Nickolai's Noel

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  Her heart lifted. “Really? I would love it if you could do that. I hate being somewhere that I don’t belong. I’ll make breakfast for you at my place if you like.”

  “I would like very much.” He handed her a pillow he’d taken from the sofa as he stretched out and propped himself on another. “You got many calls tonight. From your family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is a big family?”

  “Not really. My mother, sister, grandmother, niece, and brother-in-law. My father died when I was thirteen.”

  “I’m sorry. They are wishing you were with them?” He took her hand and pulled her down until she was lying on the floor facing him. But, except for continuing to hold her hand, he didn’t touch her.

  “They do wish I was there. But I confess: it’s more than for the pleasure of my company. Except for my brother-in-law Webb—and he has his hands full, believe me—they are … shall we say, not very independent. My daddy was bigger than life and took care of everything. My mother never was inclined do a lot for herself. I don’t know what came first, the chicken or the egg.”

  “What?” Nickolai wrinkled his brow.

  “Oh. Sorry. I don’t know if my mother was helpless because my daddy did everything for her or if he did everything for her because she was helpless. Either way, she never got over it. And my sister, though older than I am, is no better. As for my grandmother, she comes from a different era and does everything she can to make sure Mother and Paige stay in it with her. So they pretend things are like they think they ought to be. I tend to be the one who keeps things on track.”

  “So at thirteen, you became like the captain of the team?” He squeezed her hand.

  “Yes, I guess I did. But I do have a co-captain now. Unfortunately, Webb was too busy putting together the Santa toys to try to help them figure out Christmas dinner—not that he would have been much good at that, anyway.”

  Nickolai pushed her hair back. “I think you make a very good captain.”

  “How about you? Is your family missing you for Christmas?”

  Nickolai shook his head. “I have no family.”

  “No one?”

  “No. I was taken to an orphanage when I was a baby.”

  “Oh, Nickolai.” Without thinking, Noel put her hand to his cheek. “I’m sorry. And here I am complaining about my family.”

  His smile looked especially appealing in the firelight. “Is all right.” He covered her hand with his and idly moved it back and forth against his cheek. “I was lucky. Someone noticed I was athletic, and I went to hockey school at the age of six. Later I played in the youth league. Then I played for Dynamo Moscow before going to play in Ottawa.” His eyes danced as he tried to put a little twang in his voice. “Then last year, I came to Nashville, Tennessee.” Noel laughed and he joined in. “Hee haw.” He reached out and drew her to him, not scary close, but warm-sweet close. “And now I know Noel. She put her hand on my face and laughed for me.” He spoke again with the affected accent. “And now, she might be fixin’ to cook me some grits.”

  “I can cook good grits. With cheese.”

  “Even better.”

  She knew what was going to happen before it did. Nickolai tipped her face to his—though he didn’t close in for the kiss right away. First, he looked into her eyes, smiled, and stroked her cheeks. There was something about those gestures that warmed her from the inside out. Nickolai made her feel as if he was not just seeking a willing mouth, any mouth, but that he knew exactly who he was about to kiss and was happily anticipating it.

  As was she. Could there be a better fantasy than being kissed by a beautiful, powerful man, backlit by Christmas tree lights and a dying fire? Yes. Being kissed by this beautiful, powerful man.

  And it was happening. With an arm wrapped around her and a hand on her cheek, he brought his mouth to hers, and there was nothing tentative about that kiss. Sometimes a man went into a kiss hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure where he stood, or if he even wanted the kiss himself.

  But that wasn’t how Nickolai went about things. He never questioned that she would want his open mouth on hers or his tongue caressing the inside of her lips and tangling with her tongue. He wasn’t abrasive or forceful, just very, very sure. And that was what took a kiss for the ages to one that could never be equaled.

  He tasted like gingerbread, cider, and power.

  He took his sweet time, all the while cupping the fullness of her cheek as he barely caressed her jawbone with his thumb. She let her hand drift from his chest upward to his neck, which was all soft skin and hard muscles.

  He made a noise deep in his throat, not quite a sigh and not quite a moan, and laid her back so that he was suspended over her, though he didn’t cover her body with his.

  When he lifted his mouth from hers she began, “That was—”

  He silenced her by placing his finger on her mouth. “Not over,” he whispered and slipped the finger in her mouth as he trailed his tongue down her jaw to her neck. When he began to nibble there—though she had never done such a thing before, never imagined it—she swirled her tongue around his finger and sucked it deeper into her mouth.

  Slowly, slowly, tasting as he went, he retraced the path up her neck and across her jaw until his lips and tongue met the corner of her mouth. He withdrew his finger, replaced it with his tongue, and set about sucking her bottom lip.

  The fire that was blazing through her flared up and then died down, leaving her nipples and groin burning drumbeats.

  She had slept with exactly two men—well, one man and one boy—and no one for a long time. But Nickolai could have taken her right there on the floor with the door wide open, where Emory or a Beauford could walk in at any second.

  Finally, he lifted his mouth from hers and smiled.

  “Is it over now?” she asked.

  He laughed low and sexy. “For the moment.”

  “Oh.” There would be more?

  “But for now, why don’t you take a little sleep here with me? The fire will soon be out and then we can run away before this Beau sees you and tries to take you from me.”

  Such charming words, like marshmallows on top of Christmas hot chocolate—not intended to last but oh, so sweet and meant to be enjoyed.

  But even as Noel basked in the warmth of those words, her common sense began to return. “I should go back to my room. What if one of the Beaufords wakes up and comes to check on the Yule log? I wouldn’t want to be caught here like this.”

  “No. Stay with me, please, Noel, zvezda moya. You are not to worry. I won’t let you be embarrassed before your friends. I’m awake, watching the fire, and I have ears like a cat. Now sleep. You work very hard at your quilting and seeing to your family. I will take care of everything.”

  He’ll take care of everything. I’m not to worry. And he acknowledged that she worked hard. It would have been difficult to say if those words or the kiss was more thrilling.

  Well, not that difficult.

  “Nickolai,” she said as he nestled her head on his shoulder. “What does it mean? Zills … moi?”

  “Zvezda moya? My star—a star cookie, a star on a quilt, a Christmas star.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips.

  And she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Five

  It was barely past daybreak when Nickolai parked in front of Noel’s shop. After the log had burned out, he had discovered that Noel was difficult to wake. She had kept snuggling back into him and closing her eyes again. Somehow, that had made him feel more powerful than he ever had with a hockey stick in his hand. Parting from her long enough to shower and dress had been hard. Like some love struck teenager, he’d even considered sending her a text message as he shaved. Then he remembered he didn’t have her cell number; he would rectify that.

  He’d had his share of puck bunnies, but he’d never felt inclined to communicate with a single one of them while shaving. That might mean something, and he intended to find out what.


  Before leaving, Noel had written Emory a note, and he’d moved Noel’s luggage into his Jeep, though she’d said the things that she would eventually take to Louisville could be left in her car at Beauford Bend. The roads and trees were covered in ice, but there didn’t seem to be any power lines down—something that Noel had been worried about.

  “Wait,” he told her. “I’ll come around to help you out.” After retrieving her duffle from the cargo area, he went around, opened her door, and offered his hand. “Careful. Is very slick.”

  “You did a great job driving on it. I would have been in a ditch three times. Whoaaa!” When she stepped out, she lost her footing and would have fallen had he not caught her.

  “I’ve got you.” He put her duffle on his shoulder and swung her into his arms.

  “Nickolai!” she protested. “Put me down. You’ll fall!”

  “Not likely. I’m very good on ice. Hang on.”

  She put her arms around his neck and laughed. This was the best day of his life.

  “There you go.” He set her on the mat in front of the shop. Smiling up at him, she unlocked the door and punched in the security code.

  He followed her into the front room of the shop, where he’d first seen Noel when he’d come here with Tewanda. What a calamity that had been—and continued to be, in a way. Tewanda didn’t seem to want to believe that he had meant it when he broke up with her, even after he changed his cell phone number. Though she had stopped coming to Sound games, she often turned up where he was—the practice arena, Cracker Barrel, the grocery store, even his condo, though he refused to allow her inside. His agent kept urging him to get a restraining order, but he didn’t need the government to keep a woman away from him. She was an annoyance, not a danger.

  Noel took her red coat off and turned to face him, her cheeks pink from the cold. That made him smile. He couldn’t imagine Noel ever becoming an annoyance.

  “You didn’t slip at all.”

  “I told you. I’m good on the ice.”

  “I know. I watch you play all the time.”

  He stopped. “Really? You watch?”

  She nodded. “I love hockey. I admit I don’t know a lot about it. I’ve only been following the Sound since I moved to Beauford three years ago, but even I can tell how much you’ve helped the team since you came last year.”

  He was astounded. Sure, she’d mentioned how well the season was going, but it didn’t take a hockey fan to know that. Never had he felt such a connection with a woman—really with anyone. And now this! He gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. That was the second time he’d kissed her now. There were all kinds of kisses, and he intended to show her every one he knew. Then, he would learn more.

  “You come to all the games?”

  She shook her head. “The tickets are pretty expensive, but I make a couple a year. I came to the opener against the Senators. But I watch them all on television—usually while I’m quilting.”

  So not a puck bunny—not that he would have thought she could be. Puck bunnies came to games, regardless of the cost, and to places where hockey players hung out. He would have remembered if Noel had ever been at the Tin Roof after a game.

  “I will get you tickets to any game you want. I get them free.”

  “I have a Sound jersey to wear to games,” she said.

  He didn’t like that. “What number?”

  “Thirty.”

  “You like the sweater number of goaltender Emile Giroux more than twelve?”

  “No. It was the only one in the Beauford Arts Council silent action. If you had donated one, I would have bid on it.”

  “I’ll give one next time. And I’ll give you one now—one I wore, with my name.”

  And she smiled—like she wanted that sweater, like maybe she would wear it to a game. He had a third kind of kiss to show her.

  When they parted, he walked over to the quilt he’d liked so much—Lazy Morning. He might buy it. He didn’t often make frivolous purchases, but was something that nourished his spirit and made him think of Noel so very frivolous? His teammate and friend, Mikhail Orlov, teased him for shopping at the Dollar General store for household items, but why should he pay twice the price for garbage bags at a gourmet grocery store? Mikhail had grown up in a home with family and plenty of money and didn’t understand the danger of being alone and poor. But Nickolai knew he was always one bad hit from an enforcer away from never again being able to do the only thing he knew how to do. And if that happened, he was determined not to end up like so many pro athletes—injured and broke because of unwise spending.

  Still … Nickolai ran his hand over the kitty paw on the quilt. Noel had sewn that little paw there. He’d probably saved enough money on paper towels and laundry detergent to buy it. And that was another thing. He did his own laundry instead of sending it out, as his single teammates did. He let his eyes drift to the price tag. She had doubled the price!

  Surprised, he swung his head around and met Noel’s eyes.

  She put her hands in front of her and closed her eyes. “I know. I know. I marked it up. I’ve never priced something for more than it’s worth before, but, the truth is, I don’t really want to sell it. I love it too much. I probably should take it down, but I like it there so I can look at it every day. And I know from experience that putting a ‘not for sale’ sign on something just makes people pester you to let them buy it.”

  Nickolai laughed. That settled it. He’d never try to take it from her. He stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “People want what they can’t have, no?”

  She tilted her head and twisted her mouth like she did when she was about to say something teasing. When had he noticed that?

  “People want what they can’t have, yes.”

  “What if someone offers you the price you have on the quilt?”

  “I’d have to sell it. I guess that’s a chance I have to take.”

  He drew her close and she put her arms around him. “Maybe you should raise the price again before someone offers.”

  “I think I will.” She tipped her face up. “Still not a sure thing, but safer. And I can make another.”

  He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

  “No. You’re right.”

  He smoothed her hair back and cupped her cheek. “I can drive on that icy interstate. I can drive on any ice. But the man on the news said it is closed and against the law. I don’t like to break the law.”

  “Oh, my, no,” Noel said. “We can’t have that. But where will you go?” She dropped her eyelashes.

  He tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. “We’re going to make love. You know that, don’t you?” He lowered his face until their noses met.

  “I suspected.” And she took his hand and led him through the warren of rooms that made up her shop, each warmer and homier than the last.

  But if he’d thought the shop rooms felt homey, when they ascended the stairs and entered Noel’s apartment, he felt like he’d come home.

  And he’d never been home before.

  • • •

  Noel had never done such a thing, and it was unlikely that she ever would again, but there wasn’t an army ever mustered that could have stopped her from sleeping with this man. The way she saw it, they were in a magical Christmas snow globe where any fantasy was possible. By tomorrow, the ice would be melted and magic with it; they’d go back to their real lives—she’d be quilting and selling thread, and he’d be scoring goals and living his rich, famous life.

  But for now, the world was quiet on this Christmas morning, and she was going to let herself have the best Christmas gift she’d ever had.

  In her fantasy, he would have picked her up, taken her to the bed, and ravished her without further ado, but clearly Nickolai was a patient man—though there was no doubt he wanted her. Even as he paused to take in her little living room, smiling as he ran his hands over the books on the built-in shelves and pictures on the mantle, he looked at her like no ma
n ever had. If a look could be X-rated, his was.

  “I like your room. Very cozy.” After looking at the tiny pine tree she’d decorated with the quilted ornaments she’d made as a teenager, he moved to stand over the rose chintz club chair where she sat to read and sew. It was the only place in the apartment that she hadn’t tidied before leaving. A mess of thread and notions spilled out of the basket on the ottoman, and the little lap quilt she used for warmth was thrown haphazardly over the chair back. There was even a half-empty cup of cold tea on the side table. He held out an arm. “Come to me.”

  And she did. He pulled her back against his front and blatantly pressed his erection against her bottom. “You feel my desire for you?” he kissed her neck.

  “Mmm.” And, scarcely believing her daring, she rolled against him. After all, this was her Christmas present.

  “And soon I will feel your desire for me.”

  No doubt. It was there in full force, wet and trembling, ready for discovery. Noel would have turned in his arms then, but he tightened his backwards embrace. “You were sewing something here in this pretty chair?” Even those words sounded sensuous against her ear.

  “Yes. Tiny project.” Unlike his “project”—the one that still seemed to be growing against her. “It’s a little wall hanging for Emory’s wedding.”

  “She will like it.” He stroked the soft wool of her skirt and then began to pleat it upward until the hem reached mid-thigh, and he slipped his hand underneath. She cursed herself for putting on tights. But it didn’t seem to matter. He was mostly interested in her hip right now anyway, resting his large hand there for a few long seconds before slowly beginning to circle. He kissed the back of her neck and then let his face rest in the curve of her shoulder. “Emory has a diamond ring the size of an ice cube.”

  Merciful heavens. There was something maddeningly wonderful about his seductive, slow touches mixed with conversation that could take place between a preacher and his grandmother. Maybe she would try that herself. She reached up and stroked his neck before responding to his comment.