Christmas Eve

by Flame Arden

  He read the last note with equal parts antipathy and anticipation. "And of course, fruit of the gods. Add sliced bananas to the ambrosia in this container and sprinkle nuts over the top just before serving, cold."

  Another aphrodisiac. Bless André for making my longevity his concern. Grinning, Nick started the oven heating and unwrapped the duck.

  * * * * *

  That's where Eve found Nick, in the kitchen hard at work. She couldn't believe her eyes. Or ears.

  From the looks of things he'd been hard at work for some time. The kitchen floor was a sticky mess and Nick was cursing like Dillinger under siege. Something had spilled and he'd stepped in it. Not once, but several times, so that now, each time he tried to move, the soles of his shoes stuck to the floor and complained with a loud squeak before letting go of the tile.

  She swallowed a grin. "Something smells good. Would you like some help?"

  "Sure. The table. See what you can do about it."

  "The dining room?"

  The surprise in Eve's voice caused Nick to glance at her over the pot he stirred. His heartbeat quickened. Her hopeful look made him glad he'd decided to go ahead with the preparations for a special meal. "Sure. If that's okay with you?"

  Eve's eyes lost that far away look as a smile started with her lips and made the green of her eyes sparkle. "Of course."

  "You can pick out the dishes. There's several different kinds behind those doors on the far wall. Use a table cloth too, if you like. I keep the linens in the top drawer of the china closet." He shook just-washed salad greens into a large crystal bowl. "Sorry, I don't have anything for a centerpiece."

  Her pleased smile widened. "I'll improvise."

  Nick strode meaningfully over to Eve, cupped her chin in his damp palm, then grinned as he looked deep into her eyes. "First things first, lady. Give me a kiss."

  She reached up on tip toes and bussed his cheek, then scooted past.

  "Hey. Come back here. Surely you don't call that a kiss."

  "I'm afraid to get any closer. I might distract the cook, and with the delicious aroma coming from the oven, I wouldn't dare."

  * * * * *

  "What if the cook wants to be distracted?" Nick would like nothing better, now that Eve had introduced the subject. "Think you can manage that?"

  Eve gulped, no longer looking like an experienced courtesan to his trained eyes. Instead, still sleepy eyed, shy and uncertain, she made him think of a young girl about to go out on her first date.

  "I can try," she murmured with a becoming blush.

  "Good. There's chilled wine on the counter. Pour some for me, too, if you wouldn't mind. By the time you've finished with the table, I'll be ready to sit for a while. After a long afternoon in the kitchen, I think it would be just about perfect to sip wine and nibble cheese with you on my lap. Any objection?"

  "I'd like that, too." But she had the audacity to blush even more. Then she turned on her heel and left him wondering why anything he might say would embarrass a party girl?

  * * * * *

  Eve hesitantly approached the china cabinet. Opened one door, then another. With the exception of the linen and flatware drawers, sets of dishes, matching bowls and serving plates filled the remaining space from floor to exposed-beam ceiling. Many of the dishes were antique. She chose the simplest pattern, a young girl in a garden swing. The scene reminded her of home. Not any home she'd ever known, but the home she wished she'd had. One where a child could feel she belonged. And was loved.

  Servants had set her parents' table, arranged the centerpiece and warned their lonely daughter not to touch anything. Not to steal a taste.

  Forced to stay in the nursery, a procession of indifferent nursemaids and governesses had corrected her table manners and shared her meals until she turned eight. Then her parents sent her away to boarding school to "meet socially accepted girls her own age." Girls painfully like her who also wished for a different, better life and for parental love.

  Having everything money could buy was often the worst possible life for a child.

  Shrugging off unpleasant thoughts, Eve sighed and concentrated on the task assigned her. A pale yellow cloth of damask set off to her liking the plates she selected. Nick's gold plated flatware would reflect light from the yellow candles she planned to light. The three pine cones she'd brought in from outside earlier hid the candle holders and served as the centerpiece when paired with the lovely porcelain doe she'd discovered hiding behind a crystal vase.

  Pausing momentarily to admire her handiwork, Eve couldn't remember ever having so much fun. At least not since she was a little girl playing house.

  She was circling the table one last time, making certain all the necessities were in their proper place when Nick came up behind her, lifted her hair and kissed her nape. The sensual kiss sent a shiver racing down her spine that had nothing to do with the room's temperature and everything to do with Nick.

  She reached back to caress his ear, leaning into his arms. "You sure know how to get a girl's attention."

  "Then we're even. You're pretty good at getting mine, too."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eve rubbed her butt against Nick's hard thighs, making her long skirt swish against her boots and his heart rate escalate.

  "Hey, you didn't tell me you planned to dress for dinner," he said, sheepishly brushing what looked like flour from his pants. "I'm still wearing jeans."

  "Only until I take them off," she murmured, offering up her ear to Nick's exploring tongue.

  "Talk like that will get you just about anything you want." His whispered promise made her heart thump and left her mindless.

  Too many of those personal promises and you'll lose your heart for good.

  She slipped out of his reach. "I'll bring the wine."

  "That's not fair. I was being nice to you."

  Still complaining, he followed Eve into the kitchen, his imitation of a pouting little boy making her laugh.

  "Nice is offering me a snack, like you promised."

  "And a seat in my lap?" he said hopefully. She grinned as he picked up the tray of cheese and crackers without an additional reminder. Making love had sapped all her energy. Hadn’t it depleted his, too?

  Walking ahead of Nick into the living room, Eve set their glasses on the coffee table, then noticed the unfinished puzzle, and decided to sit there, instead. Before Nick could clear a place to set the tray, she had two colorful pieces fitted together and snapped them into place.

  Large sections of the puzzle were nearly complete. Nick must have worked on it while she napped.

  She examined his efforts more closely. An unsmiling young man and an attractive woman, wearing a period dress with a stiff lace collar that stood up around her long neck, sat on a velvet-covered divan. The room looked Victorian, and the two of them stared straight ahead, their shoulders inches apart.

  Eve failed to see anything that she'd consider a surprise. "You've been busy."

  Nick pulled a chair close to hers and sat.

  "Not as busy as I'd like to be." He spread his hand wide to gently caress her thigh.

  "That can probably be arranged, too. After we eat."

  "Is that all you think about, woman?" His throaty laugh curled her toes.

  "It is after you insisted on dragging a toboggan all over the mountain and expected me to keep up with you. Is it any wonder I was tired? And famished? Your legs are about twice as long as mine." She reached for a radish rose and popped it into her mouth, its tart, crunchy taste a welcome treat.

  "Oh, believe me. I noticed." His voice changed timbre and tone. "I notice everything about you."

  Her stomach growled. Nick tried to keep a straight face, but failed. "Sounds as if you need protein, not rabbit food. Here." He peeled off a strip of string cheese and dangled it just out of her reach.

  Eve stretched her neck until her lips were almost touching the tasty morsel, then opened her mouth like a starved goldfish and sucked in the cheese. Nick's delig
hted laughter warmed her as much as his quick hug and before she could anticipate what he was planning, he'd pulled her onto his lap.

  * * * * *

  Even though he had carefully thought out his action, Nick was unprepared for the shock of Eve's warm butt pressing on his sensitive parts. The ever-present ache in his groin whenever she was near increased tenfold. At the same time, a feeling of contentment swept over him, too. A feeling he'd never experienced before. It left him stunned.

  Was it the wine? The fire? The aroma of cooking food?

  No way would he attribute this feeling of well-being to Eve, although her body pressing down on his enveloped him in a blanket of comforting, soft warmth.

  She snuggled closer, her lemon-scented head near his nostrils, her womanly fragrance intoxicating. Not a scent he could put a name to, but faintly erotic, and most definitely Eve.

  "Open your mouth." He dangled another strip of string cheese before her eyes. She laughed, the sound reverberating in his groin.

  His main difficulty with Eve?

  She excited him beyond reason, leaving him in constant arousal, painful need.

  Not good. Not good at all. He should distance himself.

  With a parting caress of her breast, Nick eased Eve off his lap and back into her own chair before he stood to devote his attention to the fire which needed no tending. Truth be told, he thought the poker a far safer place for his hands than anywhere on Eve.

  Remaining on one knee long after he'd finished his task, Nick stared hard into the flames, while Eve leaned over the half-finished puzzle, touched a piece and shoved it aside. Picked up another.

  Attracted by her movement, he turned to watch her over his shoulder and was rewarded with a sweet smile before she fitted the piece she held in place.

  Dammit. His skin heated and he hastily looked away, not wanting Eve to read too much into his gaze. He was finding it nearly impossible to look at her and not have some part of his body react in an inappropriate way.

  Even so, he risked another glance.

  Her shiny auburn tresses hid her shoulders. She shoved a lock behind her ear, a distracted gesture so femininely seductive it made Nick's blood hum. Earlier, on the bed, she'd pushed a wayward lock from his forehead with a similar caress. This repeat of that action had him longing for the return of her tender touch.

  He'd better keep a level head over dinner, or she'd know exactly what was on his mind and that would never do. He would need to make certain his eyes didn't make promises he had no plans to keep.

  A heated look, a warm smile, a gentle touch at the wrong moment and a woman tended to start making wedding plans. Even if the man was only interested in getting his rocks off, his female companion might start hoping for a rock-sized diamond for her left hand. And the key to his safety deposit box for her right. He had learned the hard way to be wary and didn't want that happening to him again.

  This might be the perfect time to clear the air. Discuss the terms of his agreement with Priscilla. Avert any hard feelings when he sent Eve away.

  Do it.

  "Eve. I..."

  * * * * *

  Just as she looked up, the oven timer went off and Nick got to his feet with a frown.

  Maybe he needs some help. Eve followed him. "Mmmm. It smells even better in here. What would you like me to do?"

  "Take the relishes and butter to the table, please. Then keep an eye on those rolls while I ladle up the soup."

  She placed the olives, sliced pickles and celery on one end of the table, the butter nearer to Nick's place. By the time she returned to the kitchen, the rolls in the toaster oven were a golden brown and Nick showed her a cloth-lined silver basket to put them in.

  He carried in the soup bowls, she the bread and wine.

  "I can't believe my luck," Eve said, glancing at the attractively set table and the beginnings of what promised to be an elegant feast.

  "How's that?" Nick asked as he seated her and gently pushed in her chair.

  "I have the misfortune of backing my car into a ditch and wind up being treated to a meal fit for a king."

  "I've been meaning to talk to you about that." He seated himself, then spread a linen napkin across his lap. For some reason, his action made her uneasy. He seemed more interested in studying the folds of his napkin than in looking at her.

  "Yes..."

  * * * * *

  Nick dared look over at her and lost his appetite for everything but Eve. His good intentions evaporated as he took in her soft, expectant expression, the gentle curve of her lips.

  The reasons prompting the conversation he'd intended to have with her flew right out of his mind.

  "When the tow truck comes tomorrow, why don't you park your car in my drive... and stay?" he blurted, then couldn't believe the words had actually come from his lips.

  What about the ground rules he'd planned to explain? The we'll-both-just-walk-away-and-not-look-back speech he had practiced so diligently all afternoon?

  Eve's delighted smile made his heart vibrate. "I'd like that," she said and Nick felt like cheering. "I don't have to be back in the office until... I mean, yes, I will."

  "When do you have to be back 'in the office?'" he asked, one eye brow raised.

  "Thursday's my day to man the phones. We're taking turns so all the agents can take some time off."

  Thursday? Today was Monday. That sounded just fine.

  Nick leaned back in his chair and picked up his spoon, his appetite returning full force. The lobster bisque was thick and heated just right. He grinned, pleased with himself, and not because he hadn't scorched the soup.

  "Thank you," Eve said quietly.

  She'd said it so sincerely, with just the right hint of surprise, that for a moment he'd thought she meant for the invitation to extend her stay, then realized she more than likely was referring to the meal.

  Some women accepted whatever came their way as their just due. Acknowledged it with a slight nod. Eve was different. Her genteel sophistication kept him off balance, never certain what to expect. And like a boat without a rudder, she had him spinning in circles, floundering in midstream.

  "All finished? I'll bring the salad." He leaped up to remove the bowls. When he returned, Eve was spreading butter on a crescent roll.

  "Once, when I was about four," she said with a faraway look, "Cook let me help her make bread."

  "Did you enjoy the task?"

  Eve's wistful expression made him sorry he'd asked. She put the roll down, folded her hands in her lap. "Yes, until my mother happened in and fired Cook on the spot."

  Hmmm. There's bound to be more to this story, but I'm not about to ask. Not now.

  "Would you like me to put on some music?" Without waiting for her reply Nick got up, strode over to a corner table, and pressed a remote. The cheerful sound of sleigh bells chimed from all corners of the room. "Songs of winter," he assured Eve, "not of Christmas."

  Her faint smile and appreciative nod indicated she approved his choice.

  "This salad's delicious. Do I have you to thank for the dressing?"

  "Not... exactly. It's raspberry, I think."

  "Red. That's appropriate." The color was returning to her cheeks but she still looked like a reprimanded child.

  "Here. Want another roll?" In hopes of distracting her he grabbed the bread basket and passed it to Eve.

  "I think I'll wait," she said and reached for her wine glass instead. Her slender fingers slid up the stem, then down.

  Nick followed the slow movement of her hand, mesmerized. Did she have any idea of the way she affected him?

  She must. Croupier sure did.

  Eve had finished her salad. He should remove the salad plates and bring in the main course, but with heat still suffusing his groin, he was in no shape to stand.

  She jumped to her feet. "Why don't I get the next course? What should I bring?"

  Anything. Everything! Nick made a hasty adjustment to his pants once Eve turned away. "Not a thing. Sit down.
You're my guest."

  "Nonsense. I'm already up."

  Me, too.

  Croupier nodded.

  Nick followed her into the kitchen, the gentle sway of her hips again making Croupier react. "Everything in the oven's ready. Careful. It's all hot. I'll bring the duck."

  He transferred the nicely browned fowl to a waiting platter, drizzled warmed glaze over it, then garnished the platter with sprigs of fresh parsley and clusters of celery leaves per André's instructions.

  "My, my," Eve said, watching him with admiration.

  Croupier sure appreciated that look. Nick's pants were cutting off his circulation again. Even his chest felt tight.

  Eve took the dish of yams and the bowl of wild rice she'd just dished up to the table and returned. "Anything else?"

  "If I see something is missing, I'll come back." He kissed the tip of her sweet, turned up nose. "Let's eat."

  He centered the duck in front of his place, then seated Eve, not taking his own seat until he'd placed a second kiss on the tempting spot behind her ear.

  He picked up the carving knife. "Light meat or dark?"

  "Some of each?" she asked in the tentative way of an eight-year-old.

  Nick clenched his fist. Who was responsible for making Eve so embarrassingly shy when it came to revealing her heart's desires? Some dark night he'd like to catch that person in an alley and teach him or her a thing or two.

  "My pleasure."

  He began to carve thick, juicy slices of meat that steamed as he slid each one onto Eve's plate. She started to move her plate away. "Hang on. It takes a while for me to get to the dark meat but it's well worth the wait. I'm a leg and thigh man, too."

  Eve blushed.

  Hot damn! He hadn't meant anything suggestive by that comment, but was again reminded of the eating scene in Tom Jones. Not the hacking through of bones he was now forced to do, but the stripping of meat from those bones with sharp, white teeth.

  The sensual licking of greasy fingers.

  The...

  Croupier took that moment to remind him that his thoughts were no longer on carving the duck. Nick gripped the knife tighter and sliced off more dark meat for Eve. "There."

  Her ready smile was his thanks. "I'm impressed."