Winter Kisses

by A. C. Arthur

  Monica shook her head. “I believe everyone can learn from their mistakes. If I prevent Karena and Deena’s mistakes then what will they learn? How will they grow into better women?”

  “And you think they can be better women? Better in what respect, until they’re acting like you?”

  “I don’t want anybody to act like me, nor do I wish any of what I’ve gone through on anyone. I just want them to make intelligent decisions, to live the life they want to lead to the fullest.”

  “With your approval, of course?” he asked with a tilt of his lips. “You didn’t want Karena to marry Sam and you didn’t want Deena to marry Max.”

  “I don’t think they need a man to define them. Would you want your sisters getting married just because they thought they couldn’t live without a man?”

  Now Alex chuckled. “Gabriella’s twenty-five—she’s my baby sister. Do I personally think she’s ready for the commitment of marriage? No. But if she meets a man and falls madly in love with him, I’m not going to be the one discouraging her from following her heart. I will, however, threaten to break the dude’s kneecaps if he even thinks about hurting her.”

  Monica had to smile at that. “I’ve made that threat before.”

  “I’ll just bet you have, Queen.” Alex laughed with her. “Now, Adriana, she’s twenty-seven and much more mature than Gabriella. She’s sort of figured out that her modeling days are over and is looking into some type of management, taking some courses in college to gain more knowledge of the other side of the entertainment industry. I admire her for that. Any man that wants Adriana’s heart will have to know her soul first. So when she says she’s ready to get married, I’ll know it’s the real deal.”

  “And you’ll threaten this man’s kneecaps, as well?” Her mood had begun to lighten. Talking to Alex did that to her. He could be a friend, she thought distantly. If she allowed herself to have friends.

  “That goes with the big-brother territory. Besides, Rico and Renny do a lot of threatening, too. I’m not taking that charge by myself.”

  Monica found herself laughing again and beginning to like this man way too much.

  Alex loved her laugh and thought her smile had to be a slice of heaven.

  Tonight she wore cream-colored leggings that looked like silk running up and down her legs. Her shirt was long enough to cover the curve of her bottom but still hugged the plumpness tightly. He’d swallowed hard when she came into the room, then he’d looked into her eyes.

  So many questions still remained, so much trepidation. He wanted to wipe it all away with a kiss or a hug or lovemaking that would erase any thoughts of her past, but Alex knew that wouldn’t work. He could do all those things, surely, but that would just be a temporary fix, a bandage for a cut that most likely needed stitches.

  As she settled herself onto the blanket, at what she probably thought was a safe distance from where he sat, he shifted, pretending to stoke the fire. “Pour us a glass,” he said over his shoulder before her mellow mood turned defensive again.

  While she was pouring he finished with the poker and settled back, scooting over closer to her. When she turned with a glass in each hand she was surprised to see him right there. He simply smiled and took a glass from her hand.

  “A toast,” he said before she could protest. “To a great cabin, a big blizzard and to both of us knowing how to bust someone’s kneecaps.”

  Her smile was a little more hesitant this time, the corners of her lips trembling in a motion that warmed him more than the fire. Lifting her glass, she toasted. Then she added, “And to the lights coming back on and the roads clearing.”

  The mellow was quickly wearing off. “I’ll toast to that even though it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Wishful thinking,” she said before taking a sip.

  “You’re still trying to run from me? I would have never pegged you for a runner.”

  Something flashed in her eyes after he spoke but everything else about her remained cool. She took another sip and lowered the glass to sit on the floor. “I don’t run from anybody.”

  He nodded. “You just steer clear of any problems or any unsightly entanglements.”

  “I protect myself at all costs.”

  “And you’ve been doing that how long, Queen? Since he hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “We’re not doing this.” She moved to get up but Alex reached for her, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. They were both on their knees now, staring into each other’s eyes.

  “He didn’t do anything I didn’t allow him to do,” she said finally.

  “That doesn’t mean whatever he did was right,” Alex retorted.

  Monica shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past. And I don’t want to talk about it,” she said with finality.

  “At some point in our lives, we all do things we don’t want to do.”

  “Not me. Not anymore.” Her lips set firmly as she looked away from him, her dark eyes focusing on the crackling fire.

  Alex touched a hand to her chin, turned her face so she was looking at him again.

  “I cannot apologize for whatever he did or didn’t do. All I can do is promise I won’t make the same mistake.”

  “How can you say that when you don’t know what he did?”

  “Because while I may be a lot of things, Queen, I’m no fool.” He traced a finger over her bottom lip. “And only a fool would do something to hurt you.”

  It was ridiculously silly for her insides to turn to mush at his words, not to mention naive. But Monica couldn’t fight the feeling. She couldn’t resist the urge to move closer, to let him take her in his embrace, to be held and comforted, for once. And when Alex did just that she knew she was a goner.

  Chapter 12

  Connecticut

  “It’s been two days,” Karena said with a sigh.

  “They’re fine, baby.” Sam kneaded her shoulders then moved down to her back.

  “No, they’re not. Alex’s probably dead and stuffed in a closet by now. Monica does not have a high tolerance level.”

  Sam chuckled. “She’s not a murderer, either.”

  “Whatever. You laugh if you want, but something’s definitely going on up there and I don’t think it’s good.”

  Before Sam could reply Karena’s cell phone rang. He scooped it off the coffee table and handed it to her.

  “Karena Desdune,” she answered. It was the ringtone of a business call.

  “Mrs. Desdune, this is Adonna from the gallery.”

  “Yes. Adonna, how can I help you?” She wasn’t sure why Monica’s assistant was calling her but it couldn’t be a good thing.

  “I’m trying to get in touch with Ms. Lakefield. I have an urgent message for her as well as a package that arrived yesterday morning. I’ve been calling her cell and emailing her but I’m not getting any response. I thought she’d be back in town by now so I figured I’d give you a call to see if you could advise what I should do.”

  Adonna Banks did whatever Monica instructed her to do. She’d been Monica’s assistant for the past five years and knew her job inside and out—which really translated to her knowing how to avoid Monica’s wrath at all times. So if she was calling Karena at almost ten o’clock on a weeknight then it must be urgent.

  “Who is the message from? Maybe I can handle this before Monica returns,” Karena said since she had no idea what her sister was doing or when she would return.

  “It’s from a Yates Hinton. I’ve never heard the name before and he’s not a client. But he’s been calling here nonstop. I think the package is from him, as well. He says its imperative that he speak to Monica as soon as possible. He even asked if I could give out her cell-phone number or the number to where she’s staying.”

  Karena was not happy that Adonna had been right. If Adonna hadn’t heard of someone and they were calling the gallery for Monica then it couldn’t be about gallery business. Which was strange because everyone knew Monic
a didn’t have a personal life.

  “Give me his number. I’ll give him a call and see what I can get out of him.”

  While Adonna read off the number Karena motioned for Sam to get her something to write with. As she jotted down the name and number she assured Adonna she would take care of everything and not to worry. Even though a very small part of her had begun to do just that.

  Disconnecting with Adonna, Karena immediately dialed the number she’d written down and received an automated voice-mail message. With a frown she left a message stating that she was calling for Monica and that he could get in touch with Karena instead.

  “What was that all about?” Sam asked the moment she finished leaving the message.

  “Monica’s assistant says this guy’s been looking for Monica and sent some package to the gallery for her. He’s being very persistent so Adonna wanted to know if I knew when Monica would be back so she could give this man some type of answer.”

  “Isn’t it her job to brush people off until Monica gets back?”

  Karena nodded, looking down at the slip of paper she’d written the number on. “Yeah, it is. And Adonna’s usually really good at it. So if she’s calling me, this guy must really be working her nerves. Anyway, I told him he can contact me if what he needs is urgent.”

  “But you don’t think it is?” Sam asked, watching his wife carefully.

  “Truth is, I don’t know what to think about it. I’ve never heard this guy’s name before so I wonder how he even knows Monica.”

  “She’s not a hermit, Karena. She’s made a lot of business connections. Maybe she’s following up on more stock for the gallery.”

  “Maybe,” Karena said, sitting back and vowing to enjoy the back rub her husband was so intent on giving her. But “maybe” didn’t sit well with her.

  Monica’s eyes closed of their own accord as contentment flowed generously through her body. It started at her feet, right in the center, then up to the balls, over the toes then back down to the heels. Sensations moved from that locale upward, settling in her calves until they were warm and tingling, easing up to her thighs until they had their own heat spearing through them, pressing into her center that now throbbed and wept for attention of its own. Her breasts were heavy, nipples tingling; her arms felt languid, her mouth slack as her tongue slid slowly over puckered lips.

  Alex was giving her a foot massage.

  But it felt as if he were massaging every part of her body. She’d never felt so relaxed and simultaneously aroused before in her life. He’d taken a few pillows from the sofa, laid them on the floor and instructed her to lie on them. She did as he asked even though she wasn’t totally sure she should. When she’d been in the bedroom there was a chill in the air, an attestation to the fact that the electricity was out. Since the cabin obviously operated on all things electric, there was no heat. But here, in front of the still-roaring fire and being touched by this man, Monica was on fire.

  She knew she should tell him to stop. Every time he touched her, every time they were together, memories of her past crept closer to the surface. Alex was a different kind of man, she kept telling herself. Still, she’d thought she’d known before, thought the man was exactly who he said he was. She’d been wrong.

  When his hands moved from her feet to cup her calves then up even farther to brush along her thighs, Monica shivered and twisted a little. His touch grew stronger, fingers pressing into her inner thighs. While her heart hammered in her chest, her vaginal muscles clenching with expectation, the increased pressure from his hands changed something in her mind.

  Monica tried to move again, wiggled so that she would be free of his grasp. She heard him mumble something but his hands didn’t leave her body. He was closer now, his lips brushing along her jawline. She turned her head, but still didn’t open her eyes. Pressing her elbows into the pillows and her heels to the floor, she tried to move away, to get away. But he was heavy and he was on top of her, holding her hostage…again.

  She had to get away, that was all Monica could think. So she began kicking, her arms flailing, slapping against him. She wanted to scream but no sound came from her mouth. All she knew was that she had to get away, to keep him away. He wasn’t going to do this to her, she wouldn’t let him, not ever again.

  When her palm connected with his cheek, her knee barely missing his groin, Alex knew something had happened. They’d gone from a sensual foot rub to something he couldn’t explain. Her eyes were closed so for a second he thought maybe she was asleep. But no, she’d been with him just a minute ago. Moaning and panting, wanting his touch as desperately as he’d wanted to touch her. Then she’d gone buck wild. Instincts had him catching her wrists before she could slap him again. He half rolled off her just to get out of the line of fire of her flailing legs, but he held her wrists. He gave her a shake until her eyes opened. Alex wasn’t pleased with what he saw.

  “Get away from me! Let me go!” she yelled.

  He recognized fear when he saw it and figured the best thing to do was to gain back a level of trust. It was obvious she was mistaking him for someone else but she wasn’t up to hearing that right now. So Alex let her go, got to his knees then stood watching as she scrambled across the floor, putting distance between them. When she finally stood he took a step toward her.

  “No!” She held out both arms to stop his procession.

  “Just take a couple deep breaths,” he instructed her from where he stood. “You’re not there anymore, baby. You’re here with me.”

  She was shaking her head, her long hair swishing and wrapping around her shoulders like a cloak. “I won’t go there again. I won’t.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said with rage so raw his throat felt scratchy. He wanted to touch her, to wrap his arms around her until she felt safe again. Instead he took one tentative step toward her.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered, her hands covering her face.

  Alex was beside her now, reaching out to touch a hand to her shoulder. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay now. I won’t let him hurt you.”

  More like he’d kill the sonofabitch if he even thought about putting a hand on her again. Because Alex knew this fear, he knew that look she’d had in her eyes, the fight-or-flight way she’d gotten the hell away from him. That look would be permanently etched in his mind after seeing the way his last secretary looked every morning after her husband had beat her. Every morning except the one when she hadn’t come in to work, because the jerk had finally killed her.

  Now he was seeing it again and hating it even more because this time it was Monica. Everything in him wanted to fight, to kill, to claim this woman from the man who’d terrorized her—the bastard who’d hit her.

  “No,” she said without the punch her voice had held before. She took another step away from him and looked up at him, not bothering to fix her hair or stand in that ramrod-straight way she normally did with her chin held high.

  What she looked right at this very moment was defeated and still afraid, maybe not of him but of what she’d remembered, what she’d thought might be happening to her again.

  “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.”

  “Baby, listen to me—”

  “I’m not your baby,” she said defiantly. “I’m nobody’s baby.”

  Alex nodded. “Monica.”

  “Don’t, Alex. I’m not doing this with you. None of this. Let’s just forget about the last couple of days, forget we were stranded here. Just forget it all.”

  “I can’t do that” was his honest reply.

  “Then that’s your problem,” she said before turning and running into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  He wanted to go after her, wanted to demand she open the door, or, hell, kick the damn thing in. But he didn’t.

  Instead he went to the couch and sat down, let his head fall into his hands and prayed that he’d never come face-to-face with the bastard stupid enough to put his hands on Monica Lakefield
.

  Chapter 13

  Alex awoke the next morning to a searing pain in his back from sleeping on the couch and a slight chill because the fire had long since burned out. He’d had a blanket but it wasn’t conducive to his six-foot-three-inch-and-a-half stature so the bulk of the night he’d spent uncovered. When he sat up, letting his feet fall to the floor, a sound coming from outside startled him.

  He went to the window and was partially relieved to see a snowplow making its way down the path in front of the cabin. He went to the first rustic-looking lamp he saw and switched it on. The electricity was back and the plows were out.

  Monica would be ready to find her own room.

  That thought hit him with a pang. After last night he definitely wanted more time with her. He wanted to know what had happened to her and he wanted to help her cope with her past so she could move on with her future. Even more so, he wanted the guy’s name who’d put his hands on her. Alex knew that was a tidbit of information Monica would never willingly give him. Still, he planned to find out anyway.

  He found his cell phone in the dining room and dug through one of his bags for the charger. After plugging it into the wall, he waited until the green light signaled it was charging. Then he went back into the living room to find the cell phone that Monica had reluctantly abandoned two days ago. Alex found her charger right next to it and plugged it into the wall. He wasn’t certain it would work since when he removed the battery it looked as if the device had sustained substantial water damage. But he’d give it a try, for her. No doubt she’d be looking for the phone the minute she awakened and realized the electricity was back on.

  Alex then retrieved his laptop, went back to sit on the couch he’d cursed all night and waited for it to boot up. He wanted to send a couple of emails before dealing with Monica and her stubborn attitude this morning. First, he sent a quick email to Renny to let him know that both he and Monica had braved the storm and were now among the land of the living with electricity and heat. He emailed a quick hello to his parents. Then he opened another email box and began to type.