by Lori Foster
“I asked what you’re waiting for?” His voice was gruff with emotion, his once-certain smile faltered as his insecurity became obvious.
More than anything else, his ability to own up to his feelings and emotions touched her heart. She could free hers and learn from him. Be independent and still be in love.
If she dared.
His gaze locked with hers. He lifted his hand, revealing a green sprig of mistletoe and holding it up high. “I thought we could try it again.” He extended his free hand, holding it out to her. “Get it right this time.”
Toni rushed into his arms and Max lowered his head for a kiss that felt too long in coming. He’d never admit it out loud but she’d had him sweating there for a minute. But now she was his.
Her lips were soft and willing, welcoming him. His hands slipped around her waist, beneath the band of her sweatshirt until he encountered soft skin. She let out a faint sigh and leaned back against the desk, letting his body mesh with hers. Her thighs spread and his groin settled hard against her stomach.
But warning bells went off in his head. “Not again, sweetheart. Not until we’ve got a few things settled.”
“Mmm.” She purred in his ear and her hand slipped to the bulge in his jeans.
Max nearly caved right then, but knowing his future was on the line, he forced himself to pull back. He’d messed up once and she’d run at the first opportunity. He wasn’t about to screw up again. “I love you” was saying a hell of a lot for a man who’d always lived alone—but it wasn’t a declaration of future intent. And a woman like Toni both deserved and needed one.
And for the first time, Max realized, so did he. “Toni.”
She met his gaze.
“I don’t usually sleep with women I just met.”
She grinned. “That’s good because I feel as if I’ve known you all my life.”
“Then prove it. I’m a slob. I don’t put my clean clothes away, I wear them straight from a pile on the chair. I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle, I drink milk out of the carton, and those are the positives.” He paused, deadly serious. “But I still think we have a chance.”
Her eyes were misty and damp but her smile never dimmed. “I’ve been known to hang stockings from doorknobs and eat Chinese food out of the carton. For breakfast.” She smoothed one hand down his thigh, the other hand never leaving its strategic position on his groin.
His body protested his prolonged wait in making her his but his mind and heart knew he was doing it right this time. “I go to sleep too late and wake up too early. But I promise to give you the best that I’ve got to make us work. You can trust me and you never have to fear me—” Max never got to finish.
She covered his mouth with hers in the sweetest, hottest, most honest kiss he’d ever known. He paused only to slam her door closed and undress her, dropping his jeans as quickly as possible. He entered her quickly, this time on the desk she’d be leaving behind. When the aftershocks subsided, his body was still deep inside hers.
“This was naughty,” she murmured.
“I thought that was your plan.”
She laughed. “Only with you, Max. You bring out my decadent side.”
“My pleasure, sweetheart. It’s something I plan on doing again.” His groin began to harden once more, and Max proceeded to seal their bodies, just as they’d sealed their future. Being naughty under the mistletoe.
SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL
Beth Ciotta
Chapter One
Nothing says holidays like a fruitcake cupcake! ∼Daisy Monroe
“Talk about your winter wonderland. Is this place for real? Are you sure we didn’t drive through some sort of wormhole that redirected us to the North Pole?”
Nerves brittle from navigating a snowstorm in a cheap-a-zoid rental car, Maya Templeton glanced at her friend and business partner, Giselle (just Giselle), as they breached the limits of Maya’s hometown. “Is that your way of saying Sugar Creek looks like Santa’s Village?”
Tricked out in festive decorations, the two-story brick-faced mom-and-pop boutiques featured regional novelties, season’s tidings, and bountiful holiday specials and sales. Even the most down-and-out shopper would be able to find a meaningful gift within their restricted budget.
“I’m surprised you ever moved away,” Giselle said. “This place has you written all over it.”
“Except it doesn’t look magical year-round,” Maya said while focusing on the icy road. “Just around Christmas.”
And especially in the midst of a snowstorm.
Peering through the frosty windshield was like looking into a snow globe, the old-fashioned scenery reminiscent of a Norman Rockwell painting. Enchanting innocence with a dash of whimsy.
Considering the location and purpose of Maya’s self-started business, you’d think she’d be numb to magic. Cupcakes & Dreamscapes operated out of Orlando, Florida—a city that boasted multiple theme parks. A city that perpetuated whimsy. Then again there were all kinds of magic. Whereas Orlando had death-defying amusement rides and dazzling production shows … Sugar Creek had heart.
“Quaint, but small,” Giselle said as they crawled down Main Street. “And from what you told me most everything closes by six. No dance clubs or martini bars. No concert halls or theme parks. I’m pretty sure I’d die of boredom.”
“You’d absolutely die of boredom.” Maya noted her dark and sultry business partner, wishing she possessed half her charisma. And, okay, maybe Maya was a smidgeon envious of Giselle’s exotic and curvaceous blessings. When she walked into a room all heads turned—male and female. Although Maya wouldn’t give up brains for beauty. Not that Giselle was dense, just … reckless. A bona fide adrenaline junkie, Giselle got her kicks on roller coasters and the stage (or any venue that provided her with an audience). A professional actress, she operated the “Dreamscape” portion of their co-owned company, appearing as select “characters” and performing interactive games and adventures with the party guests—most usually children. Maya handled the custom-made “Cupcakes” and bookkeeping. Their personalities were vastly different, yet they clicked to the tune of a healthy friendship and lucrative business.
Giselle fidgeted in her seat, then rooted in her purse. “I can’t believe how nervous I am about meeting Zach. My freaking palms are sweating.”
Zach.
Heart thumping, Maya flexed her hands on the wheel as she made a left onto Maple Avenue, her mind awash with childhood memories. Zachery Cole was also a native of Sugar Creek. He was Maya’s oldest friend and at one time he’d been her closest. Sadly, they’d grown apart after she’d gone off to a top-notch pastry school and he’d joined … The Few. The Proud. The Marines.
She remembered the first time she’d seen a televised recruitment advertisement—long before that famous slogan had been introduced. She’d been ten and she’d been with Zach. She’d seen his eyes light up and his shoulders roll back. He’d only been eleven at the time, but she’d known then and there he was serious about serving—like his father and his grandfather before him. He’d enlisted in the Marine Corps straight out of high school. Then there’d been 9/11—that awful attack on home soil—and Zach hadn’t been able to blast through training fast enough. He’d aimed high. Just like Maya. Only his goals involved vanquishing evil with specialized skills and rifles. Maya championed good via cupcakes and fairy tales.
Like Maya and Giselle, Maya and Zach were opposites. The diplomat and dreamer versus the rebel and realist. Yet he’d been her best friend. Someone who held a special place in her heart.
And she’d set him up with her beautiful and charismatic business partner.
“I’ve read those letters and e-mails you composed for me a million times,” said Giselle.
“A million?”
“Okay, maybe a dozen. The point is I’ve read them a lot. I’m not keen on going blank if Zach asks me to expand on something I supposedly wrote.”
Maya wasn’t keen on that happening either. She st
ill couldn’t believe she’d pulled a Cyrano de Bergerac.
Thirteen months ago, while feeling lonely and nostalgic, Maya had been going through her scrapbooks, reliving some of the best times of her life through a collection of photographs. Snapshots of Maya and her best friend, Zach—from ages eight to eighteen. Then there were random photos Zach had occasionally sent of himself over the last several years. They hadn’t stayed in constant touch, but they did send cards and notes on holidays and other special occasions. Giselle had walked in while Maya had been admiring a photo of Zach decked out in his dress blues. It had been lust at first sight for Giselle, and Maya had been certain Zach would drool over a picture of G as well. That’s when Maya had had the bright idea of setting her friends up as pen pals. What deployed soldier wouldn’t want to correspond with a superhot woman like Giselle? G, who didn’t have a shy bone in her curvaceous body, had jumped at the chance to hook up as Zach’s “pen pal.” Sending sexy pictures of herself? No problem. But composing something more than a 140-character tweet?
Why Maya had ever agreed to help Giselle write several letters and answer the occasional e-mail from Zach was a mystery. A lapse in judgment. A moment of insanity. But Giselle, whose many talents did not extend to creating intelligent, engaging prose, had begged Maya’s help. And Maya, who’d wanted to provide Zach with a mindless, playful fantasy during his dreary and dangerous time on foreign soil, had complied. She’d been so focused on providing Zach with an element of sexy escapism and so entranced with his sexy responses, she’d lost herself in the fantasy, giving little thought to Zach and Giselle meeting in person. Especially since he’d cooled on the epistolary liaison a few months back. Whether out of boredom or due to his combat situation Maya didn’t know.
She hadn’t anticipated his sudden and surprising leap from Gunnery Sergeant to civilian. She hadn’t anticipated her own parents, who’d moved to the Sunshine State five years prior, booking a Christmas cruise, leaving Maya to fend for herself over her favorite holiday. She hadn’t anticipated the invitation to join the Coles for Christmas in Sugar Creek or Giselle’s insistence to tag along.
The thing that worried Maya most was that the invitation hadn’t come from Zach himself. This was a surprise visit arranged by his great-aunt, Helen Cole. Helen was a senior member of the local charitable club the Cupcake Lovers, a club Maya had admired since she’d been old enough to appreciate their noble mission as well as their unique recipes. If Maya still lived in Sugar Creek, she’d be a member of that club. But she’d had big dreams and those dreams had led her to Orlando. She’d been happy there (although not so much recently), but she’d been happy in Sugar Creek, too. Thanks to Zach, who’d rescued her from a schoolyard skirmish in the second grade and who somehow ended up being her closest friend up until and throughout high school. Theirs had been a unique and cherished bond.
When Helen had called to say her great-nephew had returned unexpectedly to Sugar Creek and that she thought he’d benefit from a surprise visit from his oldest friend, Maya hadn’t thought twice. Not to mention, she was curious as to why Zach hadn’t informed her he was leaving the military. She never thought she’d see the day, and now that it was here Maya felt unsettled on several counts.
“How much farther to Mrs. Cole’s house?” Giselle asked while flipping down the visor mirror and reapplying her already perfectly applied lipstick.
“About five minutes unless I spin out and wreck this miserable excuse of a car. I don’t think this thing has front-wheel drive, let alone four-wheel drive. Who loans out a death trap like this knowing Vermont’s harsh winters?”
“You’ve driven two and a half hours in blinding snow and haven’t spun out yet. You slid that one time, but for what? A millisecond? I haven’t feared for my life even once. Obsess much?”
“Connect with reality much?” Maya breathed deep and tempered her caustic tone. “Sorry. I know you don’t know the area. Here’s the thing: Normally the drive from Burlington to Sugar Creek takes a little over an hour.”
“I may be a southern girl,” Giselle said, “but even I know a snowstorm puts a kink in travel time. That said, we’re not that much off the mark. If this Cupcake Lover Christmas bash was an evening party instead of an afternoon mixer, we’d be ahead of the game. As it is we’ll only be an hour late.” She glanced at her watch. “Scratch that, forty-five minutes late. Not all that late. Fashionably late. All the better to surprise Zach.” She squealed as she spritzed perfume. “What fun!”
“We’ll see.” Maya couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Because of his elite position as a Marine sniper scout, Zach had never shared much about his exact location or assignments. Mostly because of security issues. Not that Maya had ever pressed for details. She knew the gist of Zach’s job, and though she knew his motivation and purpose were noble, it wasn’t something she felt comfortable dwelling on. Their typical exchanges focused on waxing nostalgic, touching base regarding their families, and providing random updates on Maya’s adventures in party planning—hence the natural introduction of Giselle. By keeping their personal correspondence light and mostly rooted in the past, Maya had kept Zach forever young and safe in her heart and mind. She’d kept their relationship chaste and on familiar ground.
It wasn’t until she’d stepped out of her safety zone and shared a more sensual part of herself under the guise of Giselle that Maya had connected with Zach on a different level, a level beyond platonic. Even so, he hadn’t intimated he’d be leaving the military anytime soon—even to “Giselle.” So why now and why had he kept it secret? What’s more, why had Helen skirted the subject when Maya had asked the woman outright?
An image flashed in Maya’s mind as Helen Cole’s house came into view and her meeting with Zach became more imminent. A picture of Zach in his cammies and protective gear, a picture he’d sent to Giselle six months back. He looked handsome and fierce and, as G had pointed out, drool worthy. Maya had always appreciated Zach’s good looks, but she’d never lusted after him. Not until she’d read some of the frank and sexy letters he’d written in response to Giselle’s notes. Not until she’d laid eyes on that photo. Although, unlike G, Maya wasn’t dazzled by the sharpshooter rifle clutched in his right hand. She was enamored by the way he hugged the dog on his left. A scraggly mutt he’d rescued from a “precarious situation.” Whereas Giselle was attracted to the warrior, Maya was attracted to the savior. The man just inside the house Maya was parking in front of. The same house where, as kids, they’d played hide-and-seek, then, years later, crammed for Algebra exams.
Pulse racing, Maya cut the engine and wrangled her emotions.
Giselle fluffed her luxuriant sable locks. “As you know, Zach and I were pretty intimate in our correspondence,” she said, looking uncharacteristically anxious.
“As close to a threesome as I’ll ever get,” Maya said, remembering one particularly graphic exchange.
“When we meet I’m wondering if I should shake his hand, hug him, or kiss him.”
Maya stared up at the illuminated reindeer and sleigh sitting atop the Coles’ roof, remembering the winter she’d braved her fear of heights to help Zach reanchor that same decoration after a powerful windstorm had blown it off. She thought about the “intimate correspondences” she’d been party to this past year. “Funny,” she said, trying to reconcile the Zach of her youth to the Zach who’d recently stirred her soul. “I was wondering the same thing.”
Chapter Two
Since they were in the business of planning, coordinating, and throwing special events, Maya wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable joining a party in progress. Especially since she was acquainted with most everyone in attendance.
Giselle was the ultimate party girl whether she knew anyone or not. She didn’t even blink when, after she was greeted at the door by Helen, Daisy Monroe (another senior member of the Cupcake Lovers) whisked her away to pick her brain about the costumed characters at Disney Resorts. Apparently Daisy was now the sometimes mascot of h
er recently co-purchased café—Moose-a-lotta. Maya didn’t get the full story, but she was certain Giselle would fill her in later.
Meanwhile, Maya hung up their coats, then enjoyed a second extended hug from a teary-eyed Helen. “So glad you’re here,” the older woman said.
“Me, too.” Maya’s own eyes stung as childhood memories welled. Stepping into Helen and Daniel Cole’s house was like stepping into the past. Since Zach’s mom (once a widow and now deceased herself) had waitressed the evening shift in a local tavern, Zach had spent his after-school hours here under the watchful eye of his aunt Helen and uncle Dan. Maya had been a frequent guest.
Looking over Helen’s shoulder into the bustling living room, Maya recognized older members of the Cupcake Lovers and their spouses, and she thought she recognized Rocky Monroe, Daisy’s granddaughter, but she definitely did not see Zach. The scene, however, the furnishings and décor, the scents of homemade cooking and cinnamon potpourri, was so familiar, Maya’s heart fairly burst with nostalgic joy.
Some things never change.
Like the various sized, colorfully painted nutcrackers Helen hauled out and arranged atop the fireplace every December and the humongous spruce Daniel always managed to squeeze into the northeast corner of the room. As always, the star topper grazed the eight-foot ceiling and the branches sagged under the weight of numerous Victorian ornaments, metallic garland, and strings and strings of colorful twinkling lights.
The hand-knit stockings pinned to the fireplace mantle. The holly garland wrapped around the staircase banister. The four-foot singing Santa positioned alongside the antique umbrella stand. All familiar. All comforting.
Merry thoughts danced through Maya’s travel-fogged brain until Helen grasped her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction of the party, into Daniel’s den. “There’s something I have to tell you,” the woman said in a hushed voice while closing the door behind them. “Don’t panic,” she said, “but something happened to Zach.”
