Home For the Holidays

by Lisa Plumley

  Angela only hoped the same tactics would work on the man she was really interested in.

  “Nate, come inside.” She put her hand on his arm, urging him to come with her. “It’s too cold and too early to be standing outside on the front walk talking about this.”

  “But I—” Visibly, he gulped. “That’s why you were frowning? Because it’s cold and early? Not because…of anything else?”

  Aww. He looked adorable to her, all bundled up and handsome and earnest. Despite the fact that he’d tried to bust up her date with Billy last night, that was one of the things Angela loved most about Nate—his sincerity. She could always depend on him to tell her the truth. To be there for her no matter what.

  Even when he was (theoretically) chasing his dream girl.

  “Why else would I be frowning?” she asked.

  “Um…because I said I wanted to make you happy?”

  Right. Well, technically, hearing Nate say that had made her heart stop for a second. In fact, her knees still felt sort of wobbly. It had been so romantic and so perfect.

  I want to be the best in the whole world at making you happy, Angela.

  No one had ever said such a thing to her. Not even Bryce.

  Especially not Bryce, come to think of it, which probably made it just as well that he wasn’t around to influence Kayla.

  But that didn’t matter now. Because Angela had already vowed to choose a better man next time. She’d promised herself she would not run into the arms of the first guy who asked her to be with him. So rather than joyously confess that she wanted to make Nate happy, too, that she had (in fact) waited months (if not years) for him to come around and realize how perfect they were for each other, Angela only smiled at him.

  “Don’t be silly, Nate.” With as much nonchalance as she could, she patted his arm. “Honestly, it’s freezing out here. Come inside.”

  Nate did, still clutching his cardboard box.

  While Angela shucked her coat and changed out of her winter boots, Nate gave Kayla a hello hug and a tickle. Then he glanced warily from side to side as if expecting to see naked men sprouting from behind the sofa, the Christmas tree, the Advent calendar…the bedroom. Angela stifled a grin as they headed, as usual, for the kitchen. She poured them both coffee (hers with cream only, his a sugary black), then handed a cup to Nate.

  Their fingers touched. Angela would have sworn sparks shot between them, jolting them both. She glanced up from their hands, met his gaze…and felt a fresh charge rock her all the way to the toes of her baby blue pom-pom slippers. She wanted to kiss him. Wanted to hug him. Wanted to find out what the big Natearooni was up to today. And Nate could probably tell.

  With her, he always could.

  She had to be strong. Deliberately, Angela shifted her gaze away, then pursed her lips. “So what’s in the box?”

  “Hopefully…the future.”

  That got her. Especially given some of the scenarios she’d imagined them sharing. Coolly, she asked, “Really? The future?”

  “That’s right. Check it out.” Looking as nervous as he had just before he’d ridden the Top Thrill Dragster at Cedar Point last summer, Nate slugged down some coffee, then shed his coat. And his hat. And his right glove. And his left. “Ready?”

  “Whenever you’re done with the striptease, big boy.”

  Nate paused in the midst of yanking off his scarf. His gaze met hers again. Striptease floated in the air between them, making Angela imagine Nate in the midst of a holiday-themed bump-and-grind routine, grinning as he peeled off his MSU sweatshirt, shucked his plain white tee, then slowly unzipped his fly and pulled down his jeans, inch by mesmerizing inch…just for her.

  He wore old-fashioned boxers, she knew (because of the few times his washing machine had been on the fritz and she’d let him do laundry at her place), which should have been geezerish but was actually kind of mysterious and sexy. Unlikely but lovable. In fact, all of Nate could be categorized that way.

  Unlikely but lovable. At least to her.

  Nate wasn’t the most brilliant guy in the world, but he was kindhearted and strong. He wasn’t the most clever or the most witty, but he was fun and reliable and honorable. And if he could ever get over his Rachel Porter fixation…

  Well, Angela knew that would happen eventually. After all, Rachel wasn’t interested in Nate (a fact she’d totally given away with the dreamy way she looked at Reno). But until Nate realized the same thing, all bets were off. Darn it.

  Angela could have enlightened Nate about his zero-to-zero chances of scoring with his California dream girl. But that might have hurt him, and she wasn’t willing to do that. She was a patient person. She could wait a little longer.

  Just…a little…longer.

  “Striptease, huh?” He squinted at her as he dropped his scarf on the chair. “Something’s different about you today.”

  “Dating changes a person.” Angela waved her arm in what she hoped was a worldly fashion. “Meeting new people exposes you to new ideas. You discover things you never thought you’d like.”

  “New people. Right.” Nate gritted his teeth. A vein throbbed in his forehead. “Back to the box. Take a look.”

  He flipped open the flaps. Then, appearing kind of green, he stepped back so she could see. Feeling strangely nervous herself, agog with eagerness to glimpse the future Nate had apparently envisioned for them both, Angela peered in.

  Hmmm. That wasn’t what she’d expected.

  She didn’t quite get the connection. Still, at the sight of the items in the box, she almost forgot everything else.

  “Oh my God.” Her disbelieving gaze flew to his. Automatically her hand went to her chest. “Are these authentic?”

  “You bet your ass they’re authentic.”

  “Nate. Language.”

  “Sorry.” He glanced to the living room, where Kayla’s cartoons still blared. “Yes, they’re real.”

  Eyes wide, she bit her lip. “Can I touch one?”

  He nodded, tiny beads of sweat on his temples.

  Carefully, Angela reached into the box, easing away the archival tissue paper surrounding the items. Awed, she lifted the uppermost one—an elaborate puppet of a reindeer.

  Even somewhat tattered, it was instantly familiar to her. Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer—The Rankin/Bass TV special—might have debuted more than a decade before she was born, but Angela had watched it religiously all the same. So had Kayla. They’d TiVoed it to watch together this year, too.

  “My grandmother worked at Rankin/Bass in the seventies,” Nate explained. “She bought these puppets from the company, then later she gave them to me. She said I was the only one in the family who’d really appreciate them.”

  Angela’s questioning gaze met his.

  “When I was a kid, I really, really loved that TV special.” Nate’s ears turned pink. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, my nana was a smart woman. She planned ahead—we Kellys have always been planners. See? There’s even an affidavit in there to confirm the puppets’ provenance as original production items.”

  Angela couldn’t believe it. “Do you mean to tell me that you’ve watched Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer with me and Kayla every year and never said anything? Anything?”

  Nate shrugged. “I didn’t plan to unpack them. Exposure to air ruins delicate items. I learned that from a library book.”

  “Anything?” Angela repeated.

  “I’m saying something now.” He drew in a breath. “Except for my family, you’re the only one who knows about these.”

  Setting aside the mind-boggling fact that Nate had actually kept a secret from her, Angela explored Rudolph. She turned him this way and that, then pulled. “Look, he really moves!”

  In amazement, she glanced up. Nate nodded.

  “That’s one way you can tell that’s an original production design and not just a toy or a replica.” Proudly, he touched Santa’s beard and red suit. “They’re really elaborate. They were designed and made in J
apan—by hand, if you can believe it.”

  “Wow,” Angela marveled, stroking Rudolph’s head. “I can’t believe you never told me about these.”

  “Well, they’re kind of my nest egg. In case of emergency, like Nana intended. I didn’t expect to ever cash them out.”

  “Cash them out?” Stricken, Angela hugged Rudolph. It was like holding a piece of her childhood. Those stop-motion animations had seemed so real to her as a kid, she’d been sure Rudolph was really alive. “You’re going to cash them out?”

  “Yep.” Nate gave a hearty nod, then knocked back more coffee. “It’s the only way I can afford…something special.”

  Puzzled, she stared at him. Then realization dawned, as cold as the icicles and snow outside. The future. He didn’t mean the future between him and her! He meant…

  “You’re going to buy something fancy for Rachel Porter, aren’t you?”

  Nate didn’t say a word. But his guilty, shoulder-hunching response told her all she needed to know.

  Angela couldn’t believe she’d been so gullible. While she’d been swooning over Nate’s speech about being the best in the whole world at making her happy, he’d been plotting to get her help in selling out—all for the sake of impressing his dream girl! Obviously, he’d just been buttering her up in order to get her help. Next he’d be asking Angela to be Rachel’s standin to try on mink coats or something. Which was not only obnoxious, it was also ridiculous. Angela only wore “fun fur.” Period.

  Defensively, Nate rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t say what I’m going to buy with the money.”

  “You haven’t even actually met her yet, Nate!”

  “So?” Looking frustrated, Nate took Rudolph from her hands. With meticulous care, he returned the puppet to the box. “Look, all I want to know is if you’ll go to Grand Rapids with me. There’s a big holiday crafts fair going on there right now.”

  Sensing what was coming, Angela frowned at him.

  “I think I can get a good price from some of the collectors who’ll be there.” Absently, Nate straightened Santa’s tiny belt. He smiled fondly. “Christmas collectors, pop culture collectors, TV collectors—a lot of people would be interested in these puppets. I could sell the pair for eight or ten thousand easy.”

  “That’s crazy. You can’t put a price on Christmas!”

  Mulishly, Nate crossed his arms. “I think I just did.”

  “Well, I won’t be a part of it. No way.”

  “But I already asked your mom to babysit Kayla this weekend.” Nate’s whole body slumped. “I already booked us a hotel room!”

  “A…hotel room?” Angela glanced at him. Despite her indignation, a wholly imprudent sense of excitement unfurled inside her. It made her feel even more reckless than the night she’d allowed Perfect Patrick to give her that hickey in the backseat of his Aspire. She figured she might as well cut to the chase—fearlessly, the way Rachel Porter would have done. “How many beds does it have?”

  “How many…?” Nate’s expression made her heartbeat thud even more wildly. “It has one bed. One king-size bed.”

  One king-size bed. One! At the implications of that hotel reservation, Angela thought she might squee! like Kayla’s little pals did when they played together. Squee! Squee!

  “That was all they had available,” Nate explained, twisting his class ring. “Because of the crafts fair being in town. But I can sleep on the floor or something, so don’t worry about it.”

  Angela wasn’t worried about it. It was just like Nate to offer her an out…even if she didn’t want one.

  “You know, you don’t technically need a hotel reservation to visit Grand Rapids.” Ruthlessly, she tamped down the thrills coursing up her spine. “It’s less than an hour away.”

  “I know, but the crafts fair might take awhile. There’ll be haggling, visiting other booths, probably having dinner—”

  “And I don’t know what you need me there for. After all, I don’t know anything about the vintage collectibles market.”

  “Maybe not, but you’re smart, Angela.” Nate’s gaze pleaded with her. “You’re the smartest person I know. I need you there.”

  Something about his overly wide-eyed expression made her doubt the veracity of his story. She had a very strong feeling that Nate was hiding something—probably his big plans to woo Rachel Porter with a gaudy, ten-thousand-dollar Christmas gift. The jerk. And where did he get off calling her “smart” anyway?

  Just for an instant, Angela didn’t want to be smart. She wanted to be hot-to-trot, like Rachel Porter. She wanted to make men dance on tabletops and shake their bonbons on her command. She wanted to inspire men to buy her drinks and compete to sit next to her. She wanted…oh, who was she kidding?

  She just wanted Nate.

  “You really need me?” she asked.

  Somberly, he nodded. “More than you know.”

  “In that case…all right,” Angela replied. “I’ll go.”

  Because after all, time was running out. She had to make her move soon—this weekend—before Nate actually met Rachel Porter, dream girl, in person…and realized that next to Rachel, Angela looked about as sexy as Mary Poppins, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Betty Crocker, all rolled into one.

  On second thought, Nate would probably go for Betty Crocker, it occurred to her. They’d make chocolate fondue together or something. But Angela knew better than to push her luck. Now more than ever, she had to stick with her plan.

  She only hoped it had a snowball’s chance of succeeding.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Reno paused. “Just sex, huh?”

  For at least ten seconds, Rachel felt sure he was going to bring up her (very public) declaration of undying love at her Christmas party last night. As much as she’d truly felt it at that moment, and as much as she might feel the same things right now, Rachel didn’t want to complicate matters.

  “Mmmm.” Reno nodded as though considering her “just sex” stipulation, absorbed in watching his fingers sweep aside her dress to pluck at her beaded nipple. “Okay. Just sex. It’s probably better that way, given the circumstances.”

  He probably meant given the fact that she’d be leaving Kismet soon. Rachel could do nothing but nod, then gasp as his thumb nudged her in another sweet caress. “Good,” she managed, writhing helplessly beneath him. “I’m glad we agree.”

  “Right. Only sex.” More kisses. “That’s it.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Despite her stout nod and stated belief in her “just sex” philosophy, Rachel couldn’t prevent a surge of sheer joy as she finally gave herself permission to bring her hands to Reno’s shoulders. Heat touched her as she trailed her fingertips over his naked chest. Wow. He felt even better than he looked.

  The intense butterflies in her stomach didn’t mean anything. She didn’t have to be scared of this at all. Because this was really just quasi-vacation sex, Rachel assured herself—enjoyed beneath the multicolored glow of several strands of Christmas lights and sweetened with a little extra affection, sure, but straightforward vacation sex all the same. Everyone liked vacation sex. It was better than ordinary sex any day.

  Which didn’t fully explain why, when she cradled Reno’s face in her hands and brought his mouth to hers, it seemed as if she’d waited years for them to come together…years to feel this way. So free and complete and perfect all at once.

  But that was probably just leftover sentimentality, Rachel reasoned as she gazed in wonder at his face. A remnant of the holiday season. It didn’t have to mean anything that she’d already confessed her love for him. In public. From a tabletop.

  Even if—to her—it secretly did.

  Hiding that fact, she arched her hips upward, teasing her and Reno both as she savored the (increasingly) tight fit of his boxer briefs. “Mmmm. You feel amazing. But wouldn’t you be more comfortable if you got a little more…I don’t know. Naked?”

  Reno grinned. “Ladies first.”

  “I don’t
need to be invited twice.” Squirming upward, Rachel helped him peel off her dress, leaving her clad in her red thong underwear and her cute Christmas pedicure. She bit her lip, waiting as Reno’s heated gaze swept over her.

  His groan was gratifying. “Even better than I imagined.”

  “You imagined? Me? Naked?” She grinned, pretending to be shocked. “Scandalous.”

  “I imagined.” Intently, Reno stretched out beside her, all the better to caress his way from her shoulders to her toes in long, languid, exasperatingly slow strokes. “Reality is better.”

  “Then you should share the fun. Come here.” Rachel turned over, pushed him onto his back, then straddled him. With a triumphant smile, she thumbed the waistband of his strained boxer briefs. “I’ll just help you off with these.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I know. I’ve got just the strategy, too.”

  Filled with excitement, Rachel gave him another kiss, followed by a teeny-tiny tug. The movement bared a quarter inch of beautiful male skin from hipbone to hipbone, tantalizing her with the merest promise of everything still to come.

  Knee-walking her way carefully down the mattress, she held her breath and pulled a little farther.

  Below her, Reno moaned. Rachel stopped.

  She arched her brow. “Hmm? Is something wrong?”

  “Give…come…” His hooded gaze met hers, his mouth drawn with tension. “I want…” His hands rose to her. “You.”

  “Nope. This time it’s my turn.”

  “Not like this.” A low, guttural groan. “I need—”

  “Forget it.” Tantalizingly, Rachel revealed another quarter inch. His body throbbed in response. “I’m in charge now.”

  Reno laughed. An instant later, he closed his hands on her hips and flipped them both around, making the blankets billow.

  “Damn it! Do you always settle disagreements this way?”

  He made a face. “My accountant thinks it’s kind of weird when I jump him over a misappropriated tax credit, but—”

  “Very funny.” Panting, Rachel surveyed her (now ruined) progress in undressing him. “Obviously I’ve given you too much leeway. You clearly can’t stand waiting for anything.”