In It to Win It

by Morgan Kearns

  “No problem,” Nate said. As she headed upstairs, she heard Nate ask, “What are you gonna do today?”

  Knowing how Grayson’s home was decked out in green and red, Jane wasn’t sure she wanted to see her place after he got done working his decorating magic. She shoved her laptop into its padded bag and shrugged into her warm KHB coat.

  Grayson and Nate were discussing sports—specifically Christmas Day games—when she came down the stairs. “You’re welcome to come over. Roxie makes enough food for an army.”

  “We’ll let you know.” Grayson lifted his eyes to Jane’s, letting them rake over her from head to boot-covered feet. He smirked, a small lift of one corner.

  Jane knew that look.

  That look turned her on … because it meant Grayson had only one thing on his mind. The same thing she did; no clothes, no cares.

  Nate cleared his throat. “You ready?”

  “Yeah,” she said, her eyes still locked with Grayson’s. She walked toward the door, intent of avoiding any kind of contact with him. Leaving him home alone today was hard enough without doing so … aching.

  Grayson had other plans. His arm flashed out and captured around the waist as she strode past him. “She’ll be right out, Nate.”

  Nate chuckled, fully understanding that goodbye needed to be said—without an audience. He made a show of lifting his sleeve to look at his watch. “I’m giving you five minutes and then you can get yourself to work.”

  He shook his coat sleeve back into place, hiked the camera bag up onto his shoulder, and left.

  “Mmm. Five minutes,” Grayson murmured against her neck.

  Hard as she fought to stay strong against his efforts, she melted. She became a puddle right there at Grayson’s feet. She loved the way he kissed her, loved his every touch. It set her on fire and made her every bone melt away until she was supported only by Grayson.

  She tipped her head and he nuzzled her neck with his lips, biting and tasting. His hands drifted down her back to grip her bottom, pulling her hips to his.

  “You feel that?” he asked. “I’m going to be like that all day now.”

  She kissed his lips, a short peck. “I didn’t start this, so don’t go blaming me.”

  “I will blame you. If you weren’t so frickin’ hot, it wouldn’t be so hard—” He grinned, recognizing his own double entendre. “I meant … all of it, but yeah, that part of me is in a constant state of arousal whenever you’re around.”

  She ground her hips against his and he moaned. She giggled wickedly. “Good to know.” She stepped out of his embrace. “I’ve really got to go. I hate driving in the snow, so Nate’s my ride.”

  “I could take you.”

  “You take me places, alright. But I think it’d be safer to ride with Nate. At least that way I know I’ll get there with all my clothes on.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Damn straight.” She kissed her fingertips and blew him a kiss, not sure she could tear herself away from him again. “Gotta go.”

  He came toward her where she stood with her hand on the door handle. She twisted and jerked the door open. A cold blast of winter air rushed in. “One more thing before you go,” Grayson said.

  She put her hand out to keep him at an arm’s length. His heart was strong and steady under her palm. He looked down at her hand and grinned. He took her hand and kissed her fingertips, then her palm, then her wrist. Her heart rate raced and her pulse took off like a horse emerging from the starting gate. Her eyes drooped closed and a soft moan escaped her lips.

  “You’re killing me,” she panted.

  “Good.”

  Her eyes popped open to see his smug smile only inches from her face. “Now to my one thing—” He laughed when she scowled at him. “—where are your Christmas decorations?”

  “Um…” She wasn’t sure how much she liked the idea of him decorating her place. Not because it was him decorating her place. But as it turned out, she was kind of a Scrooge. She preferred the comparison with the old miser versus the owner of the ugly ass dog with the single horn on his head.

  “You do have Christmas decorations, right?”

  “A few. They’re on the shelf in my closet,” she said. He gave her a perplexed expression and she darted out the door before he could capture her again—and torture them both with his kisses. “I love you,” she yelled over her shoulder as she hurried down the walk.

  She climbed into the news vehicle and sighed. She could see Grayson where he stood at the end of her walk. He waved and she returned the gesture.

  Nate chuckled softly next to her. He pulled away from the curb and eased out of the parking lot.

  “What?” she asked, watching Grayson until he was out of sight.

  She turned to look at Nate and he shook his head, a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin plastered on his face. “I’m not sure who has it worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After visiting you at Grayson’s house, I thought he was the whipped one, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she gritted out, irritated and a little offended by Nate’s idea of pleasant drive to work conversation.

  “It’s definitely not a bad thing, Jane.” His smile spread until it completely covered his face. “In fact it’s a very, very good thing. I’m glad he makes you happy.”

  She went all warm and gooey inside. She looked in the rear view mirror, knowing full well that Grayson wouldn’t be looking back at her. “Me too.” She nodded, a smile of her own growing on her face. “Me too.”

  GRAYSON LET HIS WORRIES ABOUT DEREK GO the way of the wind. Being at Jane’s meant that Derek didn’t know where they were. Which meant that Jane was safe.

  Grayson spent the day doing one of the things he loved best. And when Jane got home he was going to do the thing he loved very most in the world.

  He hoped that Jane liked what he’d done with the place. Decorating for Christmas was something that he’d learned to love from the time he could crawl. His mother had instilled that love, and now he was proud to give Clark W. Griswold a run for his money every year.

  Festive didn’t begin to describe Jane’s home now. Red and green and gold covered every inch. He’d gotten the biggest tree her small living room could handle and put so many strands of lights on it that the thing could probably be seen from space. As for the decorations, they were in their boxes on the couch, waiting.

  A red table runner ran down the middle of Jane’s table. Grayson put the evergreen centerpiece in the middle and admired how nice the red roses and white carnations looked nestled in the dark green pine boughs.

  He stood back and admired his work.

  It looked good.

  The ten sprigs of mistletoe might have been overkill. But any excuse for him to kiss Jane was a good excuse in his book. He heard Jane’s key in the lock and nervous jitters skittered through his gut.

  All the lights were off except for the tree, which illuminated the entire downstairs. Fighting the urge to race to her and gather her in his arms, he planted his feet and waited for her reaction.

  She stepped inside and stomped her feet on the rug by the front door. As her head rose, she gasped. Then she sighed. Her hand moved to her mouth.

  Grayson wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Unable to stay away a moment longer, he took a tentative step toward her then paused until her gaze finally made it around to him. His hands were buried deep in his pockets.

  “Do you like it?”

  Her voice wobbled a bit. “I have never seen anything so beautiful.”

  Relieved breath rushed from his lungs in a whoosh. “I thought we could decorate the tree together. Maybe tomorrow morning?”

  She turned in a circle taking in the transformation of her home. “Yes, tomorrow morning,” she said wistfully.

  He walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. She leaned back against him and sighed. He rested his chin on top of her head and just let
the contented feelings swirl around them.

  “You’ve been busy,” she said.

  “I got your shopping done too.”

  “You did,” she nearly squealed and turned in his arms. “Oh, I could kiss you for that.”

  “Nobody’s stopping you.”

  Her head tipped back and she moved up on her tiptoes. Her lips were soft and warm against his cheek. He shouldn’t have been disappointed by the chaste contact, but being the honest guy he was, he admitted he was hoping for at least lip to lip.

  She must have understood his flash of dissatisfaction because she laughed softly. Her fingers entwined his and she tugged. “Come on, big boy, I’ll thank you properly upstairs.”

  THE NEXT MORNING AFTER THEY’D MADE love and showered—and made love again in the shower—Jane stood in front of the tree unsure of what to do. Grayson seemed to have the whole trimming-the-tree thing down.

  Bing Crosby crooned from the stereo and a delicious spicy scent wafted from the kitchen.

  Grayson pulled one of the bulb boxes open and held a bright red ball out to her. She wrapped her fingers around it gently. The fragile thing was cold in her hand. She stared down at it where it was perched on her palm.

  “Jane?”

  She looked up at him and blinked.

  Sadly, she wasn’t sure what to do with the stupid, beautiful ball. Her mother had never let her even touch the tree, let alone decorate it. When she’d first gone out on her own in college, Molly stepped into the tree decorating shoes. Once her own place came around, Jane didn’t much care for the memories that the tree and Christmas brought to life.

  So there you go … It didn’t take three ghosts for Jane to figure out why she hated Christmas. All it took was one glass ball, and the man who loved her.

  “It won’t break,” Grayson said with a smile. He was so close now that she could feel the heat from his body.

  When had he moved so close to her? She wasn’t sure, but was glad that he had.

  He plucked the bulb from her hand and stepped away. He held the hook between his forefinger and thumb. Before she could register the action, he opened his fingers and sent the ball into a freefall.

  She gasped and jumped back.

  Instead of a crash though, there was a small thud.

  No harm. No foul.

  Grayson bent at the waist and retrieved the ornament. He held it out to her. “Put it on the tree, love.”

  With a smile on her face, she moved forward and stood there. Her hand moved to the top right, paused, moved more to the center and froze again. She leaned over and reached out to place it on a bottom branch but stopped, yet again.

  Grayson’s warm fingers went around hers. “There is no wrong answer here. Pick a branch and stick it there. I don’t care if you rearrange the bulbs every day if that’s what makes you happy.”

  “Really?” Good hell, she sounded so disbelieving. She was so screwed up.

  “Yes, really. This is your tree, baby doll.”

  Warmth spread from the tips of her toes right up to the top of her head. She liked that there was no wrong answer. That she couldn’t mess up. That if she didn’t like it, she could redo it.

  This time when her hand reached out with the bulb, she let the hook grab onto a branch. She stood back for a moment and admired the single red ball hanging on the dark green tree and had never seen anything so beautiful.

  “You want another one?” Grayson asked, holding onto the hook of a silver ball.

  “Yeah. I do.” She took the ball and the first branch she reached for was now adorned with the decoration.

  One ball after another, Jane and Grayson decorated the tree. It was surprisingly liberating. If she’d known that this would be her reaction to putting ornaments on a tree, she would have done it years ago.

  Once it was all done, Jane leaned against Grayson. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it. But I think you were wrong about something.”

  “Me? Wrong?”

  She laughed. “It’s possible, Pierce. As wonderful as you are, you’re not perfect.”

  “Wow.” He put a hand over his heart and acted offended. “What was I so wrong about?”

  “It’s not my tree.” She snuggled in close to him. “It’s our tree.”

  18

  CHRISTMAS MORNING CAME WITH A LIGHT dusting of snow and a huge dose of excitement. Grayson couldn’t wait for Jane to open the presents he’d gotten for her. He could however wait until the end of time to visit her parents. Unfortunately, the end of time was scheduled to happen this afternoon.

  Grayson couldn’t say that he didn’t respect Jane’s parents because, well, they were … her parents. But he did have issues with the baggage Jane carried around.

  As a kid Grayson watched the moments when Jane’s mistakes were pointed out for the world to see by her own mother. As a teenager Grayson wanted to defend the girl he loved, but couldn’t find the cojones to speak up and potentially turn the wrath at himself.

  Things were different now; Grayson was a man.

  As a man he would defend the woman he loved, consequences be damned.

  Jane came back from the kitchen, two coffee mugs in her hands. “I love this punch. Your mom used to make it when we were kids.”

  “Yep, every Christmas. It’s a family recipe. I’m not even sure where it started.”

  She handed him a mug and sat down on the couch, curling her feet under her bottom. “It’s a great tradition that I plan on passing on to my kids.”

  The words our kids almost flew out. Luckily he was able to bite down and keep them on the tip of his tongue. They hadn’t discussed what the future had in store. He had offered a future as his wife—and the mother of his children—but she had declined without even a heartbeat of thought.

  All he knew was that she was with him in the present—and he didn’t plan on doing anything to jeopardize that.

  “You wanna do gifts now?” She practically bounced on the seat next to him and he wondered what she’d placed under the tree for him.

  “You want to open or give first?” he asked.

  “Give!” Not a single moment hesitation.

  She handed him her coffee mug which he placed on the end table next to his own. She melted off the couch and scurried to the tree on her knees. She handed him a square package. The shiny silver paper had white snowflakes on it, topped with a red bow so big it dangled over the edges.

  He took it from her and shook it. She giggled when it didn’t make a sound. He frowned and looked at her. It was the exact size and shape of a CD.

  He held it up and very obviously scrutinized the size. “Gee, I wonder what it is.”

  She slapped at his knee. “Open it, then you won’t have to wonder.”

  The smile on her face and the twinkle of mis-chievous delight in her eyes made his heart warm and he fell in love with her all over again. He tore open a corner, his eyes on hers. Sliding a finger up the center of the paper revealed a clear CD case.

  Was he good, or what?

  It wasn’t a CD though. It was a DVD.

  “What’s this? Home movies?” he asked, the thought making tingles of anticipation shiver through his lower regions.

  A burst of laughter erupted out of her, making him laugh too. “No. You’d know if those existed. It’s your interview.”

  That made him smile. He looked down at the silver disk again and appreciated what he held in his hands. It signified what she truly thought of him. Her thoughts and feelings would be evident in the pictures and words in the story she shared with the world.

  “Can we watch it now?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  He realized how selfish that made him. “Why don’t you open yours and then we’ll watch it.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She took the DVD from his hands and popped it into the player. She crossed back to him and snuggled up next to him on the couch. Her legs were folded under her and her head rested on his shoulder.
>
  The first frame popped up and she hit play. Her voice filled the room as a picture of him on the field filled the screen.

  “Grayson Pierce is known by most as a man who enjoys his cars, his liquor and his women. This reporter was given the chance to find out what the world doesn’t know about him.”

  His face popped up. “I know that fame comes with the fortune, but I prefer anonymity.”

  The picture panned across the outline of his ranch, enough to give an idea of the beauty but not the location.

  “Anonymity he might be able to achieve, but this baseball all-star is far from anonymous. He is a hometown boy, devoted to those he cares about.”

  Grayson groaned when his mother’s face appeared. “When did you…?”

  “Shh!”

  Maude was smiling. “Grayson’s always taken the best care of me he could. When he was five he thought he’d drive to the store and get me some medicine when I was sick with the flu.”

  The picture of his face covered in ink popped up as his mother continued, “At one point he was determined to become an artist to support us.”

  The story continued, portraying Grayson in exactly the way he wanted; loving, caring, kind … decent.

  Finally Jane came on screen. She was bundled in her winter clothes, standing on the front porch. “I have to admit that I too bought the façade of the man we’ve all seen over the years.” She stepped off the porch and walked toward the camera, her face getting closer. “But after spending a week, living the real life Grayson lives, I can tell you that he is a wonderful man. Reporting from the home of Grayson Pierce, Utah’s very own MVP, this is Jane Alexander, KHB Sports.”

  The screen went black.

  Grayson didn’t know what to say. His eyes stung and he blinked. His throat was tight and he cleared it so that he might be able to say something. Jane’s body tensed next to his. He guessed she thought he didn’t like it, when only the contrary was true.

  “Is it okay? I can change it,” she stammered. “Dale wants to wait to air it until February ratings anyway. Which part didn’t you—”