposed it on the way home last night. The straight donation meant she wouldn’t be getting a percentage of the sale. But Kenzie, being Kenzie, had been happy about his decision.

  “It’s the right thing to do,” she’d told him. “Trust me, it’ll mean a lot more to someone at the shelter than it would to some shopper who’ll most likely leave what she bought in her garage or the back of her closet once the novelty wears off.”

  The house, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be generating enough interest, which in turn meant it wasn’t about to sell soon. But then, given the season and what Mrs. Sommers had told him, Keith had to admit he wasn’t really surprised. Since he didn’t need the money, there was no urgency to sell the house.

  There was also no need for him to hang around.

  No real need except that he wanted to.

  Which was why he needed to leave. Needed to leave now, before Kenzie looked at him and said something that would make him weaken. That would make him stay.

  So while Kenzie ran an errand—dropping off Christmas gifts at the homes of the two assistants who worked for her—Keith packed his suitcase.

  He’d almost given in to the temptation to leave before she returned—it would mean having to spend an extra hour at the airport, but then at least the break would be a clean one.

  At the last moment, he decided to tell her goodbye in person. She deserved that.

  Anything else would have been cowardly. Maybe it was vanity on his part, but he didn’t want Kenzie to remember him that way—being too cowardly to face her. So he stayed, giving her an hour, waiting for the sound of her turning the doorknob and returning.

  Waiting was agony.

  And then he heard her opening the door.

  The moment she walked in, Kenzie understood.

  She didn’t even have to see the suitcase standing on the floor behind the coffee table to know that Keith was leaving. And it wasn’t even the suit he had on that gave him away. The expression on his face did it, the somber look in his eyes.

  Her heart drained, her head throbbing, she started talking without comprehending what would come out of her mouth.

  “You’re leaving early,” she said.

  “No,” he contradicted her, the word feeling wooden in his mouth, “I’m leaving late. I should have left two days ago. But I bumped back the ticket.”

  She knew that already. She’d overheard him doing it and kept praying he’d do it again—or throw away the ticket altogether.

  This was where she had an opportunity to save face, to say something blasé and glib. This was where she began to distance herself from him.

  She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be anything but honest with him. The other facade wouldn’t have been her. “I was hoping you bumped it back until the day after New Year’s.”

  Not that he hadn’t been tempted, but it would have been even harder with that much more time going by. “I would still have to leave,” he pointed out.

  “Maybe,” she conceded. “But it wouldn’t be today,” she told him quietly.

  Logic. He had to hang onto logic. Emotions would be his downfall. “Kenzie, I don’t live here anymore.”

  She pressed her lips together, obviously trying not to cry. “I know.” The words came out in a whisper.

  If he’d left already, he wouldn’t have to be agonizing through this conversation now. He didn’t want to see her hurting. “My law firm is in San Francisco.”

  “I know,” Kenzie repeated almost stoically.

  His cell phone rang just then, and he glanced down at his pocket as if the phone was intruding.

  “Better get that,” she told him stiffly. “Might be your firm wanting to know what’s keeping you.”

  You. What’s keeping me is you, Keith told her silently.

  But he knew that was exactly why he had to leave today. Leave now. Because if he didn’t, he might not go at all, and he had to. Otherwise he wouldn’t be who he really was.

  So he turned away to answer his cell, trying to regroup. He didn’t want to make this any harder for either of them.

  Moving aside, he took his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. Kenzie was right. One of the firm’s senior partners was having his secretary call him, no doubt to verify that he would be on the five o’clock flight out of John Wayne Airport.

  “Hello,” he snapped. “This is O’Connell.” And then he listened to the woman on the other end for a minute. Her end of the conversation was very sparse. And predictable.

  “I’ll be on it,” he told the woman, his throat feeling incredibly dry as he forced the words out. He ended the call and tucked the phone back into his pocket before turning around to face Kenzie again.

  He was stalling because he didn’t know what to say to her or how to say it. The idea of the getaway he’d turned his back on earlier began to feel like a missed opportunity.

  That didn’t change the fact that he still had to get through this. Taking a breath, he forced himself to speak.

  “I guess this is it,” he began.

  “I guess so,” she agreed stiffly, her dry tone matching his.

  He had to be honest with her even though he wanted to say anything that would take that stricken but brave look off her face. “I won’t tell you I’ll be back, because I don’t know if I will. Maybe I’ll have to come back when Mrs. Sommers sells the house—”

  “She can mail you the papers,” Kenzie said, her tone implying that there was no reason for him to return—at least, not if that was his only reason for coming back.

  “I guess she can,” he agreed.

  With nothing left to stop him, Keith picked up his suitcase. More than anything, he wanted to take her into his arms, to kiss her one last time—long and hard, because this kiss was going to have to last him. But if he stopped to kiss her like that, he was fairly certain that he wouldn’t make it out the door.

  So instead, his hand just tightened around his suitcase—he did it to keep from grabbing her. “Goodbye, Kenzie. Thanks for everything.”

  She could feel the tears beginning to gather in her eyes. Damn it, Keith needed to leave before she broke down altogether. She didn’t want him to see her crying. Didn’t want him to think it was some cheap feminine ploy. Most of all, she didn’t want to break down because if he saw her crying and still walked away, she knew she couldn’t survive that sort of heartbreak.

  So rather than make a comment, or give in to her natural instinc
ts and throw her arms around him, or kiss him goodbye while saying something to him that she would regret, Kenzie just said goodbye and walked out the door ahead of him, her head held high.

  She didn’t pause to glance back, to see if he was watching her. She just looked straight ahead and walked as quickly as she could to her car. The second she got in, she closed the door.

  Turning the key, she started the vehicle, telling herself over and over again not to cry until she had at least gotten out of his cul-de-sac.

  She didn’t quite make it.

  The tears started coming before she had a chance to make the left turn onto the through street that ultimately led out of the development. Blinking madly didn’t keep them at bay, didn’t curb the flow.

  A part of her had clung to the hope that he’d change his mind at the last minute.

  But he hadn’t.

  Keith stood in his driveway, watching her drive away, struggling with the very strong desire to run after her and make her turn the car around and come back.

  To what end? he asked himself. He had to leave. An extra hour or even an extra day wasn’t going to change that. Being here in Bedford wasn’t what his life was about anymore. He’d forged a new life for himself in San Francisco. It had taken him ten years to do it, but it was solid now and he had a commitment to the firm he worked for.

  He couldn’t just contemplate throwing all that away on a whim because he’d had an unexpectedly nice eight days here. People went away to exotic places on vacation, but they didn’t suddenly uproot their entire lives and move there just because they had had a nice few days. That would have been completely crazy.

  He knew better than that.

  He knew exactly what he was leaving and what was waiting for him when the plane landed.

  He knew.

  Keith’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he pressed down harder on the accelerator. He told himself not to think because right now that would only serve to confuse matters.

  Most of all, he told himself not to feel.

  That used to be a lot easier to do when he had nothing to feel about, he thought.