Kissing Santa, A Clover Park Novella (Clover Park, Book 4) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series)

by Kylie Gilmore

  “It’s almost too pretty to drink,” she said.

  “Drink up. It’s good.”

  She sipped. Omigod. The whipped cream was light and sweet, the chocolate so rich and creamy. She’d never tasted anything so good.

  “This is fantastic!” she exclaimed.

  He grinned. “I told you. Shane just told me he’s gonna be a dad. I knew it.”

  “Aw. That’s great. I’m happy for them.” She scooped out the marshmallow and took a bite. Heavenly! She’d never had a homemade marshmallow before. It was gooey and tasted like peppermint and the chocolate it had been soaking in. She pointed to her mouth and, after she finished chewing, muttered, “Omigod. So good. When are they getting married?”

  He smiled. “The wedding’s in two weeks, New Year’s Eve.”

  “My mother would kill me if I was pregnant before the wedding,” she confided.

  “Good to know.”

  She flushed and took another sip of hot chocolate, feeling cozy and warm, like they were in their own little cocoon despite all the people around them. They talked comfortably about their favorite music and movies while they finished their drinks. Rico helped her put her coat on. She was so glad Rico had finally shown his true colors to her.

  “Come back to my place?” he asked.

  She nodded, her pulse racing. She wanted this, wanted him.

  He flashed a smile, gave her a quick kiss, and led the way.

  A short drive later, they arrived at his apartment. Rico stopped at the front door. “Wait here.”

  He went inside. Samantha waited. That was strange. What was he up to?

  He came out a minute later, swept her up in his arms, and carried her over the threshold.

  “Oh!” she gasped, surprised by the sudden pickup as well as the apartment. The place was dark, except for white twinkling Christmas lights strung all along the ceiling, along the archway separating the kitchen from the small dining area, and around a large ficus tree. Harry Connick Jr. crooned in the background. “It’s beautiful!”

  He gazed into her eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

  And amazingly, she believed him. It wasn’t a line. He actually meant it. About her. He carried her to the sofa and set her down. Sitting next to her, he stroked her hair, pushing it over her ear. He cradled her cheek and slowly leaned in. Samantha’s eyes closed, and his lips met hers, kissing her tenderly. It was a long, slow, deep kiss, and warmth spread all the way down to her toes. His hand remained on her cheek, the other resting on her thigh, not moving, and she waited for more, wanted more. Until she finally couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him down with her on the sofa.

  He sat up and removed her necklace, which had been poking between them, and returned to kiss the side of her neck, feathering light kisses down to her collarbone, tasting her. He returned to her mouth, his tongue dipping in, and something in her snapped. She thrust her tongue in his mouth, her hands running all over him, suddenly crazy to have him. She tugged at his shirt, wanting it off, wanting nothing between them, desperate for skin on skin.

  His mouth worked along her jawline, seeming in no hurry despite her frantic hands. He kissed his way up to her ear, where he murmured, “Samantha,” as his clever hands undid the front clasp of her bra. He pulled back and slipped off her sweater and bra. Then he was kissing her again, his hands cupping her breasts as his rough fingers brushed back and forth across her nipples. She moaned, her hands fisting on the back of his shirt. Then his mouth dipped to suckle her breast, and the throbbing between her legs intensified.

  “Rico,” she said on a sigh.

  He pulled back and gazed down at her breasts. “So, so beautiful.” He kissed one breast, then the other reverently.

  She pulled at his shirt again. “Take this off.”

  He stood, but instead of taking off his shirt, he pulled her with him and led her into the bedroom. She had a brief glimpse of a king-size bed with a black comforter before he was kissing her again and guiding her down to the bed. She pulled at his shirt again.

  “This is all about you, baby,” he murmured before kissing his way down her body. She quivered as he undid the button on her jeans and unzipped them. She lifted her hips, and he slid them down. She was instantly rewarded with a hot kiss over her center, his tongue pressing there through her damp panties.

  She reached for him. “I want—”

  “I know what you want,” he said in the voice of the extremely confident as he slid off her panties. He nudged her legs apart and settled between them. He pushed in closer, his shoulders opening her as her legs were forced over his shoulders. She glanced down, she was spread wide open with his hot gaze on her most private area. Omigod was she really going to let him—

  His fingers spread her folds, and he stroked her with his tongue. All thoughts flew from her brain. His mouth was magic, and she gave in to it as he used his lips and tongue, bringing her to the brink again and again, only to change to soft, light kisses that had her frantic and restless. She lifted her hips, silently begging for release, and then his fingers were inside of her, spreading her as his mouth sucked hard. She cried out as she convulsed with wave after wave of pleasure.

  Finally she stilled. She felt him lean back, releasing her legs, and she lay there sated and boneless. Then he was kissing her softly, stroking her hair again. She opened her eyes. He was propped up on one elbow, looking down at her, still fully dressed.

  She smiled. “That was amazing.”

  He grinned. “I could tell.”

  “Take off your clothes,” she said. “We’re not done yet.”

  He cradled her cheek. “That was just for you.”

  “But—”

  His fingers touched her lips, shushing her. “Mi querida,” he murmured.

  The term of endearment shot straight to her heart. My love. In that moment she would’ve done anything for him. She reached for him and pulled, wanting his weight on her, wanting him inside her.

  He didn’t move. Instead he took her hands and held them. “I want to be a giver.”

  She sat up. “Me too.”

  He sat up and gave her a quick kiss. “This is something new for me. Just let me do this. Okay?”

  Her brows furrowed in confusion. Did he not want her?

  She put her bra and sweater back on, still tingling all over. He stood and handed her her panties that had fallen to the floor. She glanced at the front of his jeans where his erection bulged. He did want her. Why was he holding back?

  She worked up the panties and jeans and leaned back to button them. Something jabbed into the back of her head. There, wedged between the pillow and the headboard was a book, Highlander’s Mission. She held it up, puzzled. Had another woman left her book here? She owned this one. There was a really hot scene where the laird pleasures the heroine after her bath and then leaves her like that, wanting him.

  Omigod. She went hot and cold all over. Rico was still pulling fake moves. Only now it was from books instead of movies.

  She so wanted to be wrong about this. Her voice came out unsteady. “Whose book is this?”

  His cheeks flushed. “It’s my sister’s!”

  “I thought your sisters lived in other states.”

  “It’s her Christmas present.”

  Then his words came back to her. When she’d thought he’d sounded so formal, I’m a strong man, and I need a strong woman at my side, it was the laird. Omigod, Rico was playing the laird. She felt the blood drain from her cheeks. Felt downright cold. She could barely look at him. She’d been played. Big time.

  “You read this, didn’t you?” she accused.

  He looked guilty as all hell. “I peeked.”

  She stared at him, willing him to be honest with her for once. “Rico?”

  He crossed his arms. “Fine. I read it, okay?”

  “Why?”

  His mouth formed a flat line.

  “Why?” she hollered.

  “Elena told me to, so I’d know how to make you feel special,”
he said quietly. His chin jutted out. “And it worked too! You loved it.”

  She stood on shaky legs. “Who are you? Who’s the real Rico? Are you always putting on an act?”

  “No! I just wanted to be what you wanted.”

  “I want someone who’s real.” She shoved a hand through her hair as anger rushed through her. “How can I trust you when everything you do is a carefully constructed show?”

  He planted his hands on his hips. “What are you so mad about? You liked everything I did.” He ticked off his good deeds on his fingers like it was a damn checklist on how to fool Samantha. “I talked about feelings. I took you shopping. I took things slow. I went down on you.”

  “That was from a book?” she exclaimed, her voice hitting a high note of indignation. She couldn’t help it. She’d just had the most amazing orgasm of her life from Laird Blackwood.

  He shrugged. “I usually receive. Those novels really spell out how to make it good for the woman.”

  “Omigod!”

  He pinned her with a hot look. “Tell me that wasn’t the best orgasm of your life.”

  “That’s not—it’s not,” she stuttered.

  He gave her a cocky smile. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  “Shut up!”

  She headed for the living room and grabbed her coat and purse. She couldn’t believe she’d let herself be fooled by him again. She was more mad at herself than him at this point. She should’ve known better. All the signs were there.

  He appeared at her side. “Damn, Samantha, you are the most difficult woman I’ve ever met.”

  She gave him a hard look. “And you are the most deceitful man I’ve ever met.”

  They drove back to her place in dead silence. The cheerful carols on the radio grated on her nerves, mocking what she’d thought was a beautiful beginning with the most romantic, loving man she’d ever met. I will not cry, I will not cry. She made it all the way to her room before she broke down in tears.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rico headed for Garner’s the next night feeling lower than low. He still didn’t know why things had blown up in his face yesterday. He’d done everything right. Every damn thing women wanted, he’d done for Samantha. And still she got mad. There was just no pleasing her. Just when he thought he’d finally figured out this love thing, the rug was pulled out from under him. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t taking any more advice from his sisters. What did they know? They were married with kids.

  He opened the door of the restaurant, ignoring all the cheerful decorations and the happy hum of voices inside, and headed straight to the bar. Trav was there, waiting for him. He’d called his friend, unwilling to sit at home where memories of a naked Samantha haunted him.

  “Hey,” Trav said, pushing a Corona toward him.

  “Thanks,” Rico said.

  “No problem.” Trav took in his no-doubt sour expression. “So what went wrong? Tell Trav, he knows all, sees all.”

  Rico snorted and took a long pull on his beer. “I thought I did everything right.”

  “Yeah.” Trav sipped his beer. “You know what? Forget her.” Trav nodded like he was one of the fucking wise men. “There’s plenty more where she came from.”

  Rico socked him on the arm hard. “Shut up!”

  Trav laughed and clapped him on the back. “You finally got hit with the love stick. Hurts like hell, doesn’t it?”

  “Fucking love stick.”

  “I knew it’d get you sooner or later.”

  Rico’s shoulders slumped. “What am I gonna do?”

  Trav took a pull on his beer. “I’ll tell you what you’re not gonna do. Let her come to you. Worst advice ever.”

  Rico shook his head. That was the advice he’d given Trav when Daisy didn’t immediately fall into his arms. Luckily Trav ignored him and was now happily married.

  Rico eyed him. “So what’s the best advice?”

  Trav grabbed a handful of pretzels from a bowl on the bar. “Tell me the problem, and I’ll tell you how to fix it.”

  If only it were that easy. There was no easy solution. He’d been up most of the night, replaying their time together, looking at it from all the angles. He really had done everything right.

  He shoved a hand in his hair. “I don’t know what the problem is! That’s what’s so frustrating. I’m telling you, I did everything right.”

  Trav shook his head. “When a guy thinks he did everything right, chances are he didn’t. Tell me what she said, her exact words.”

  His leg jiggled up and down. “Which part?”

  Trav popped a pretzel in his mouth and chewed. “The bad part.”

  Rico stilled his leg. “I told her she was the most difficult woman I’d ever met, and she said I was the most deceitful man she’d ever met.”

  Trav stopped, beer bottle halfway to his mouth. “That’s harsh.”

  “I know! I’m not deceitful. I never lied to her.”

  Trav shot him a look. “No, Einstein, I meant you saying she was the most difficult woman you’d ever met. Not exactly a love sonnet there.”

  Rico frowned. “Well, what about what she said?”

  “That’s harsh too. Damn, you guys are mean.” He ate another pretzel. “I don’t envy you.”

  Rico’s spirits sank to an all-new low. “Me neither.”

  They drank beer in silence. Trav watched some hockey on TV while Rico stared at the bar, feeling hopeless. Dammit. Why did he have to fall in love with the most difficult woman on earth? It made no sense. He was an idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Trav’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Rico had no idea what he’d just said.

  “What?” Rico asked.

  Trav raised a brow. “I said, if you didn’t lie, why would she say you were deceitful?”

  Rico played with the label on his beer bottle. There was no way he was going to admit to stealing moves from chick flicks and romance novels. “I dunno.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Rico rolled his neck to relieve the tension there. “I might know.”

  Trav grinned. “Do tell.”

  “I’m not telling you that shit.”

  “Ooo-hoo-hoo, this just gets better and better.” Trav chortled.

  “Shut it.”

  Rico went back to his beer. He watched some game highlights, but all he could think about was Samantha. He’d lost her. There was no way she’d give him another chance. Nearly every date had ended in disaster. There was no hope. Zero. He blew out a breath of frustration and dropped his head in his hands.

  Trav took pity on him. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. Just apologize for whatever you did, tell her you won’t do it again, and ask her for another chance.”

  He was supposed to apologize for trying to make her dreams come true, promise not to do it again, and ask for another chance? Why in the world would she give him a second chance for that? She should want him to make her dreams come true. That’s what didn’t make any sense.

  Women were so damn confusing.

  ~ ~ ~

  Two days later, Rico mailed all the romance novels to Elena with a note: These were no help at all. He couldn’t stand looking at them for one more minute. They taunted him with their hot sex and happy endings. He got in his truck and headed for home. Samantha wanted him to be himself? He was a guy who liked to drink beer and watch the Knicks. Was that what she wanted? A guy date, take it or leave it?

  Wait a minute. She said she wanted him to be himself. He found himself turning around, heading toward Eastman, heading toward Samantha. What did he have to lose?

  Rico didn’t bother with flowers or rehearsing the right lines or any of that stuff he’d thought he needed to impress Samantha. She wanted him to be the real Rico, then that’s what she’d get. He parked and walked quickly to the front door before he could lose his nerve. He knocked and waited, hoping it would be Samantha who answered the door.

  “Hello, Rico,” Mrs. Dixon said with a big smile on her face. “I had a feeling you
would show up here. Samantha is very cranky. I’m sure you can help cheer her up.”

  “I’ll try,” he said.

  “Sam, Rico is here for you!” her mother called up the stairs.

  “Tell him to go away!” Samantha hollered.

  Rico frowned. Mrs. Dixon huffed and marched over to the foot of the stairs. “You get down here right now and listen to what he has to say.”

  “He’s a big phony, Ma!” Samantha hollered. “Tell him I said that.”

  “I can hear you!” Rico hollered up the stairs.

  Mr. Dixon appeared in the foyer and came over to shake Rico’s hand. “How ya doing?”

  Rico shifted uncomfortably as he stood with the parents of the woman he loved, who was doing a very good job of making him feel lower than a damned cockroach. “I could be better. Can you get Samantha to come downstairs?”

  Mr. Dixon held up a finger and walked upstairs.

  Mrs. Dixon smiled at him. “So how is your mother?”

  “She’s well, thank you.” He could hear arguing upstairs. “How are you?”

  She rocked back and forth on her heels. “Good, good. Don’t worry. She’ll come down. She's just very stubborn.”

  “No kidding,” Rico muttered.

  Finally Samantha walked downstairs with her father right behind her, and Rico’s heart thumped like crazy. She wore jogging pants and a baggy sweatshirt and her hair up in a messy ponytail.

  She’d never looked more beautiful.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Okay, I’m listening,” Samantha said, arms crossed against him. She wouldn’t be taken in by this phony one more time. She couldn’t believe she’d kept going out with him even after all their fights and disastrous dates. After moping around the last few days, she’d vowed to be smart about romance and not just drift off to la-la dreamland, thinking she could have the kind of love you only found in fiction.

  Her parents stepped back but didn’t leave the room.

  “Should we go somewhere more private?” Rico asked.

  “Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of them.” She looked over to her parents. “I want them to hear what I’m dealing with.”