The Sugar Cookie Sweetheart Swap

by Kauffman, Donna; Angell, Kate; Kincaid, Kimberly

  His mom’s voice was faint, disjointed, sounding as if she were clear around the world and not ninety miles away.

  She cried with relief upon hearing from him. He was brief and exact with his explanation; afraid he’d be cut off before he could finish telling her what had happened to him. He promised to come home as quickly as he could make arrangements to do so. He then disconnected.

  It was decision time, he thought. He hated to leave Abby, but he had family commitments. Commitments made a year in advance. He couldn’t immediately take Abby with him, but perhaps she could follow at a later date. He had a lot to figure out. He didn’t want to leave her for long.

  A head bump to his calf lowered his gaze to Tennyson. Lander would bet the old boy was hungry. Tenn had slept the afternoon and night away on the tree skirt. Lander figured the flannel was warm.

  “Hungry?” he asked the cat.

  The calico’s purring indicated food would be good.

  They walked back to the kitchen with Tenn weaving between his feet. For an elderly cat, he was pretty fast moving when it came to his meals.

  Lander located a can of shredded tuna and chicken. It had a pop-top and came off easily. He smiled; the cat sounded like a buzz saw. He put the food on a paper plate and Tenn dug in. He ate as if he hadn’t seen food in a week. Apparently a long night’s sleep had given him quite an appetite.

  Lander hunkered down beside the calico. In a low voice, he said, “Take care of Abby while I’m gone, big guy. I like her a lot and don’t want her feeling left behind.”

  Tenn paused in his eating, and gave Lander as reassuring a look as an eighteen-year-old scruffy cat could give. His whiskers twitched, and he returned to his breakfast.

  Lander stood back up. Glancing around the kitchen, he decided it was his turn to make Abby breakfast. She had a toaster, and he found a half a loaf of rye in the breadbox. He then scooped Santa’s Helper into her coffee maker. He found a selection of homemade jams and jellies in the cupboard. He went with blackberry preserves.

  Once their meal was prepared, he carried two paper plates and two steaming mugs to the coffee table. The scent of coffee swirled on the air, and Abby blinked herself awake. She gave him a soft smile and said, “Breakfast on the couch, lucky me.”

  She sat up, but didn’t bother to get dressed. Instead she tucked the quilt over her breasts and between her thighs. Lander passed her a cup of coffee, and then settled down beside her. He sipped along with her, his lips pursed. He’d yet to develop a taste for the strong brew.

  Abby eyed the bubble lights. “I see the electricity’s returned,” she said between bites of toast. He heard the slight catch in her voice. They both knew he’d be on his way very soon.

  “I have cell service,” he told her.

  “Let me try my phone.” She retrieved her own cell off the coffee table and checked for messages. “I have a text from Shane Griffin from Grady’s Garage. He’s the man I called from the site of your accident.” She paused, read on. “Shane has towed your Mercedes to his garage. He’s assessed the damage. Sadly, your car is totaled.” Her voice sounded sympathetic. “Once you contact him, he’ll pick you up and drive you into town whenever you’re ready to arrange transportation.”

  “I’ll get with him this morning, but I won’t leave until tomorrow,” Lander decided. “I want to spend another day with you, Abby.”

  “You do?” She looked surprised, but pleased.

  “I’m not ready to leave.”

  “I’m not ready for you to go, either.”

  He was glad she felt the same way. “How close is your nearest grocery store?” he asked.

  “Two miles down the mountain,” she said. “Ridgeway’s General carries the basics.”

  He finished off his coffee, then asked, “Will the store have the ingredients to make your gingerbread men?”

  Abby nodded. “It should. I have an order to fill for that bachelorette party in Las Vegas. I’d planned to start baking the moment I had electricity.”

  “How soon before the snow plows reach us?” he wanted to know.

  “Lights are on, so I’m guessing a few hours. Snow removal is down to a science in Pine Mountain.”

  “Let’s plan our day,” he suggested. He was a man of organization. “A shower is in order, and I hope you’ll join me.”

  “The water will be cold,” she warned him. “The cabin has a large hot water tank. It won’t warm immediately.”

  “We’ll raise goose bumps together.” She shivered at his thought. Sexual chills were good. A fast shower with Abby was better than any prolonged hot shower alone.

  “After we clean up, I was going to challenge you to a game of Naked Scrabble while we wait for the snow plows.”

  “Naked Scrabble?” She nearly spewed her coffee.

  He grinned. “Naked adds challenge to the game.”

  “I’m sure it will,” she agreed. “Once the plows clear a path, I’ll drive down to the store and pick up what we need. You’re welcome to come with me, if you like.”

  Lander debated. “What about mountain gossip?” he asked. “I imagine word would spread if you were seen with an unknown man.”

  “You’re worried about my reputation?” She was touched by his concern.

  He ran his hand down his face. “What we’ve shared is between us, not anyone else,” he said with conviction. “I don’t want whispers to take away from our time together.”

  “I understand,” she said, “although Shane already knows you’re at my cabin. He’s a good man, and wouldn’t start or spread rumors.”

  “Let’s fly under the town’s radar as long as we can,” he said. “You’ll get the needed ingredients for the cookies, and I’ll help you bake and decorate them.” He raised a brow. “Any chance we could make a few gingerbread women?”

  “For your eating pleasure?” she kidded him.

  “I would never object to you munching on a G-man.”

  “Licking, Lander,” she corrected, giving him a sexy smile. “It’s the best way to savor a peppermint stick.”

  He was hard in a heartbeat.

  She set her mug and plate back on the coffee table, then crooked her finger and said, “It’s shower time.”

  She rose off the sofa, and he was right on her heels. In his hurry, he accidentally stepped on one corner of the quilt that she’d wrapped around her. The patterned fabric loosened and shimmied down her body. The sight of her curves made his sex throb and his testicles tighten.

  She walked into her downstairs bathroom, and he was out of his clothes before she’d turned on the water. She shrieked when he tucked her close and lifted her into the shower.

  The spray pierced them both, as if they were being stabbed by icicles. Perhaps a cold shower wasn’t his greatest idea, he mused, seconds later as he watched Abby hop up and down, favoring her sore toe, and shivering.

  The water sluiced over her shoulders and her nipples hardened. He was surprised his sex hadn’t shrunk. He apparently wanted Abby, even if they froze together like two halves of a popsicle.

  She threw her arms about him, as if his cold body could warm hers. He was afraid he wasn’t giving off much heat. She didn’t seem to mind.

  “Raspberry crème is both shampoo and shower gel,” she said, removing a bottle from the bath caddy and pouring a small amount onto an organic sponge.

  She scrubbed him head to toe. She worked quickly but thoroughly, touching, stroking, before taking a long moment to admire his groin. How he stayed hard was beyond Lander. Her gaze was so hot that he swore the water had begun to heat.

  Then it was his turn to touch her. He added a bit more raspberry crème to the sponge, then washed her every curve. She went from hopping on one foot to becoming perfectly still as he appreciated the soft slope of her shoulders, the fullness of her breasts, and the soapy slickness of her sex. He inserted one finger between her folds, and he felt her clench. It would take so very little to bring her to orgasm. But not here beneath a spray that was as cold
as rolling naked in the snow.

  He switched off the valve and they stepped from the shower. She trembled as he toweled her dry. He threw back his head and closed his eyes when she next rubbed him down. She spent an inordinately long time drying his penis.

  With his own sexual purpose, he eased her back until her bottom bumped the countertop by the sink. He didn’t have a condom, but he had other ways to please her.

  He went down on one knee, and gazed up at her.

  Her eyes were wide and full of want.

  The pulse at the base of her throat was visibly fast. Her breathing was uneven.

  A heightened pink stained her cheeks, the flush moving to her upper chest.

  He felt her up and kissed her down. Her nipples peaked beneath the flick of his tongue. He kissed along her rib cage, over her hip bone, then went on to tongue her navel.

  He moved between her legs, nibbling the inside of her thighs. He traced the tender skin nearest her sex, then slowly slid a finger inside her.

  She was wet for him.

  The temperature of her body rose, and he felt her woman’s heat. He wanted to taste her. She stilled, then opened to him. He sucked, teased, and controlled her pleasure. She sighed, closed her eyes, and let him claim her.

  “Lander,” her voice shook on a panting whisper.

  She curved her hands on the edge of the countertop, clung tightly, climbing toward her climax.

  He clutched her hips. Tongued her even deeper.

  She gave way, and came with satisfying force. Her moan rose from deep within her. Her knees started to buckle, and she was suddenly boneless. Lander pushed to his feet, drew her close, and let her lean on him. She seemed to sift inside him, all the way to his soul.

  Kissing her lightly on the forehead, he eventually asked, “How about that game of Naked Scrabble now?”

  “Or I could satisfy you.”

  He gazed into her warm brown eyes and was amazed by the depth of emotion he felt for this woman. The simplicity of holding her satisfied him as much as having sex. His feelings for her were strong and powerful, and what he believed to be long lasting, yet only time would tell.

  “Scrabble can be arousing,” he said, contemplating the rules. “We can have our own point system with each word. A kiss for placing letters on Premium Squares. A touch for double or triple letter values. Sex for the winner.”

  Abby laughed at him. “We both win if sex is the final prize.”

  “Let’s go win that orgasm.” He took her hand, led her toward the living room.

  Naked Scrabble was Lander’s undoing. Abby’s nudity was a total distraction. How could he form words when he couldn’t think straight? Abby played well, racking up points, and running away with the game.

  The time soon came when she let him know what she thought of his skills. Crossing her arms over her full breasts, she accused, “You’re a smart man, Lander, but I’m wise to your moves. You added a y to ‘hand,’ when you could’ve gone with ‘handsome,’ ‘handful,’ ‘handicap’. . .”

  Busted, he inwardly grinned. She saw through him. He was letting her win by playing short, going with easy words while she went with the more difficult. She’d either kissed or touched him with every move. He’d never enjoyed Scrabble more.

  He glanced at their scores, tallied on a yellow legal pad. “You’re so far ahead of me, I’ll never catch up,” he said, more than willing to have her win.

  “Do you concede?” she asked. The cloth bag that held the tiles was empty. Abby had only one letter left while he sat with six. He cheated, sneaking a peek at her final tile. An s, which could be used anywhere on the board, while he sat with f, j, x, y, and z. “Ox” appeared his only word.

  He held up his hands, palms out. “You win, Abs.”

  “I can have my way with you?”

  “Any way you want me.” He boxed the tiles and board.

  She climbed onto his lap, fitted him with the last condom, and took him so slowly his nostrils flared and his jaw locked. The corners of his mouth pinched in pleasure and pain. He was barely able to draw breath.

  She closed her eyes when he worked his hand between them. Stroking her until she reached the edge. He held her there until the heat of the moment overtook them both.

  They dissolved in sensual satisfaction.

  Abby snuggled with Lander as they came down from their sexual high. She straddled him still. Her cheek rested on his shoulder. Her gaze was shuttered. He breathed in the raspberry crème scent of her hair, then nuzzled her neck. He placed a kiss at the soft spot beneath her ear.

  He glanced toward the fireplace, and found the flames burned low. He debated adding another log, but decided that between the two of them, they generated enough heat to stay warm. Together they raised the temperature in the room by ten degrees.

  Tennyson had eaten, and found his way back to the flannel skirt beneath the Christmas tree. He now stretched out, comfortable and content. Lander liked hearing him snore.

  He also enjoyed holding Abby. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and their bellies brushed. He was still semi-erect and sliding out of her slowly. He would be ready to take her again in a matter of minutes. She gave him a permanent erection. Despite his lack of condoms, they could still be creative.

  A moment later, a rumble shook the mountain like an earthquake. Abby sat up and listened intently. Sadness shone in her eyes for several seconds before she grabbed the quilt and drew it to her breast.

  “Snow plows,” she said, recognizing the sound. “The crew is running ahead of schedule.”

  She pushed up on her knees, and eased from his lap. Sliding off the sofa, she scooted down the hallway. “I’m getting dressed,” she shot over her shoulder.

  He pulled on his wrinkled and worn white shirt and black slacks. He walked to the window and watched as the two plows shoved the snow aside, clearing the road. The drifts rose ten feet high. One of the removal vehicles turned into Abby’s driveway, forging space for her to back her SUV from the garage.

  Lander stepped away from the window, preferring no one saw him. He didn’t want any embarrassment to come to Abby. Should someone see him at her cabin, it would be natural to assume they’d done more than play Scrabble. He’d let her be the one to spin her own holiday tale. If she even chose to mention him.

  She returned to the living room, dressed warmly to face the elements. She wore both a cream-colored sweater and a shearling vest. Her brown corduroys were loose and lived-in. He found her knee-high boots sexy.

  She grabbed her winter jacket off the hook, then turned to him. “I need to thank the crew,” she said. “I’ll follow them down the mountain to the store.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “This might be a good time for you to call Shane Griffin at the garage.” She gave him the mechanic’s number from memory. Her voice caught on the last digit, as if saying it brought their time to an end. He felt much the same.

  She came to him before she left. Rising on tiptoe, she kissed him full on the mouth. “Miss me while I’m gone?” she asked.

  “I missed you the moment you left my lap,” he said honestly.

  She smiled, kissed him again, and was gone.

  He heard the door open then close, and was relieved when her engine turned over. The garage door lifted, and he moved to the window and watched her drive away. The snow plows roared ahead of her. Her windshield wipers swished. He saw her wave, and he waved back. Her smile was small, forced.

  His heart felt heavy. She would return with her baking supplies. They’d make erotic gingerbread men and women, then—what? Have a final night together before he headed out the next morning.

  He hung his head. Time sifted through his fingers, faster now as his departure neared. He would be gone in twenty-four hours. The pain in his side seemed minimal compared to the ache about his heart. Abby had gotten to him.

  He returned to the couch, waited out her return. Tennyson woke in the middle of a snore, startling himself. The calico padded across the floor, and attemp
ted to jump onto the couch. Lander saw he wasn’t going to make it, and gave Tenn a boost. The calico made himself at home, settling beside Lander, resting his head on Lander’s knee.

  For the first time, Lander noticed a small basket of magazines situated beneath the coffee table. He reached for a People magazine, fanned the pages, and got the Hollywood scoop. Abby Denton, he read her name off the address label. He peeled off the label and put it in his pocket, in case he needed her location at a later date.

  He had one phone call he wanted to make before Abby returned. He took a deep breath and called Shane Griffin. The mechanic seemed to be a nice guy; accommodating, too. He offered to pick up Lander the following morning, so Abby wouldn’t have to drive him into town. Lander agreed. He preferred to keep his relationship with Abby low-key. Until they became an official couple.

  She showed up a short time later, and he met her at the side door to the garage. She was loaded down with groceries. He took three of the four paper bags from her.

  “Did you buy out the store?” he asked, eyeing the contents.

  “Ridgeway’s was crowded,” she told him. “People are digging out after the blizzard. I got roped into more than one conversation.”

  She paused, glanced at him, and grinned. “The owner of the store told me I had a ‘holiday glow.’ ” She used air quotes.

  “Blizzard sex will put color in your cheeks.”

  Abby blushed, but agreed. “I bought everything I needed for the gingerbread cookies,” she said, as she unpacked the paper sacks. Once the first sack was empty, she dropped it on the floor.

  Lander raised an eyebrow, and she explained, “A toy for Tennyson when he wakes up.”

  She moved about the kitchen now, locating a mixing bowl, measuring cups and spoons. “I’ll put the recipe together, then set the dough in the refrigerator for two hours. Sometimes I leave it overnight, but since I have limited time, I’ll need to bake and decorate today, then pack and mail the cookies in the morning.”

  “How can I help you, Abby?” he asked.