by Alison Kent
Maybe Calliope was right, and it was time to talk it out. If he and Cassandra could have a civil conversation that lasted five minutes.
He strolled toward her, and she came toward him, looking as wary as he felt.
She was still as beautiful as he remembered—even more so, her long blond hair straight and pulled back into a ponytail. She wore heels, some fancy black coat and a party dress.
“You come from a party?” he asked as they stopped a couple feet from each other.
“Real-estate event, yes. A holiday party, like yours.”
“How’s business?”
“Good. I hear yours is going very well.”
“It is.”
“Wyatt. Is there someplace less…busy…where we could talk?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Yeah.” He led her through the lobby and into one of the private ballrooms that wasn’t having an event tonight, flipped on the lights and pulled up a chair at a dressed-up table that was set up for some luncheon tomorrow.
She slipped off her coat and he grabbed a chair, straddling it to face her.
“It’s been a long time,” she finally said.
“Yeah.”
Neither of them said anything for a while. Wyatt didn’t know where to start, what to say. For years he’d thought of nothing but the words he’d say to her if he ever saw her again. Angry words. Hurtful words. Now, seeing her, she looked small, vulnerable, not the pit viper he’d conjured up in his head all these years.
“Calliope forced me to come here,” Cassandra finally said. “She browbeat me, said the two of us left things…open. That there was so much animosity between us, neither of us could move on with our lives until we had closure.”
“She’s good at pushing people into doing what they don’t want to do.”
Cassandra laughed. “She’s pushy. Always has been.”
“I love that about her,” he said, then lifted his gaze.
“It’s okay. I know you two have been seeing each other for a while. It’s all right, Wyatt. I think it’s well past time we both move on, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“You two are a good fit. You and I never were.”
“You’re right about that,” he said, and found himself falling into conversation with her easier than he thought he would. “I fell in love with the prettiest girl in town. I put you on a pedestal, and projected everything I wanted out of life on to you, expecting you to toe the line. I was blind to the fact the things I wanted weren’t the same things you wanted.”
For the first time, she smiled. “I did the same thing. You were the boy all the girls in town wanted, so I set my sights on you. Then I thought I could turn you into the man I wanted you to be, but you were never that man. I was wrong to try and change you.”
“So we both screwed up.”
She laughed then. “We should have never gotten married. We were never right for each other.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Her eyes glistened with tears. “I’m sorry, too.”
This wasn’t what he expected. She wasn’t what he expected. All these years, he’d had an image of her in his head, and she wasn’t that person at all.
“Are you happy now?” he asked.
“I am. I’m getting there. I love my job, and where I live. I’m seeing someone who treats me well, and we do want the same things. I’ve learned to be honest about what I want—and what I don’t want. I have learned from my mistakes.”
He inhaled, let out a long breath. “Yeah, I’m still learning, obviously.”
She laid her hand over his. “Do you really love my sister?”
“Yes.”
“No hesitation. I like that.” She stood. “I love her too. She’s perfect for you.”
He needed to ask, needed to know. “Does that hurt you, that I’m in love with Calliope?”
She paused, tilted her head. “Not at all. I think maybe we’re both moving on, don’t you think?”
“I think so.” They both stood and he helped her with her coat. “I’m sorry for the pain.”
She hugged him, and he realized he felt nothing. No anger, no bitterness, nothing at all.
She turned around and smiled at him. “I wish you happiness, Wyatt. And I’m so glad Calliope forced us into this. I hope we can work on being friends someday. Maybe even…in-laws?”
He smiled back at her and walked her out.
Now he needed to go find Calliope, because he had a few more apologies to make, this time to the woman who really had his heart.
Chapter Eleven
Calliope paced on the back steps of the hotel, switching from angry to hurt back to angry again, then tossing in worry and angst for good measure.
Her stomach was a ball of knots. She could use her best friend and a tall margarita right now, but Tori was otherwise occupied somewhere with Brody. She made a mental note to call her tomorrow for a full recap of what that kiss had been all about.
She was going to give Wyatt another half hour—mainly because she was freezing her ass off out here—but also because he needed to cool off and so did she before they talked again.
“You didn’t leave.”
Her head shot up at the sound of his voice. He was standing at the top of the stairs.
“You’re not wearing a jacket,” she said.
“What?”
“It’s freezing out here. Where’s your coat?”
“Inside.”
“Then let’s go inside before you freeze to death.”
“Calliope. Aren’t you mad at me?”
“Furious. But I don’t want you to get sick and it’s cold out here. I’ll yell at you inside.”
He shook his head and helped her up the stairs and inside.
“Where would you like me to yell at you?”
He punched the elevator button and they rode up in silence to the penthouse floor. She noted the floor, but otherwise stayed silent, figuring she’d have plenty to say when they got to wherever they were going.
When he pulled out a key card and slid it into the penthouse suite’s door, she turned to him. “Really?”
“Yeah. Figured we’d live it up tonight.”
“Huh.” He pushed the door open and held it while she walked in. When he flipped the switch, she resisted the urge to gasp.
The room was opulent. She’d always wondered about the penthouse suite at this hotel. Now she didn’t have to wonder anymore. It was lavish, decorated in creams and blacks, with marble flooring, floor-to-ceiling windows and more square footage than her entire house.
“Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you,” she said, pulling off her coat and laying it over a chair. As she rubbed her chilled hands together, she walked to the window, surveying her entire town in one sweep. Beautiful.
But she wasn’t here to enjoy the view, so she turned to face him.
“I know I meddled, that you asked me not to contact Cassie and have the two of you meet. But here’s the problem, Wyatt. I love you. And you’re never going to be whole until the past is firmly in the past where it belongs. And maybe I don’t do things the right way all the time, but I’ll always have your back. I’ll always want what’s best for you. So you know what? What’s best for you is me.”
“You’re right.”
She pause her train of thought. “What?”
“You’re right. About all of it. I did need to talk to Cassandra. We both needed to exorcise the past. We both did things that were wrong, but I was the worst. I had it in my head that she was the enemy, and all this time I carried this giant grudge. She wasn’t the enemy. She was just the wrong woman for me.”
“You talked to her.”
“Yes. It’s over for good now. We mended fences.”
Some of the tension dissolved and she dropped her shoulders. “Oh. Well, I’m glad. Better now?”
He came toward her. “A lot better. I feel light now, Calliope. Like a weight was lifted off me.”
She nodded. “Good.”
He picked up her hands, slid his thumbs over them. “The past is gone now. All I want to think about is the future. The only person in my future is you.”
Her heart squeezed.
“I love you, Calliope.”
“I love you too, Wyatt.”
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I’m probably going to say I’m sorry a lot over the next fifty or sixty years, so get used to it.”
Her heart did a little song and dance, fluttering in her chest. “Okay.”
He dropped to his knee. “I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you. A lot of kids. I want you to move into my big house that you fell in love with, and raise those kids with me there. I like dogs. Do you like dogs?”
She swiped at the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “I love dogs.”
“Good. Will you marry me?”
“Yes. Of course. Yes.”
He stood and pulled her into his arms, kissed her in that way that never failed to make her feel a little bit faint.
“I love you, Wyatt. I want to marry you. I want to make babies with you—FYI, as soon as humanly possible. I want as many dogs as you can tolerate underfoot—kids too, for that matter. I’m yours.”
He smoothed his hand over her hair, her face, her lips. “You are the rarest gift. I’m a very lucky man to have found you, and it isn’t even Christmas yet.”
She gave him a wicked smile. “No, but you might be getting your gift early. Wait ’til you see what I’m wearing under this dress.”
He reached for the zipper in back of the dress and pulled it down. “Now that’s a challenge I accept.”
Her skin broke out in goose bumps, her body flaming to his touch. Her dress unzipped, he drew it off her shoulders and let it pool at her feet. She stepped out of it, and Wyatt’s eyes widened.
“Merry Christmas to me,” he said, his eyes roaming appreciatively over her body.
She’d splurged on a fire-engine-red, lace-and-satin thong with a matching demi-bra that barely contained her breasts. With her shoes still on, she knew she looked like a wicked temptress. She felt like one. And when she dropped to her knees to undo Wyatt’s belt buckle, he let out a litany of curses that only served to drive her arousal to danger levels.
He kicked off his shoes while she unzipped and removed his pants and boxer briefs, then took his shaft in her hand and stroked it before taking him in her mouth to show him how much she loved every part of him.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, removing the clip she’d put her hair up with earlier. He wound his hand around her hair and held her while she engulfed him, taking him in deep, until he let out a low groan and pulled her to a standing position and swept her into his arms.
“When I come, it’s going to be inside you.”
“Without a condom,” she said as he laid her on the bed.
“You would risk me knocking you up before we’re married?” he asked, his expression one of mock horror.
She laughed. “Well, I am still on the pill, but you did catch the ASAP part of my speech about kids, didn’t you?”
He drew her panties off, his eyes gleaming with heated desire. “Yeah, ASAP works for me, too. In more ways than one.”
He crawled between her legs, spread them and put his mouth on her. She bit down on her lip to keep from screaming as he used his tongue to take her right to the peak, and then over. When he moved up her body and entered her, he cupped her butt, lifted her against him and took her right to the edge again with slow and easy strokes.
“I love you,” he whispered as he brushed his lips across hers, using his mouth and his body to take her so close she thought she’d die from the sweet pleasure of it.
She rubbed her palm against the quickly growing stubble of his beard. “I love you too.” She wrapped her legs around him and brought him home, and when they both came together, she couldn’t think of a more perfect way to cement their love.
After, he held her against him and she listened to the sound of his heart beating against her ear.
“You really want kids right away?” he asked.
She lifted her head and turned over onto her belly to look at him. “I do. Do you want to wait?”
“No. I’ve waited my whole life for you. For this. I want to get married right away. How soon can you do that thing that women do?”
She arched a brow. “That thing that women do?”
“You know. The whole putting together a wedding thing.”
She laughed. “Oh. I don’t know. Six months?”
“So I have to wait six months to get you pregnant?”
“Hey, pregnant brides are the new black, you know.”
“Huh?”
“In other words, knock me up, stud. I’m ready.”
He rolled her over onto her back. “Have I ever mentioned I take direction really well?”
“Now who’s the rare gift?” she asked with a laugh.
But that laughter turned into something else as he kissed her, and they got down to the business of making their future.
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Jaci Burton lives in Oklahoma and spends a fair amount of time on the back of her husband’s Harley, where she often gets lost plotting her next story as the warm (and sometimes cold) breeze whips her face. She loves reality television, is a sucker for romantic comedies, and completely loses track of time when reading a great book. She’s a total romantic and longs for the happily ever after in every story, which you’ll find in all her books.
Jaci has won the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award and has been a finalist in the National Readers’ Choice Awards and Bookseller’s Best Awards. She writes contemporary romance, erotic romance and romantic suspense, writing in the genres she loves to read.
You can find Jaci on the web at www.jaciburton.com, on Twitter at www.twitter.com/jaciburton and on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/jaci.burton.
It’s Not Christmas Without You
HelenKay Dimon
It’s Not Christmas Without You
By HelenKay Dimon
Carrie Anders officially broke up with Austin Thomas when she accepted a dream job in the city. Unofficially, she misses him and is tempted to sneak back to her West Virginia hometown to see him. That’s why this year, she’s not going home for the holidays. Her heart can’t take any more mornings-after where nothing has changed—and Austin has made it clear he’s not interested in relocating.
Austin’s been waiting for Carrie to realize she can’t live without him. But when he hears she’s not coming home for Christmas, he decides to take action. If Carrie won’t come to the country, he’s going to bring a piece of the country to Carrie—in the form of a Christmas tree lot just minutes from her apartment. He’s certain daily meetings will entice her to come home with him, this time for good.
Their attraction is as hot as ever, but with such contrary Christmas wishes, can either of them get what they really want this year?
28,000 words
Dedication
To Melissa Thomas-Van Gundy for stepping in during national disasters, fighting fires, getting your doctorate and conserving our nation’s forests, but mostly for being a dear friend who helped me survive high school.
Chapter One
Carrie Anders loved Christmas. The lights, the cookies, the holiday spirit, the cookies, the carols…the cookies. She’d spent every holiday of the last twenty-six years in Holloway, West Virginia, the small town a few miles from the Maryland border where she grew up and her parents and brother still lived. She planned on breaking her streak by staying in Washington, D.C., this year.
No big family dinner. No week off. Just one day at home in her tiny apartment before heading back to her shift at the museum. Though she loved the job, the idea of working over the holidays made her grumpy to the point of sneering. But keeping busy meant keeping her mind off the man she missed more each day instead of less.
That w
hole absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder thing? Yeah, that wasn’t her experience. Not if the constant dull ache in her chest was an indication. After months away from home, and him, she still felt the pull. She’d read all about eternal longing in books and thought it sounded dramatic. Now she lived it.
She’d be in a meeting or even brushing her teeth and her mind would wander back to the man who’d grabbed her heart when he was still a long-haired boy driving a muscle car. Good thing her mom had shipped two tins of sugar cookies for early holiday taste testing. They took her mind off everything else…for a second or two. Only broken edges remained, but Carrie kept eating. She may even have licked her finger then crunched it against the crumbs for a snack.
Rather than mope in a sea of cookie dust and dwell on that whole broken-heart thing, she buttoned her peacoat and went downstairs for some fresh Sunday air. Standing in the lobby of her apartment building, she stared at the empty lot across the street. Make that the formerly empty lot.
The corner at the end of the Whitehurst Freeway that separated the Foggy Bottom area of Washington, D.C., from its wealthy neighbor Georgetown now housed what looked like a misplaced forest. Hundreds of soon-to-be Christmas trees lined the small strip of grass usually reserved for resident dog walking. Something about the combination of dog poo and Christmas trees fit with her feelings about the holiday this year.
A string of white lights clipped to beams outlined the space in a square. A building about the size of a shed sat at the end closest to the street. As she watched, a man grabbed the trees from the stacks one-by-one and staked them upright.
Despite the chill and last night’s dusting of snow, he wore faded blue jeans and a half-tucked-in flannel shirt. His only nod to the weather was the combination of work boots and gloves, and those likely had more to do with the way he was throwing six-foot trees around than the icy air.
