HOLLY AND MISTLETOE

by Susan Mallery

"That's a nice way of putting it." He thought about the past. "If I'd figured the truth out sooner, about my father and Louise, I mean—"

  "What would you have done? You were too young to have made any changes."

  "You're probably right." They paused by the front steps of Travis's Victorian home. Everyone else had gone inside.

  Holly stood on the first step so they were nearly at eye level. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "So you admit you were young and didn't know what to do?"

  "Sure, if it makes you happy."

  Her gaze locked on to his. "Louise was young, too." Jordan tried to turn away and she tightened her hold on him. He could have broken away easily, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

  "It's not going to work, Holly."

  "Why not? It's true. She was seventeen years old. She made a mistake. You've just admitted you could have made mistakes, too. Why does it have to be all her fault? Your father was the adult. If anyone deserves blame, it's him."

  He didn't want to argue about this, and he didn't want to listen to her words. "What's your point?"

  "I'm saying that it might be easier to blame Louise than to blame your father, but that doesn't change the truth."

  He stared at her a long time. He didn't want to believe what she was saying, but he wasn't sure he could continue to ignore it.

  She studied him, her pretty face solemn. Then she smiled and took his hand. "Come inside where it's warm," she said, tugging him along with her.

  As her words sank in and he took a step closer, he had a flash of longing so intense, it took his breath away. He knew she was talking about going into the house and out of the cold, but for that single heartbeat he wanted her to be talking about more. He wanted her to be inviting him into her heart.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

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  They arrived home close to midnight. Holly knew she should be tired. She'd been up most of the previous night talking with Jordan, then had put in a full day at the store. Customers had been waiting when she'd first opened the doors, and she'd had to stay late to take care of everyone's requests. It seemed many people had saved their Christmas shopping for the last minute.

  Instead of exhaustion, however, she felt a strange restlessness. The caroling had been great fun. The more time she spent with Jordan's family, the more she adored them. He was lucky to have so many people to care about him. For the first time in years she understood the meaning of security. Although it was only a temporary situation, she trusted Jordan to look out for her. She hadn't trusted anyone in so long. The sensation was unfamiliar, but she was willing to risk getting used to it. Jordan held the door open for her, then stepped into the house behind her. He flipped on the lights in the foyer.

  "It's so quiet," she whispered, then giggled. "I guess I can talk in a normal voice. There's no one here to wake up."

  "Except the damn cat."

  He took her coat and hung it up in the hall closet. Holly looked in the living room, but didn't see a sign of Mistletoe. She frowned. Her cat didn't like Jordan, but she always came out to spit at him. Mistletoe also came to greet Holly and get her cuddling.

  "Mistletoe?" she called.

  Jordan glanced at her. "What's the problem?"

  "She's usually waiting for us by the door." A seed of worry planted low in her belly. "I hope she didn't get out."

  "Unlikely. You saw her right before we left, right?"

  Holly nodded.

  "I was the last one out, and I know I closed the door. I had to unlock it to get back in. Louise was baby-sitting the children all evening, so she wasn't here to accidentally let Mistletoe out. She's probably sleeping upstairs."

  "You're right. She's been a little tired lately. Maybe she didn't hear us come in." Holly started for the stairs.

  "I'll check the downstairs," Jordan said.

  "Thanks."

  She sighed softly. She knew he didn't care much for her cat. And she couldn't really blame him, given that Mistletoe had taken an instant dislike to Jordan.

  The old house was silent. Holly went from room to room switching on lights. Some of the second-story bedrooms had furniture, but most were bare.

  Louise had a room right by the stairs. The housekeeper had fallen asleep in Travis and Elizabeth's guest room, and they'd left her there. Travis had promised to bring her back in the morning. Now Holly got on her knees and checked under the four-poster bed. Nothing. She checked the closet and even the small space behind the dresser.

  "Mistletoe? Where are you?" she called as she entered the hallway.

  She was halfway to her room when she heard Jordan's voice from the first floor.

  "I found her," he said. "In my room."

  She headed toward him. He was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. There was an odd light in his eyes and a half smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  He took her hand. "Congratulations. You're a grandmother."

  "Mistletoe gave birth? Is she okay?"

  "She looks great. There are four kittens."

  Elation followed on the heels of relief. She quickened her step. "I thought she was acting a little odd these last couple of days. I should have realized."

  They entered Jordan's makeshift room. The closet door was open. Clothes had been pulled off hangers to create a nest. Mistletoe lay in the center, curled protectively around four tiny kittens.

  Three were gray like their mother, and one was black. Mistletoe blinked sleepily, then gave a throaty purr.

  Holly crouched down next to her and stroked her head. "What a clever girl you are. Four wonderful babies." She petted her cat but didn't disturb the kittens. They were so tiny, with thin, slick fur.

  "Are you hungry?" Holly asked, then glanced at Jordan. "Do you think we should move her food in here along with her litter box? Then she wouldn't have to go so far."

  "Sure." He rose to his feet and left.

  While he was gone, Holly continued to speak softly to her cat. Mistletoe savored the attention, as if she knew she'd done a wonderful thing.

  "She's not even spitting at you," Holly said when he returned with the cat's food and water.

  "Oh, I think she got back at me already tonight." He pointed to the makeshift bed.

  For the first time Holly realized Mistletoe had given birth on a pile of Jordan's clothes. On top was his favorite sweater.

  "Oh, no." She covered her mouth with her hand and stared at him. "Jordan, I'm so sorry."

  "It's not your fault."

  She dropped her hand to her side. "You're not mad?"

  "It's just some clothes, Holly. If they can't be cleaned, then they can be replaced."

  "But Mistletoe has been so mean to you, and it's her fault you were injured in the first place."

  He touched her arm. "It's okay. I swear."

  She looked into his dark eyes, then studied the shape of his mouth. Her own father hadn't been willing to help her mother when she was dying. Through her life many people had let her down. But this man had opened his home to her, introduced her to his family and generally made her feel as if she finally belonged somewhere.

  Deep in her heart, in a place that had been empty and cold for so long, a tiny flicker of hope burned brightly. She didn't understand the tingling she felt when Jordan was near or the pleasure she took in his company or the way his kisses and touches had made her feel. She didn't understand anything. She only knew that he was the most wonderful man she'd ever met in her life, and she would have done anything for him.

  Jordan reached past her. Mistletoe eyed him mistrustfully, then sniffed his fingers. When she was done, he gently stroked the top of her head. The cat didn't purr, but she didn't pull away, either. After a couple of minutes he rose to his feet.

  "Maybe we should let them be," he said, holding out his hand.

  She took it and he pulled her up. "You're right. I'm sure she needs to rest."

  As they walked through the library, he
continued to hold her hand. Holly thought about pointing out the fact, but she liked the feel of him so close to her. When they reached the living room, he paused in front of the fireplace.

  "Maybe we should celebrate," he said. "I've got some champagne in the refrigerator."

  The only light came from the Christmas tree. She could see the planes of his face, the shape of his body, but the rest of the room disappeared into shadow. They were alone in the house, and she felt as if they were in fact alone in the world. Her stomach tightened nervously.

  "I'd like that," she said, and sank down on the thick carpet.

  Jordan moved to the fireplace, where he touched a match to the kindling and logs stacked there. The dry tinder caught instantly. By the time he returned with two half-full glasses, the scent of wood smoke mingled with the piney fragrance of the tree.

  He detoured around the back of the sofa and hit a button on the CD player. After a couple of seconds she heard the opening bars to a familiar Christmas carol. He settled on the floor next to her and held out one of the glasses.

  As she took it, she noticed her fingers trembled. She could barely touch her glass to his when he proposed a toast. Her throat was tight, her skin both hot and cold, her gaze unable to hold his. The urge to bolt for safety battled with the need to stay and be close to him.

  She glanced at the tall tree they had decorated last week, then at the fire. Anywhere but at the handsome man sitting next to her.

  "You're so beautiful," he murmured.

  She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." She shifted until she was sitting cross-legged, then set her champagne on a nearby coffee table.

  Jordan frowned. "You don't think you're attractive?"

  The question confused her. "I don't think I have to wear a paper bag over my head, if that's what you're asking. But beautiful?" She shook her head. "I'm not like those actresses on television – skinny and sophisticated with perfect makeup."

  "I wouldn't think you were beautiful if you were like them." He set his champagne next to hers, then leaned closer. He fingered a strand of her hair. "Soft. Just like I thought it would be." He cupped the back of her head and held her still. "Amazing."

  She blinked. He was kidding, right? Or she was dreaming. She wasn't really having this conversation with him. Jordan Haynes, single hunk, didn't really think she was attractive, did he?

  "But I have to lose fifteen pounds," she blurted out, then felt herself flush with embarrassment. "I don't have skinny thighs."

  He pressed his lips against the side of her neck. "I don't want skinny thighs. You're perfect the way you are."

  "But everything is too big." His lips were making her skin tingle, and she was having trouble forming words.

  He moved to her earlobe and nibbled on the sensitive skin. "Trust me, Holly. You're built to drive men wild."

  She jerked her head back and stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

  But he wasn't smiling. His eyes were dark, his expression intense. If she hadn't known him so well, he might have frightened her.

  "Jordan?"

  "Trust me. Men want you."

  He might well have been speaking Russian. "Even you?" she asked without thinking, then could have cheerfully died. Right there on the rug. Instant death. She wouldn't have complained at all.

  Unfortunately she continued to live. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Stupid question. I'll just head up to my room and bury my head under the pillows."

  But before she could stand, he had his arms around her and was lowering her onto the rug. The fire in his eyes burned hotter and brighter than the one in the hearth.

  "Especially me," he said, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn't identify. Then he kissed her.

  This time she was prepared for the sensations he evoked. At the first brush of his mouth, her body filled with heat. By the time he got around to testing the seam of her mouth with his lips, she was already weak with longing.

  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. He was hard muscle and angles to her curves. His long legs brushed against hers.

  He tasted her, explored her mouth, teased her until she couldn't catch her breath. She laced her fingers through his hair, feeling the silky strands. With her other hand she traced a line down his spine. She could feel the heat of him through his shirt.

  Unexpectedly Jordan pulled away. He rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with his forearm. "Damn, this is going to hurt."

  Holly stared at him. "What's wrong? I thought your back was doing better. Did you overdo it at physical therapy today?"

  He gave a weak laugh. "My back is great," he said. "I don't feel a thing … there."

  Then what was hurting? "I don't understand."

  "Do you remember the last time we did this?" He dropped his hand to his chest.

  She nodded slowly. She remembered every detail of the magic she'd felt in his arms. Some nights she couldn't sleep because she was remembering. Her body got hot, and she felt an odd restlessness.

  "When a man wants to make love, his body changes." She knew enough about the process to have figured that part out, but she didn't say anything. She also didn't dare lower her gaze from his face. Was he … like that? Would she be able to tell?

  Jordan sat up and rubbed his hand over his face. "Arousal brings a certain amount of pleasure, which later turns to pain if it's not followed by release. Last time—"

  She shot into a sitting position as if she'd been jolted with electricity. Humiliation flooded her. Last time he'd touched her and made her feel those wonderful things, but he'd done nothing for himself.

  "I'm sorry," she said softly. "You must think I'm a thoughtless, selfish…" Her voice trailed off. She didn't have any words. She'd been a jerk. Or worse.

  "Just innocent," he told her. "You didn't know."

  "You should have told me. I would have done, well, something!"

  "I'm intrigued to imagine what."

  She risked glancing at him and saw that he was teasing her. Then his smile faded.

  "Holly, you've never seen a man naked. You can't be expected to understand the workings of male anatomy or the details involved in making love."

  He had a point. "What if I want to?" she asked without thinking. She flinched in anticipation of his rejection, but didn't take the words back.

  "See me naked or make love?"

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he didn't look mad. "B-both."

  The silence made her nervous. Oh, there were Christmas carols in the background, and the snapping of the logs on the fire, but Jordan didn't speak. Of course he wouldn't want her. She wasn't like his other women. She wasn't attractive enough or experienced. He wouldn't want to bother with her.

  "I'm sorry," she said, and started to stand up. "My mistake." She had to get out of here before she started to cry.

  He grabbed her hand and held her fast. "Don't go," he said. "Please." He gave her a half smile. "I want to make love with you, Holly. I'm stunned that you would pick me to be your first. Stunned and honored."

  "Yeah?" She wanted to believe him.

  He kissed her gently. "Yeah."

  They stared at each other for a moment. She swallowed nervously. "What do you want me to do?"

  "Just sit there. I'll be right back."

  He headed for the stairs and took them two at a time. At least he wasn't acting as if this was going to be hideous. A small but comforting thought. She pressed a hand against her now-fluttering tummy and wondered if she was making a mistake.

  She laughed softly. No. She'd chosen wisely. Jordan was tender and considerate. He would make her first time wonderful. With him, she wouldn't mind being awkward and asking questions. He had a way of easing her discomfort, even when she was embarrassed.

  He returned with a thick quilt and a small box. She got up and helped him spread the quilt in front of the Christmas tree. Then she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Are you sure it's okay to do it here?"
r />   He kissed her forehead. "We can do it anywhere you like. I thought this would be romantic."

  She glanced around at the tree and the flickering fire. It was romantic. "Okay."

  He set the box next to the champagne glasses. "I'll take care of protection."

  "P-protection?" She took a step back. Oh my gosh. They were going to have sex. Sex as in they needed protection. She stared at the box as if it contained live snakes.

  "Holly, are you all right?"

  "Ah, fine."

  He stood in front of her and took both her hands in his. His dark gaze met hers. "I know this is strange and you're scared. I wish I had the right words, but I don't. I'm just as scared as you are."

  Somehow that was comforting. "But you've done this before."

  "Not with you."

  Interesting logic. She liked it. "I'm afraid I'm going to say or do something stupid."

  "I'll promise not to laugh if you will."

  "Why would I laugh?"

  He smiled. "Sex is pretty silly. Have a seat." He settled next to her, then reached for the box. "These are condoms. Have you seen one before?"

  She shook her head.

  He opened the box and dumped the contents onto the quilt. Before she could pick one up, he was undoing the box and smoothing it flat. She glanced down and was stunned to see detailed instructions along with some odd-looking illustrations.

  "They tell you how to use them?" she asked, her voice rising into a shriek.

  "How else would you learn?"

  "I thought guys just sort of knew."

  "Sorry. At the beginning we're just as nervous and ignorant as everyone else."

  She scanned the instructions. Involuntarily her gaze dropped to Jordan's lap. He was wearing jeans, and she couldn't tell if he was "erect" as they mentioned in step one. If she couldn't even tell that, how on earth was she going to figure anything else out?

  Before she could panic even more, he reached for one of the packages and ripped it open.

  "W-what are you doing?" she asked, terrified the next step was undoing his pants and pulling "it" out.

  "Trying to show you it's not scary." He handed her the open package. "Take it out."

  She assumed he meant "it" as in the condom and not "it" as in, well, his "it." She cleared her throat, then dumped the contents onto her palm.