Kissing Under the Mistletoe

by Marina Adair

  Her breathing, however, was coming fast and furious.

  “What the hell are you thinking?” Gabe said the second the door slid closed. It was part statement–part question, and completely judgmental. “You can’t let her sleep on the floor.”

  Regan marched across the room, glaring the whole way. “Don’t you ever tell me how to raise my daughter. Do you think this is what I want for her?”

  “I’m sorry, but it just can’t be good.” His eyes raked over the dismal apartment. It wasn’t the Ritz, but she and Holly had survived worse. And they would survive this.

  “Kids do it all the time at sleepovers. This is no different.”

  “Sleepovers don’t smell like...God, what is that?” Gabe sniffed the air. “It’s like wet dog or—”

  “I live above a corkery, which aside from the smell—” Regan held her breath. It didn’t smell like wet dog, it smelled worse. “Can be a cool place to live when you’re a kid. But the minute you start questioning, she’ll go from feeling like this is an adventure to feeling like she should be ashamed of her...of where we live.” She couldn’t stomach using the word home to describe their current living condition.

  Gabe closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

  “I know this isn’t ideal, but I am doing the best I can.” Regan leaned against the wall, so tired that it took everything she had not to cry. Or hyperventilate. “Please...don’t ruin this for us.”

  Gripping the back of his neck, Gabe stared at the ceiling. “Look, why don’t I load up some of the furniture from the cottage and bring it over.”

  Like that was going to happen. Martin women made their own way. “We’ll manage just fine.”

  “Let me help you. This is partly my fault.”

  “Partly?” Was this guy serious?

  “Christ, Regan. I can’t leave you two here in this—”

  “Careful,” Regan said, stepping forward again and poking him in the chest. “You’re about to say something about my home. And I know that compared to your Armani McMansion this seems like a pathetic little dump. But it’s my pathetic little dump.”

  The past week had drained her, played on every one of her insecurities. And being here with him, like he was today, had thrown her off balance. Gabe DeLuca could be charming, funny, even gentle when he wanted to be, which for her was more dangerous than the asshole she’d come to know and loathe. Problem was, reconciling him with that guy who’d been determined to ruin her life was becoming more and more difficult. And that made her nervous.

  When he was going for the jugular, Regan knew how to respond. Because there, at least, she understood the rules. So of course Gabe had to go and say, “You’re right, Regan. And I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve started saying that a lot.”

  “Only to you,” he whispered, tugging on her ponytail and—oh boy—her stomach did a funny little flip right up into her chest. Not good.

  “And I mean it every time. I am so sorry.” He opened his mouth to say more, but instead of speaking he took a step closer.

  Regan’s fingers wouldn’t listen to reason. They tangled in his shirt, pulling him even closer. She could feel the strong beat of his heart vibrate under her hand and wondered what it would feel like to fall asleep listening to that.

  Gabe’s head tilted to look at her hand, which was now splayed over his chest, and she felt his pulse speed up. His head didn’t move, but his eyes flew to hers. They were the most intense shade of brown and so heavy with want that Regan felt her whole body actually tingle with awareness.

  When Gabe reached out, his hand sliding into her hair and tipping her face to his, three things hit her all at once. First, she knew that he was going to kiss her. Knew that it would be the kind of kiss that would literally change the game. And once it happened there would be no stopping it.

  Because—and this was where the second realization came into play—kissing Gabe would lead to one hot roll in the sack. And since the only kind of sack Regan owned had a zipper and a sleeping five-year-old, any sacking would be had in the bed of a man whose family—minus a meddling grandma—hated her. Which was a one-night roll straight into disaster.

  Finally, Gabe would be an incredible lover. Although he was six-plus feet of muscle and sexy male, he also had a gentleness about him. She had seen it in the way he treated his grandmother and how patiently he sat while Holly carefully wrapped each and every toy in bubble wrap before letting him place it in the moving box. And she felt it now in the way his hands confidently held her to him, while his finger gently traced her lower lip.

  This was a man who would ruin her. Not just for other men, but period. Because there was no future for them, and she was afraid that after him there would be no going back.

  Knowing all that, Regan realized that she was in trouble. This kiss was going to happen, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. So instead of telling him no, she slid her arms around his neck and stepped flush with him, something quivering deep in her belly when his arm tightened around her waist.

  “This is crazy,” he whispered, and before she could agree his mouth was on hers.

  Slow and gentle, his lips cradling hers. He tilted his head, taking the kiss deeper and making every single synapse in her brain fire simultaneously.

  Holy Mother of God, the man could kiss. They hadn’t even made it past first base and Regan’s head was spinning. Which was why, she told herself, when Gabe eased back she found herself practically crawling up his chest with her hands fisted in his hair.

  “Wow,” was all she could manage, and even that came out breathy. Gabe smirked and she smirked back, until reality set in. And she understood how incredibly stupid they’d both just been.

  He must have sensed her withdraw, because they both let go of each other at the same time and took a gigantic step back.

  “We can’t—”

  “I know—”

  “That was—”

  “Hot as hell—”

  “This can’t happen again.”

  “Agreed,” Gabe said with a decisive nod. Then he grabbed a stack of boxes and headed for the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Moving you back to the cottage,” he said, halfway to the front door. “You can stay until you find something”—he shot her a look over his shoulder—“furnished.”

  Regan was on him in two strides. She reached for the boxes, but when he merely raised them over his head and out of reach, she wedged herself between his massive body and the door frame. “Are you offering me my job back?”

  Gabe released a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. Not a good sign.

  “I can’t, Vixen. I can’t risk you and Abby running into each other. Plus she’s a partner in Ryo. ChiChi might be the face of Ryo, but Abby’s the passion behind it.”

  “And you think me living in the cottage is going to solve that problem?” Regan’s stomach sank to her toes. “Gabe, we live in the same town, we’re bound to run into each other. Me and Holly living on Ryo’s property is a guarantee that we will run into each other. A lot.”

  “Damn it, Regan. What do you want me to do?”

  “Give me my job back,” she said, tired of always getting the sucky end of the straw. Gabe dutifully went to the extreme to protect his family; Regan would do the same.

  “Move in with me.”

  “What?” There was no way she’d heard him right. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Can and am. I have way too much space for one guy and”—he looked around, genuine regret in his eyes—“this place is way too small for the two of you.”

  Regan shook her head, which was only adding to the ache that had been growing there since she’d run into him in the parking lot two weeks ago. If he kept looking at her like that, the ache would drop to her heart.

  “Listen.” He set the boxes down and, after prying her hands off the door frame, took them in his. “I fucked up. Big time. I never
intended for you to end up here. All I was trying to do was protect my sister. Let me fix this.” She opened her mouth, but he went on. “I’ve got three spare rooms. My place is so big, we won’t even see each other. And Holly will be close to the school.”

  “She’s close now.”

  “So are the local dealers and punk-ass kids who’ll steal your tires.”

  “I know where I live, Gabe. And I don’t need you to fix my life.” Although if he kept stroking his thumb over her wrists, she might melt into a puddle at his feet. “You and I living in the same space—” She shook her head. “We just agreed that taking this...attraction any further could never happen.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “No. I agreed that you and Holly can’t end up in a shithole again. I never said anything about not kissing you again.” He wagged a brow. “Or sex being off the table.”

  God, sex. Something Regan had accepted that she would never have again. Between being heartbroken, her mom dying, and raising Holly, she hadn’t had a man-made orgasm in six long years. But single motherhood didn’t leave time for men, and Holly was her main focus right now.

  Plus, Regan had already learned her lesson with regard to relying on someone else for survival. It was too hard when they walked away. And with women like her, they always walked away.

  “I don’t date.”

  “Ever?” He sounded shocked. And she guessed it did sound weird. She was only twenty-seven, and already she had resigned herself to the life of a retiree. Although, she’d worked at a retirement community for a few months and those people had sex. A lot of sex. Which made her next admission a bit embarrassing.

  “Not since Richard. Holly is my number one priority right now. And think of how your family would react to you living with Richard’s ex-mistress.” His panicked expression proved her point. Even though it shouldn’t sting, it did. “I won’t put Holly through that. Or myself.” Not again.

  “I don’t know how to fix this.”

  His voice broke her heart. Here was a guy, a surprisingly good guy, who just wanted to keep everyone safe. She admired that, even though she knew from experience that it was an impossible goal to keep.

  “You already did,” she whispered. “By making my kid feel like she matters. And helping me through a really hard day.”

  Slowly she extracted one hand and fished through her front pocket. She closed her eyes when her finger brushed metal. Taking Gabe’s hand, she maneuvered it palm up and placed the item in it before closing his fingers around it.

  “So this is where I say, ‘Thank you, Gabe, for all your help.’” She stretched up on the tips of her toes and brushed his cheek with her lips, her hand still covering his. “And you say, ‘No problem. See you around, Vixen.’”

  The moment her hand was free of his, the weight was lifted, releasing her from the past. He had given her the moment she was desperate for, the day when she got to move on with her life, free of the guilt and regret. Regan wanted to smile, laugh, and cry—all at the same time. But she would wait until she was alone and Holly was in bed for the night.

  Gabe opened his fingers and froze. His eyes flickered to her and back to the platinum and diamond band that lay on his open palm. It was as beautiful as it had been the night Richard slid it on her finger. Only now, when she looked at it, she saw it for what it was, a stunning piece of twisted metal and crystallized carbon.

  “Why?” was all he said, but that one word held so much pain.

  “I saw how you looked at it the night we met. You search my hands every time we run into each other. I figured Richard didn’t get it at an estate sale.”

  Gabe’s fingers traced the filigree scrollwork on the antique band. “It was my mom’s. My dad got it for her on their twenty-fifth anniversary. Abby thought she had lost it.”

  “Well then, I’m glad it’s back with the right family.”

  She stepped back and held open the door. But Gabe didn’t leave. Instead he studied her much like his grandmother had. Yet the pain in his eyes when he looked back at the ring, clutching it as if he was afraid he might lose it, tugged at her heart. Because that feeling Regan connected with in a way that only someone who had lost something precious could.

  “Now, it’s your turn, Gabe.”

  She could tell he didn’t want to leave. But she needed him to because she was one heartbeat away from falling for him.

  “No problem. See you around, Vixen.” He hugged her and Regan found herself clinging to his strength. Giving herself just a moment to pretend that she was the kind of woman a man like him would want to come home to.

  He released her and then he was gone.

  She closed the door and leaned against it. Something crunched as she pressed herself against the wood. Reaching in her back pocket, she knew that the tears wouldn’t wait. Because her panties were missing. And in their place was the envelope with her money.

  CHAPTER 7

  By the time Regan and Holly arrived at school, Regan had a permanent twitch behind her right eye. Holly had spent the entire morning chattering on about the move, her new room, and her new friend, Gabe. She wondered—aloud and often—where he lived, if he had a pet, how he knew her favorite doughnuts were the ones with the pink sprinkles on top. Making Regan wonder what in the heck she had been thinking, taking him up on the offer to help her move. Not to mention that kiss. Which was why avoiding him was the best option.

  “Lauren!” Holly yelled, dropping Regan’s hand so she could wave her own excitedly at the blonde-haired girl who stood at the end of the hallway under a new batch of Missing Randolph posters. Lauren’s little face went wide and she started jumping up and down, chanting Holly’s name.

  “Mommy! That’s Lauren!” Holly tugged on Regan’s coat, which was buttoned from knee to neck. She wasn’t embarrassed about the polyester blend she had on underneath, but she also didn’t want to advertise that she cleaned toilets. Not at Holly’s school.

  “She’s in my class and she likes kitties too. We played together at recess. She and Summer and Chloe were pretending to be orphaned baby kittens in the wild, and she was really nice and let me play with them. It’s Lauren!” Holly said in one long breath with no pauses, her voice elevating with each word.

  “Yes, you’ve told me about Lauren.” And Regan assumed Summer and Chloe were the other two girls who had joined in the jumping. “Why don’t you bring them over and introduce us?”

  Holly had barely made it ten feet before the three girls surrounded her, each taking their turn in giving her daughter a hug.

  Regan’s breath caught in her throat. This is what she wanted for Holly. This moment, right here. Friends. Happiness. Connection.

  Roots.

  And no matter how hard it got, she would do anything to keep her kid as happy as she was right then.

  “It’s the same thing at our house.” A woman approached Regan. Dressed in designer slacks and ridiculously high heels, with sculpted blonde hair, she was the epitome of Napa Valley society. She also looked incredibly stuck up and vaguely familiar. Regan pulled her coat tighter. “Lauren talks about Holly nonstop. She’s been hounding me for days about setting up a playdate.”

  Regan felt herself relax. Mommy talk she could do. It was something she had mastered early on in Holly’s life. If she kept the conversation on the kids, people were too wrapped up in bragging to notice that Regan was at least a good decade younger.

  “Holly would love that. She says Lauren is quite the singer.”

  “She gets that from my side,” the woman preened. “Actually, all of my daughters have landed the role in the community Christmas musical. This is Lauren’s year. She’s purr-fect for Christmas Kitty.”

  Regan swallowed. “Christmas Kitty is the lead?”

  “The play is called Christmas Kitty Goes to Frogtown,” Lauren’s mother enunciated slowly, as if Christmas Kitty Goes to Frogtown had starred Julie Andrews and won the Tony for Best Musical Featuring Felines and F
aux Fur. “And Lauren will do brilliantly.”

  “I didn’t know it was already cast.”

  “Oh, it’s just a matter of semantics. And don’t worry about Holly.” Miss Actor’s Guild leaned in, patting Regan on the shoulder. “All the kids understand that a Stark gets the lead. It’s tradition. Not every girl can hold center stage, but the chorus members are just as important; they’re the foundation of any play. Oh, and by the way, I’m Isabel Stark.”

  “Of course you are.” Regan swallowed, taking Isabel’s hand and shaking it. The woman was not only a stuck-up b—bad word, she looked familiar because she had been Gabe’s date to the Ryo Christmas party.

  Gabe, who had kissed Regan just last night. The same Gabe who had asked her to live with him—well, not with him but with him. God, she hated men.

  “I’m Regan Martin.”

  Isabel gave Regan a long, thorough examination, her brows furrowing, which looked bizarre since her forehead didn’t move. “Have we met?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Stanford, class of—”

  “Nope.” Try Clovisville High, class of not all that long ago.

  There went the unmoving forehead again. “Are you sure? You look so familiar and I never forget a face.”

  Maybe it was when I was dancing with your date? God, even if the woman grated on Regan’s every nerve, no one deserved to see another woman dancing with their date. Time to say sorry. “I think we may have been at the same party—”

  “Mommy,” Holly called, she and her three friends bounding up, their little pigtails and curly poofs bouncing with every step. “This is Summer, Lauren, and Chloe. And we’re the...” Holly stopped.

  All four girls looked at each other for a quick second, their faces scrunched in confusion, then Lauren directed as they scrambled around until they were in a straight line, ranging from shortest to tallest, with Holly being on the shortest side and Lauren on the tallest. Isabel smiled proudly at her daughter’s ability to lead.

  “And we’re the...” Lauren repeated Holly’s earlier words.