Molly took a moment to think about what he was saying. “So Babs is using you and your past with Delia—” and Delia’s residual feelings for you, whatever they are “—to make Mr. X jealous.”
“Maybe.” Chance shrugged, not seeming to care either way. He walked toward her and took her in his arms. Molly gasped as he ran a hand down her spine, flattening her against him.
“What are you doing?”
He scored his thumb across her lip before continuing in a voice that melted her resistance, “Giving you that make-up kiss I owe you.”
* * *
CHANCE WASN’T SURE that Molly was going to let him make love to her. At least not then. It was, after all, the middle of the workday.
Yet the moment he took her in his arms, he felt her cuddle against him. As if she had been waiting for and wanting this moment, too.
Grinning, he reached into his pocket. Found the little branch of leaves and berries he had been carrying around in his pocket. “I also want to get at least one kiss in under the mistletoe this holiday season,” he teased, holding it above her head.
She rose up on tiptoe, the scent of her inundating his senses. “I think,” she whispered, her yearning for him clear as day, “this is the place where I get a kiss in under the mistletoe, too.” Her mouth opened beneath his, and their tongues mated in an erotic dance. Pleasure swept through him as he stepped between her legs. Anchoring an arm beneath her softly curving derriere, he lifted her up and situated her so her weight was against his middle. She wrapped her legs snugly around his waist, and his blood heated even more.
He carried her down the hall to his bedroom, loving the way she felt against him, so warm and womanly. Their eyes locked as he set her down next to the bed. Undressing her felt extraordinarily intimate, pleasurable.
She eased off his shirt, kissing him, her lips softening beneath his. She clung to him, her fingers dipping into his shoulders, back and hips. Savoring everything about this moment, he delighted in the sweet taste of her. Of the way she continued undressing him, just as he had unwrapped her.
They drank in the sight of each other. She moaned as he rained kisses across her cheek, behind her ear, down the slope of her neck, before zeroing in on her mouth again.
She surged up against him, wrapping her arms around him, then tumbled him onto the bed.
He laughed in surprise. Tempestuous need glittered in her eyes as she followed him down and playfully straddled his middle. She threaded her fingers through his hair and stretched her body out languidly over the length of his, her heat cradling his pulsing hardness. He knew she thought this was just about sex. But it wasn’t, he thought, as he let her deepen their kisses and rock against him. It was so much more.
Determined to make this lovemaking more memorable than either of them had ever had, he rolled so she was beneath him. He parted her knees and lay between her thighs. She came up off the bed as his lips lowered, suckling gently. Her thighs fell even farther apart as Chance kissed and stroked. And still it wasn’t enough for either of them.
Molly teetered on the edge as he found a way to touch her that made her feel pleasured and desired, wanted and protected. Although she had promised herself she would wait for him, there was no delaying. She shuddered and fell apart in his arms. He held her tenderly until the aftershocks passed, then took her mouth again in a long, hot, tempestuous kiss. She shivered as the hardness of his chest teased the sensitive buds of her breasts, and lower still, the velvety hardness of his arousal nestled against her sex. She was so wet and so ready. And still he kissed her, until she throbbed and whimpered low in her throat. And only then, when she could stand it no longer, did he slide inside in one smooth, languid stroke. She clenched around him as he filled her completely. Taking her and making her his. Letting her possess him in response. Until her wildest Christmas wish was every dream fulfilled.
Afterward, Molly snuggled against him. He stroked a hand through her hair. Then she asked, “Would you ever consider moving to Dallas?”
His hand stilled. He continued to study her as if trying to figure something out. “I grew up there, Molly.”
She focused on the unmistakable warning in his voice. “And never want to go back?”
His eyes darkened. “I don’t mind visiting.”
You’ll never get what you want if you don’t try. She drew on all the courage she possessed. “Would you ever consider visiting Braden and me, when we move there next month?”
He sat up against the headboard, the sheet draped low across his hips. “As...?”
Molly drew her gaze away from the flat plane of his abdomen. A distracting shiver tore through her. “What we are now. Friends.”
He ran a hand down her arm. “Lovers?”
She wished he didn’t look so damn good, even in his disheveled state. “If we can work it out.” It would mean babysitters. Rendezvousing. Arranging things in a way that wouldn’t leave Braden—or her—confused.
Molly understood that Chance wanted more than that.Yet he also had to know what a big step this was for her.
He watched her tug the sheet a little more snugly beneath her arms. “Does this mean we’re exclusive?”
Heat gathered in her chest, and spread, from the tops of her breasts into her face. She worried her bottom teeth with her lip. “Does it?”
“I already feel that way about you, darlin’.”
Molly relaxed. Her body nestled against his. “I don’t want you seeing anyone else, either,” she admitted softly.
“Then that settles it.” He pulled her against him for a long, thorough kiss that quickly had her tingling from head to toe. “We’re officially a couple.”
She splayed a hand over his broad chest, aware they still had a few hurdles left. “We will be,” she stipulated firmly. “After the Open House your mother is hosting.”
He paused. “What are you talking about?”
Molly swallowed and sat up against the headboard. She had to be completely honest with him or this would never work. “Lucille has invited me to attend as her protégé. She wants to give my design business a big boost.”
“I knew that.”
She wet her lips. “If it were known that I was also seeing you romantically, it might look like I was only with you to get ahead, or she was just helping me as a favor to you.”
He sobered understandingly. “You’d be called a gold digger.”
She nodded. Embarrassed, but determined. “I don’t want to complicate my business future like that.” She jerked in a breath, rushed on. “Because if Braden does get accepted at Worthington Academy, I’m really going to need more than just the two small jobs I already have lined up to make a real go of it.”
She studied him, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “So, can you keep our relationship under the covers for just a little while longer?”
It was Chance’s turn to look pained. “Are we talking weeks?”
“I’d rather not say anything until much later in the spring.”
So months, he realized unhappily. He pushed a little higher against the headboard, too. “You don’t think people are going to catch on to us spending so much time together?”
Molly took his hand. “If I were still living in Laramie, yes, of course. If I’m in Dallas...it’s a lot easier to keep things on the down low there if we stay out of the high-profile places.” She squeezed his hand lightly. “What are you thinking?”
Chance frowned. “I’ve never been asked to stay in the shadows before. Usually people are all too eager to claim a relationship with me, whether one really exists or not.”
“Exactly.” Molly laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re the son of Lucille and Frank Lockhart. You come from one of the most socially prominent families in the state. People want to make use of that connection.” She lifted his hand to her
lips, kissed the back of it.
“Only you don’t,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair, lifting her face to his. He slanted his mouth over hers, kissed her again, softly, appreciatively.
Her worry, that they wouldn’t be able to make this work long-term, fading, Molly swung her body lithely over top of his. Her heart swelling with all she felt for him, she confided, “I don’t want anything from you. Except friendship.” She nipped playfully at his lips. “And this...” To show him how deeply she cared, she made love with him all over again.
Chapter Ten
“What you got me, Cowboy Chance?” Braden asked early one evening, a week and a half later when Chance came through the door, another yuletide shopping bag in hand.
“Whoa now. You don’t know that’s for you,” Molly told her son. Although for most of the last ten nights, Chance had been there with her and her little boy, baking cookies, and working on their Christmas village in progress.
But prior to this, he had shown up with only one new item at a time.
Molly had appreciated his restraint.
Tonight, however, appeared to be different, Molly noticed as she and Chance exchanged looks.
“That’s true.” Chance backed up her efforts to instill manners in her little boy. He hung his jacket up and walked over to the sofa. “But as it happens—” he winked at Braden as they drew all three folding chairs up to the folding tables “—what’s in here is for you and your mommy.”
“Can I see?” Braden asked eagerly. “Please?”
Chance motioned for Molly to sit down on the other side of her son. He opened up the bag and lifted out a rectangular figurine. “Let’s start with this.”
Braden’s eyes widened in appreciation. “That looks like our house,” Molly said of the bungalow with the white picket fence.
Her son set them up carefully between the ranch and the North Pole.
Chance opened the bag. Braden pulled out more. “Mrs. Santa Claus!” her son exclaimed. “And more reindeer!”
“To go with Rudolph and the sleigh.”
Braden hopped up and down and put them in the North Pole section of their Christmas village.
“Maybe we should let Mommy open the next one,” Chance said.
Braden clapped. “Yes. Mommy do it!”
Not sure what this was all about since Chance wouldn’t tell her much except that he had decided he needed to vastly accelerate his “plan,” to allow for more focus on the Leo and Lizzie train set as they got closer to Christmas, Molly opened it up. Inside were two figurines to add to the ones Chance had already brought. One of a modern Western woman with auburn hair similar to Molly’s, and one of a redheaded little boy—also in Western gear. Beneath the figurines, Chance had written the identifying information.
“Gosh,” he said, leading the conversation. “That sure looks like you, Mommy. And this one looks like you, Braden.”
“I think it is us!” Touched, Molly laid her hand across her heart.
Braden admired both, then reverently put them by the bungalow with the white picket fence. He studied the scene for a long, thoughtful moment.
To Molly and Chance’s mutual dismay, his happiness turned to confusion. Plaintively, he walked over to Chance and looped his arms around their visitor’s neck. “Where you, Cowboy Chance?”
* * *
“SORRY ABOUT THAT,” Molly said after Braden had finally gone to sleep. She moved around the kitchen, baking that evening’s batch of cookies—hausfreunde. “When Braden gets stuck on a question, sometimes he can’t get off of it.”
Chance understood the little boy’s need to make them a family. He felt it, too. He sampled the buttery almond-apricot sandwich cookie dipped in bittersweet chocolate that Molly handed him. “Do you want me to get a likeness of myself?”
Molly dipped another cookie, then set it on waxed paper to dry. “I don’t know. I mean...you might not even be with us next year.” She paused to send him a hesitant glance—the kind that only came up when they were discussing their relationship.
She swallowed, her soft lips compressing, and turned her glance away. “If the long-distance thing doesn’t work...”
He caught her around the waist and tugged her close. Bending his head, he kissed her lips lightly. Tasting chocolate. “It’ll work, Molly. And I’ll be here.”
He studied her as they drew apart. “So what else is going on?”
Molly bent her head over her baking, a clear sign she was evading. “What do you mean?”
He gave her the room she seemed to need. “I could tell something was bothering you the minute I walked in the door.”
This time, Molly did look up. Her eyes glittered with disappointment. “I received a letter in the mail today. Braden was wait-listed at Worthington Academy.”
Chance didn’t know whether to celebrate the fact that Molly’s reasons for leaving Laramie in January had just diminished or share in her deep disappointment. “I’m sorry, darlin’.” He took a seat on the other side of the island. Tread cautiously. “Did they say why?”
“No.” Molly’s lips twisted into a troubled line. “But I was offered a Skype conference with the headmistress and admissions counselor, so I plan to see what kept him from getting in, and what his chances are of getting off the wait list. And if they aren’t good, if there is a chance he will be admitted in the fall semester.”
Chance couldn’t help but be disappointed that Molly had yet to change her mind about enrolling Braden there. He sent her a brief commiserating glance. Then, speaking from his own heart, he encouraged firmly, “Braden’s a great kid, Molly. He will thrive no matter where he is.”
“I know.” Her eyes still glimmered with tears, but she shook off the rising emotion. “I just really wanted him to have this opportunity. But if he doesn’t get it this year, I’ve already got a deposit down at a safety preschool in the area where I intend to rent a house.”
Now it was Chance who felt like he’d received a major blow. Not that he hadn’t been warned. He had. “Have you put a deposit down on a home, too?” He kept his attitude casual.
“No.” Molly relaxed, as well. “That’s the good thing about Dallas. It’s so big there are plenty of places that would fit my needs in the short term.”
If he couldn’t dissuade her, he could sure as hell join her.
“You’ll let me know if there is anything I can do to help?”
She smiled at him sweetly. “Of course. But I think I’ve got everything covered...
Meaning what? Chance wondered.
She didn’t need him?
Or didn’t want to need him?
How was he going to change that? He wondered, perplexed. Because he sure as hell was beginning to need them.
* * *
“IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG?” Molly asked Lucille several long, productive days later, when she arrived at the site to find her client upset.
She exchanged puzzled looks with Chance. He seemed as out of the loop as she felt.
“Is there something you don’t like, Mom?” he asked in a low tone.
Heaven knew they didn’t want Chance’s mother to be unhappy with the renovation. This was their first joint project. The reputation of both their contracting firms was at stake.
Lucille glanced around at the finished backsplash, gleaming new appliances, countertops. Although the tile was newly sealed, there were smudges on the windows and stickers on the appliances. The newly finished wood floors bore the occasional dusty footprint. But all that was to be expected.
“We’ll get a cleaning crew in here as soon as the touch-up painting is finished. The whole house will sparkle before we bring a speck of furniture in next week.”
Lucille waved off the concern. “The renovation looks even better than I imagined. It’s the
Open House.”
Sage walked in. Chance’s eldest brother, Garrett, and his wife, Hope—a crisis manager and public relations expert—were at her side. “We got your message,” Garrett said, cradling their nine-month-old son, Max, in his arms. The former army doc was now Lockhart Foundation CEO and medical director of West Texas Warrior Assistance.
Hope kissed her mother-in-law’s cheek. “I’m not sure we understand the message you left.”
Lucille fretted, “You all know I sent out a ton of invitations.”
“Because you want to raise as much money as possible for the military vets we’re helping,” Garrett said.
“Most of the people I invited live in Dallas or Fort Worth. Since it’s the holidays, I didn’t think we would have that many acceptances.”
“Let me guess,” Sage said. “You were pleasantly surprised.”
Lucille threw up her hands in distress. “We have four hundred people coming—so far. I don’t know where we’re going to put everyone!”
Hope already had her phone out. “It’s not a problem. I can get some tents and tables and chairs. Heaters, too, if that cold front continues our way.”
“I’ll just make a lot more food,” Sage said, with a former caterer’s aplomb.
Lucille paced. “We’re talking five days from now.”
“It will work out, Mom.” Chance wrapped his arm around Lucille’s shoulders.
“The ranch house will not just be done—it will be letter perfect,” Molly promised. “It will be decorated beautifully inside and out, too.”
Lucille frowned. “What about entertainment? If it was a much smaller gathering, I was just going to have holiday music playing unobtrusively in the house, but now...”
“Some of the military vets have a band,” Garrett said, shifting his son a little higher in his arms. “They’ve played at some of our parties.”
“They’re really good,” Hope put in. She grinned as Max reached over and tangled his fingers in her hair. Pulling her close, he gave his mommy a kiss.
Molly envied the sight of Garrett, Hope and Max. They made such a cute little family. The kind she could have if only she stayed.
A Texas Cowboy's Christmas Page 13
