by Jean Oram
“So your enemies get off easy?” She leaned into him. “Nice.”
He laughed, his breath tickling her ear.
Simone stepped from his embrace to refill her already full glass and JC slipped in behind her, his hands gliding around her waist. She found herself leaning against him yet again. What kind of game were they playing? They had unsettled business to discuss before they moved down the path they were on.
She spun in his grip and he stepped back, probably thinking she wanted him to let go. If only he knew how much she craved his touch, his steady presence.
She held her glass between them as though in protection and he took it, wrapping his hand around hers, trapping her fingers momentarily as zings of her body’s approval sang through her. The hormones—even a week later—must still be in her system. Or else it was simply the impact of having a steamy hunk of male standing in front of her with a whole lot of carnal desire flickering in his gaze. She’d love to run her fingers over his abs again, only this time without numb fingers so she could feel every ridge of muscle twisting under his skin as her touch led to reactions within him.
“Simone?”
She dragged her attention away from his crisp dress shirt, waiting for him to continue, but his sister entered the room, her body language apologetic as she fetched beverages for more arrivals.
JC, gaze locked on hers, set her glass aside.
“Josh, can you do me a favor and show Simone the new bedspread in the guest room?” Polly turned to Simone. “The color combination is exquisite. I could totally see you creating something with those tones. If you need the quilt for inspiration, feel free to take it home with you.”
The woman moved away, picking up a previous conversational thread with her guests before Simone could protest the setup. Oh, Polly was good.
“Not at all awkward,” JC mumbled in amusement as he led the way.
“Well,” Simone said, pushing away her nervousness, “I did want to talk to you in private.” They turned down a hall, the sound of music growing fainter. “Why does your sister call you Josh and not JC?”
“Nobody other than you has called me JC since high school. Hard to believe, but I did grow up and move away from my troublemaking days.”
Another dig, well deserved, but a dig intended to keep her and her assumptions about him in check. On Nymph Island she’d been so intent on holding him at bay that she hadn’t even noticed everyone called him Josh, leaving her the only one stuck in the past. She hadn’t given him an equal chance—well, any chance at all, if she was going to be honest about it. She had judged him based on her own insecurities and issues, as well as his past. Hardly fair. And time and again he had proved to be more than that.
“Do you prefer to be called Josh?”
He nodded.
As they passed a small table laden with various ceramic Santas, Simone quickly turned, sliding her palms up Josh’s chest to prevent him from continuing forward. It was time to apologize. It was what she had come for.
He bumped into her, snatching her waist to steady them. Awareness shot through her as their bodies pressed against each other. She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling nervous about her plan of putting herself out there. She wanted Josh, didn’t want this feeling to end, but was afraid that he’d reject her if she allowed herself to be vulnerable.
“Is this private enough?” he asked, his voice low and rough with something that made Simone’s pulse pound in anticipation of something delicious.
She nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the vacant hallway. He deftly snagged her by the wrists, pulling her against him as he pivoted to pin her against the wall.
“You look like you want to bolt,” he said gently. The length of his hard body was pressed into hers and she finally felt as though she could breathe, think straight.
“I’m not having a baby.”
Okay, that wasn’t how she had planned on starting the conversation, but it was a definite icebreaker.
His grip loosened ever so slightly. “Why?” His expression lightened, his eyebrows suddenly raised in understanding. “Oh, the flu?”
The flu wouldn’t have interfered with her appointment, but she loved that he was thoughtful enough to consider that.
“No.”
He tilted his head just so, his blue eyes full of curiosity.
“You were right.”
“I was?” Another lifted eyebrow, and words spoken slowly, as though he was wanted to avoid a trap. No gloating. Just concern. If he kept that up she was going to cry. Nobody had worried about her since she was a kid.
“There are—were—a lot of unknowns,” she said carefully.
“Such as?” His thigh was pressed to hers, holding her in place, causing her body to keep fumbling for the mind-shutdown switch so it could play.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t?”
“Only that I decided it might be wise to give a real man a shot before I pulled the trigger.”
She’d had a good long chat with herself and had decided to put insemination on hold so she could pursue things with Josh. She’d thought she wanted a baby, but really, deep down inside, what she wanted was love. While things were new and uncertain with Josh, she felt they had potential worth exploring. The ovarian cysts would still need to be removed, but she had a little bit of time to think, breathe, and live. In a few months she could reevaluate her baby plan as well as the idea of surrogacy for her frozen eggs, but right now it was time to explore love.
Josh said nothing, merely watched her for a moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every swallow.
She laughed nervously. “That makes me sound as though I’m a certifiable man trap. I just meant that—”
He silenced her with a kiss. Her wrists were still encased by his hands, their arms trapped between their bodies as they angled their mouths, digging against each other for better access.
He broke the kiss. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”
“Yes.” She wanted to add about fifty clauses, but figured they could get to that later.
He studied her for a moment. “I know you’re strong enough, but are you open-minded enough to date a man who makes frilly accessories?”
She gave him a wicked grin. “Make me your girlfriend and I’ll show you things that will make you wonder why you ever questioned my open-mindedness.”
* * *
Simone adjusted her dress and dabbed at her mouth, hoping to eradicate any traces of smeared lipstick. Because she was certain it was smeared. Everywhere. She bit her bottom lip so she wouldn’t grin. Polly’s bedspread had definitely been inspiring.
She giggled as Josh joined her in the hallway, tucking in his shirt. He slung an arm across her shoulders. “I’d say that opened my mind.” He leaned into her, giving her temple a kiss. “So? Now what?”
She hooked her fingers in his, not wanting to join the celebration going on in Polly’s living room. She wanted to ring in the New Year, but not with anyone other than Josh.
He leaned against the wall, legs splayed. He pulled her into the V, his hands loose around her waist.
“Believe it or not, I don’t have a plan,” she said.
“That must be new for you. Any heart palpitations? Sweaty palms?” he teased.
She leaned her hips against his, giving him a saucy look.
“Know what’s funny about you not having a plan?” He gently brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “For the first time in my life, I actually have one.”
“And what’s that?”
“Take you to bed as often as I can.”
She laughed, trying to escape his arms, but he tightened them, trapping her. She lessened her struggles, peppering his chin with kisses that gradually slowed as their bodies melded together.
“Seriously?” he said between kisses. “I’m going to go for it.” He hooked a finger in the neckline of her dress, teasing her with a gentle touch.
She traced patterns down
his chest, loving the hardness of his flesh. Next time she planned to spend a lot more time focusing on it with her lips and tongue. Maybe even a minute or two here and there to see what he liked best.
“I think you already did go for it.”
Smiling, he bumped his forehead against hers, tracing her nose with his before planting a heavy kiss on her lips. “I may have to try again before the year is through.”
“You have a few minutes and about a 90 percent chance.”
“Not 100?”
“We are in the middle of a large party.”
“That hasn’t stopped us yet.”
She felt herself blush as she placed a finger over his lips, loving the fact that they could tease playfully now without her getting bent out of shape. She trusted him. With everything. Including her heart.
He took her finger into his mouth, giving it a light nibble. Oh, yes. They were going to have a lot of fun together.
“So?” She shifted impatiently against him. “What’s your plan?”
“I’m giving up firefighting. It was a big part of my identity, but it’s time to see if I can make a go with my hair accessories.”
He looked uncertain, as though this was the scariest thing in the world. A second later his features relaxed, and she could tell he had been waiting to take this chance for some time.
“Good.”
“You don’t mind dating a man who is…” His gaze shifted away and she knew he was struggling with how people would perceive him.
“Gay?” she teased.
His eyes flashed and he pushed her away. She waggled her finger at him. “Uh-uh! If you get to tease me, then I get to tease you.”
“It’s not funny.”
“And neither is the whole damsel in distress thing. Your identity might be a macho male issue, but mine is being self-reliant and independent. If you knew how much it galled me every single time you had to bail me out—”
He shut her up with a kiss again, his hand drifting through her long tresses, cupping the back of her head. She had to admit she loved the way he took control. And he’d been right. She needed a man with big cajones. She needed him.
“I’ll help you,” she said when they broke apart. She placed another light kiss on his lips, wanting to stay connected with him, to keep savoring the way he felt against her—strength and protection but with a gentleness she craved.
Despite the way he was comfortable taking charge, she knew Josh would never infringe on her ability to remain autonomous. If she was down, he was up, and vice versa. He would be there, ensuring she met her goals, whatever they might happen to be. An equally strong and powerful partner who knew the rules of give and take.
Thanks to Nymph Island, at long last the man she’d always dreamed of was quickly becoming hers.
She gave him a grin. “Let’s start by making a deal with Melissa’s Cuties.”
“Melissa’s Cuties? For real?”
“You’ve heard of them? Good. Well, she’s looking for toddler hair accessories and I think you’d be a good fit. Then we can talk about distributors, discounts, connections, and all that after we hammer out a contract with her.”
“Are you taking charge of my life?”
“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, but right now, more than anything, I just want you to be my girlfriend. Not my business partner.”
“Are you really going to turn away this gift horse?”
“Until next year.”
“Such a long wait,” she teased, knowing they were only minutes away from midnight and changing their calendars.
“This year I want to be nothing more than your lover.” She had to admit she liked the sound of that. “Next year we can worry about business, world domination, and hitting the cover of design magazines.”
“Those things don’t really change much, other than your bottom line, just increase the pressure to do it all again.”
“And maybe after that, if we still like each other, we can venture into the undiscovered arena of domesticity and family.”
“Are you proposing?” she asked, head tipped to the side.
“Do you think I should?”
“Well, I think it would be wise to show you all the ways I’m open-minded first.”
“And I still have to show you all the ways I love you, Simone Pascal.”
She froze against him. “You love me?”
He ran a thumb down the length of her jaw, sending tremors of desire through her. “What’s not to love?”
“Overcontrolling, overconfident, strident…” She began listing the faults that had got her into trouble in the past.
“I happen to think those are qualities in the women I like to date. Plus I’ve noticed that you’ve been slowly letting me see your softer side. I like that, too. It all balances out quite nicely.”
“How did I ever get so lucky?” She ran her palms down his chest. “I seem to have found a man who’s real. Tough and yet—”
“Don’t say it.”
“I wasn’t going to. And I love you, too,” she blurted out, then closed her eyes in fear. Oh, God. It was too soon. Yes, he’d said it first, but it was still too early for either of them.
But she liked the way she lit up and felt alive when she was around him. She liked the way he took her to task and called her on her bullcrap. They had things in common and were strong enough and pushy enough for each other, and she loved that about him. About them.
Plus he was great with Tigger. Great with her friends. And he stepped in and rescued her when she really needed it. Dammit. Simone really, really liked it when he had her back. She didn’t want to, but she knew she could trust him, love him, and not get hurt.
It was plain old out-of-control love. The one thing she couldn’t plan for and the one thing she’d crossed off her list, thinking it would never happen.
Josh smiled, hugging her close. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?” he whispered in her ear. She grinned up at him. She’d never heard anything better in all her life.
He tucked her against his side as they headed to the entry. From the other room came loud cheering and a chorus of, “Happy New Year!”
“Does that mean we have to talk business? Or can I still enjoy the early glow of being your girlfriend?” Simone asked Josh, disappointed that they’d missed their chance to ring in the new year in their birthday suits, bodies moving in blissful, wanton harmony.
“You can always enjoy the glow of being mine. Always.” He twirled her around, catching her in the doorway, then pulled her into his arms for a long kiss. He pointed to a sprig of green above them. Mistletoe.
Love and mistletoe. Definite seasonal must-haves.
Christmas Eve
Nymph Island
Dear Santa,
Thank you so, so, so, so much for bringing me a daddy—he is writing this letter for me and I keep checking to see if he is writing all the words right. He says he is but I’m not sure because I can only read the beginner books because I’m just five and we aren’t learning how to read very fast at school. It took you a really long time to get Evander for me (that made Evander laugh and smile. I had to tell him to write that part down) but he is very nice and he can lift me up in the air like I’m the whipped cream on top of a sugary sundae. It’s like I can fly just like a fairy. But I’m not allowed very much sugar.
And Evander’s going to be my forever daddy! Forever and ever and ever. And ever. He gave Mom a ring and now I get to hug him every day. Even when he’s cranky about Mom not being careful about locking doors and checking her car mirrors. But there are no more bad guys because Evander scared them away. So it’s okay to come to our house at Christmas tomorrow morning. Nobody will take my super bright fairy light that I asked for. Oh! I didn’t ask for it yet. I asked for a pony in my last letter, but Evander says ponies in town aren’t a realistic gift and that they don’t fit on your sleigh, either. I secretly think Evander bought me one because he has lots of money and always finds
a way to get things for me that I really like. So it’s okay if you didn’t get me a pony named Sparkles. Now I am writing you to say I would like a super bright fairy light for Christmas, please. (Mom says I must remember to say please.) (Note from Evander: I already bought her the light, so no worries there, big guy. No pony, though. Maybe next year.)
My fairies say they’d like new winter coats because the squirrels made them into nests again. Mom says that’s what squirrels do in the winter and that they couldn’t have known that they belonged to the fairies. Can you please make sure your elves put the fairies’ names in the coats this time so the squirrels know that they belong to someone? The fairies names are still the same but Evander said I should write them down for you in case you don’t remember. He doesn’t know that you remember everything. He’s an adult and he doesn’t believe anymore. The fairies are Trixie (like the cottage’s name), Ellspa, Vixey (like your reindeer Vixen), Tinkerbell (of course), Silverbell, Silvermist, Gillian, Fawn, Chippie (like the chipmunks I’m taming), and Periwinkle. I hope your elves have time but Evander says you are probably already in the air delivering presents right now. I told you he doesn’t believe anymore. He can’t remember your magic. Thanks, Santa! I know you’ll bring good coats for my poor shivery fairies.
We live in a new house now. It’s in Bracebridge with Evander and Granny Flo—that’s Evander’s mom who is a little bit sick. She’s feeling okay though. MAJOR BIG NEWS! I’m going to be a sister! I didn’t even believe it! It’s going to take forever to be a sister. Months and months. I promise to be good and help out because I can’t wait. I can dress the baby and do its hair and love it and squeeze it and give it a ride in my doll carriage. I won’t feed it sugar and next Christmas I can help the baby write to you because I’ll be big and will be able to write letters. More than just boring words like cat and dog and mat.
Evander is reminding me to tell you about the house because I got distracted. He’s smiling a lot. I think he likes writing to you, too. (Note from Evander: I do, actually.) The house has lots of Christmas lights around the door and lots of trees and a big backyard. It’s Evander’s old house but he says you haven’t been there in a really long time because he’s all grown up now. I think it’s silly that you don’t come to his house now that he’s big. Everyone needs Santa and gifts. Maybe then they would still believe and be nicer to each other. But Evander is nice even though he doesn’t believe anymore.
