Anthology - The Night Before Christmas

by Foster, Mccarthy, Shalvis, Love, Garbera, Adams

  "They're on the lower level. Follow the signs for baggage claim, and you'll find them. Although I'm not sure there will be many cars available. A lot of travelers have opted to drive tonight rather than wait out the storm. Not a fun way to spend Christmas Eve."

  "No," he agreed. But then again, he never enjoyed Christmas Eve. Not for years anyway.

  "Thanks for your help." He nodded to the woman, then started out to the main concourse, following the signs.

  When he got to the lower level, he was surprised to see it was relatively deserted. Strange, given how many people were stranded tonight. He couldn't be the only one willing to risk driving in the storm.

  Then he realized several of the rental agencies were closed. He approached the desks, which held signs that said they were closed because they had no more rentals available.

  He walked farther down the hallway, noticing a man standing at a counter. As he approached, he saw it was a rental agency, and they were actually open.

  Hire a Heap.

  He grimaced. That didn't sound too promising, but at this point he couldn't be choosy, could he?

  "There you go," the clerk behind the counter said to the man, handing him a set of keys. "The last car. Good timing."

  "Thank you. And Merry Christ—"

  "You don't have any more cars?" Rob strode up to the counter, ignoring the fact that the other customer was still talking.

  The clerk, a young guy with a bad haircut and grease under his fingernails, shrugged. "That was the last one. Sorry."

  Great. Rob immediately turned to the other customer, who regarded him with a distinct look of annoyance. "I'll give you a hundred dollars for the car."

  The man, in his thirties with short-cropped blond hair and small, wire-rimmed glasses, immediately shook his head. "I have a wedding tomorrow in Portland. We have to get to Maine tonight."

  Rob frowned at the guy. Who the hell got married on Christmas Day? He started to ask as much when a voice behind him stopped his words cold.

  "Good, you didn't leave without me." The voice was light. He could tell the speaker was smiling even without seeing her.

  Rob remained still. He didn't move to look at her. He didn't need to. He knew that voice. That lilting voice was as familiar to him as the first notes of a favorite Christmas carol.

  But the man in front of him did look at the speaker and smiled broadly. "Of course we didn't leave you."

  "Thank goodness! Or I'd be spending my Christmas Eve sleeping on one of these airport benches." She laughed, the sound just as Rob remembered, brilliant and rich.

  His heart seized in his chest, and he struggled to take in a breath. Slowly, he managed to turn.

  She'd stopped at one of the benches nearby and was rooting around in her large satchel purse. Her face was in profile, but he could see the slight upturn of her small nose and the wide, lush set of her mouth.

  Damn, he'd loved that mouth. The way it turned up at the corners when she laughed. The way just one side quirked down when she was concentrating. The way it had felt against his, soft and velvety and warm.

  He forced his gaze away, trying to cast aside the memory of those lips pressed against his. Pressed to his skin. But try as he might, he couldn't keep his eyes off her.

  Her golden curls were pulled into a messy knot on top of her head, several tendrils escaping, caressing her cheeks and the neck of the red turtleneck sweater she was wearing. Her profile as beautiful as a delicately carved cameo.

  It was Erica. His Erica.

  Suddenly he was seeing her profile, not now, but from a night years earlier.

  The doorbell rang.

  He'd been pacing the worn braided rug in his parents' living-room, hoping, praying she wouldn't change her mind. That she would come like they had decided.

  He opened the door, and she stood on his front stoop, her profile illuminated by Christmas lights glittering off the falling snow.

  "You're here." He could hear the relief in his voice, but there was no reason to hide it. Erica knew how desperate he was for this night. He'd dreamed of this night. He burned for it.

  "Yes." She'd turned her hazel eyes on him and smiled. The red of her sweater brought out the pinkness in her cheeks and her mouth, making her more stunning, more beautiful.

  They had planned this night, knowing that their parents would both be attending the Cochrane's annual Christmas Eve party. Knowing that they would be alone all evening.

  Rob stepped closer to her, nervous and unsure. Unsure of everything except the fact that he loved Erica and he had to touch her.

  "Are you sure you're ready?"

  She nodded. He could see the certainty in her eyes. That certainty made him feel more confident. He pulled her against him, her breasts pressed tightly to his chest. The rapid beat of their hearts answered one another.

  There on his front doorstep, under the falling snow and the pristine quiet of Christmas Eve, he'd kissed her. He'd kissed her before, many times, but tonight was different. Tonight, their kiss felt perfect. It felt earth-shattering. Tonight, they were going to make love.

  Rob squeezed his eyes shut, both to block out the memory and the woman before him. When he opened them again, he half-expected Erica to be gone, like some apparition sent to torment him and then vanish.

  But Erica still stood before him, still rifling through her purse. Still unaware that he was there, his body wanting her as much as it had that Christmas Eve when they were both just seventeen.

  "It's here somewhere," she muttered.

  "Don't worry," said the man beside him, the man Rob had actually forgotten was there. "We can sort it out later."

  Erica started to lift her head, a smile on her lush lips intended for the man beside Rob. But at the last minute, several of the items that had been threatening to fall out of her purse did. She squatted down to pick the objects up.

  Rob turned his eyes to the man beside him. A nice looking guy. A guy who was on the receiving end of Erica's smiles. And a guy who was getting married tomorrow.

  Rob's gut clenched. Was this guy marrying Erica? Was he marrying the woman that Rob once thought he'd marry?

  "Donny, I don't want you to…"

  Rob stopped gaping at the man and turned back to Erica as he heard her sentence come to a sudden halt.

  She gaped at him, the items she'd dropped held forgotten in her hand. She blinked, perhaps thinking she was seeing a ghost, too.

  Finally, she managed to breathe. "Rob? Is that really you?"

  Chapter Two

  Erica knew she was gaping at him like an idiot, but she simply couldn't believe it. Rob. This was really Rob.

  "What are you doing here?" Then she immediately laughed at the silliness of her question. "Well, you're obviously getting a car. But are you heading to Maine?"

  "Trying," he said with a slight, wry smile. The small movement of his lips hinted at the dimple in his left cheek.

  The dimple. He'd been able to wrap her around his little finger by flashing that baby. She forced her gaze up to meet his. She'd forgotten how dark his eyes were, like strong, hot coffee.

  She took a few steps toward him, her first inclination to hug him. To touch him. To make sure he was real. Only his cool demeanor stopped her. But it didn't stop her eyes from eating up the sight of him. He looked more gorgeous than she remembered, than she could have imagined. Of course, she hadn't factored in the haircut that made his unruly waves look fashionably messy, or the stylish suit that fit his broad shoulders to a tee, or the fact that his eyes seemed even darker and more smoldering.

  Her gaze dropped to his sculpted lips. Did they taste the same? Had that changed? Her lips tingled at the thought of sampling his. She immediately forced her eyes back up to his unreadable gaze.

  "Erica, you know him?" Donny asked.

  "Yes, this is Rob." And she'd once known him better than anyone on the earth. But now, now he was little more than a distant acquaintance. In fact, she'd stopped really knowing him long before they'd actual
ly broken up. And they hadn't seen each other since.

  That had been … seven years ago. Seven years ago this very night.

  "Come back to Rhode Island with me." Erica reached over and pulled the book from Rob's hand. "Your classes don't start until a week after mine."

  He blinked up at her as though he barely recalled she was there. She ignored his indifferent attitude, snuggling against him on his parents' age-softened tweed sofa.

  "I already told you, I can't. I have to get ready for my classes. I have a heavy class load this semester."

  He had a heavy class load every semester. And he rarely came to see her at her school anymore, even though they were only an hour away from each other.

  "Couldn't you come for just a couple days? I miss you." She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear. "I miss having you all to myself."

  She glanced around to make sure his parents weren't nearby. Then she pressed an opened-mouth kiss to his neck and slipped a hand up under his shirt to stroke the hardness of his belly.

  He closed his eyes, his breath coming faster as her fingers teased over his skin, the tip of her finger dipping into his shallow belly button.

  "I can't, Erica." He caught her hand and removed it from under his shirt. "I need to stay focused. I need to keep my grades up."

  His rejection hurt and confused her. Although, over the past year, his brush-offs were becoming the norm. Just like his obsession with school.

  But she didn't tell him that, instead pointing out, "You always get all A's. You did in high school, and you do in college." She laughed, but the sound was filled with pride. She touched his cheek. "You're a genius."

  "No, I need to study," he insisted. "Some of us don't go to a school where they do arts and crafts all day."

  Erica shifted away from him, shock and hurt clenching her chest. "What do you mean by that?"

  "Exactly what I said. I need to work. I need to study. I can't slap some paint on a canvas and get an A."

  "Is that really what you think of my art? Of what I do?"

  Rob hesitated for a moment, then grabbed his book back from where she'd placed it on the coffee table. "You just need to understand that I have commitments. I have goals and dreams."

  "So do I. And those commitments and dreams and goals include you as well as my art."

  He grunted, stating very eloquently what he thought of her aspirations. He flipped open his book and started to read.

  She sat there for a moment, staring at him, seeing his familiar features. His dark, wayward locks, which she knew would curl around her fingers if she touched them. His face, which she knew as well as her own.

  But she didn't know Rob anymore. She didn't understand him.

  "Robby, you've changed," she finally said, hoping if the words were said out loud, he'd maybe recognize the truth and see the difference in himself.

  He looked up from his book. "You're right. I'm growing up."

  She knew that was another dig. "You are letting go of everything that was you. That made you alive and fun. Everything that made you smile and laugh. Everything you enjoyed and loved. All because you think only success matters."

  His eyes locked with hers, and for just the briefest moment, she thought she'd reached him.

  "You don't understand," he finally stated, his voice flat. "But if I am letting go of everything I loved, then I suppose it would make sense to let you go, too."

  His words shocked her to the core. "Are you?"

  He glanced down at his book, then back at her. "It might be for the best."

  Numbly, she rose from the sofa. She went to the front door, pulled on her boots and her parka. She looked back at Rob, but he wasn't looking at her. His brows were drawn together, his attention returned to the book in his hands. The Christmas tree lights colored the foil words on the cover. Investment Banking.

  She walked out of the Marstens' house, the heavy storm door slamming behind her.

  The memory of that sound and Donny's voice startled her out of her recollections.

  "So, are you going to Portland, too?"

  Rob stopped gazing at her and turned to Donny. "Yes, actually, I am."

  "You could catch a ride with us."

  Erica immediately stepped forward. "Is that such a good idea? I—I mean, the car is going to be pretty crowded with all our luggage and everything."

  Not to mention, she didn't know if she could handle being in the closed confines of a car with Rob for several hours. Her head might remember how he'd broken her heart all those years ago, but her body had no recollection of it whatsoever.

  Rob raised an eyebrow as if he knew exactly what her excuse had really been about.

  "There aren't any more cars available," Donny told her. "I think we can all crowd in."

  "Oh," Erica said, distressed—and a little excited at the same time.

  Donny cast a look around the lower level. "Alex should be back with those coffees. Let me go see if I can help. I'll be right back."

  Erica watched almost desperately as Donny disappeared up the escalator to find his friend.

  When she looked back, Rob was standing right next to her. So close she could feel the heat of his large body even through her sweater.

  "Surely, it isn't a big deal to give an old friend a ride home," he said, his deep voice like crushed velvet, brushing over her skin.

  "No. I—it's just… It's fine."

  "I won't tell him we were lovers."

  Erica frowned. Why would he tell Donny? She'd just met Donny and his significant other, Alex, today herself. They had been chatting while their plane was delayed, realized they were going to neighboring towns in Maine, and decided to travel together.

  "Okay," she finally said, having no idea how else to reply.

  "But maybe you should. After all, it's only fair to the guy to let him know you did intend to get married once before."

  "I don't really think he'd much care." She gave Rob a bewildered look. "But I suppose I could."

  Rob regarded her with those smoldering eyes. "He isn't the jealous type?"

  She started to reply that she didn't have any idea when he reached out and brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. His fingers grazed her cheek, just a faint whisper against her skin, but she felt the caress throughout her entire body, sizzling over her skin, bringing her blood to a sudden boil.

  A small gasp escaped her, and she gazed up at him, her eyes wide, startled, both by the fact that he'd touched her and by how she'd reacted to him.

  "Would he be jealous if he saw me touching you like this?" His voice was low and a little gruff as he cupped her cheek, his thumb making a slow, breath-stealing sweep over her lower lip. "Would he be angry if I kissed you?"

  Before she realized his intent, before she even deciphered his words, his mouth came over hers, moving over her lips, strong, coaxing.

  At first she didn't respond—couldn't. Shock held her frozen. Then his tongue teased the seam of her closed lips, hot and hungry, demanding a response. And she helplessly gave it to him, opening her mouth. His tongue darted in, mingling with hers.

  He tasted just as she remembered—like melted dark chocolate, sweet and sinful on her tongue. She moaned, deep in her throat, and opened her mouth wider to him.

  Lord, no one on earth kissed like Rob Marsten. No one made her feel like she was about to explode right there in his arms with nothing but his lips seducing her.

  She whimpered, overcome by the ache in her breasts, between her thighs. She had missed this, and she wanted more.

  Then suddenly, those lips and arms were gone.

  She gazed up at him with confusion. Her eyelids felt heavy, her vision unfocused. Her chest rose and fell in harsh pants.

  Gradually reality returned. And so had that cool, inscrutable expression Rob had worn when she first saw him. Aside from his breathing being a little uneven, Rob looked totally unaffected. The scorching heat that crackled over her nerve endings and in her veins iced over, leaving her cold and solitary
.

  She pressed her fingers to her lips, which no longer tingled. Now they only felt swollen and far too sensitive.

  Finally she whispered, "Why?"

  Why had he done this? She'd worked so hard to forget this man. All the attraction. All the need. And all the ache, both in her body and in her heart.

  And with one kiss, he'd brought it all back.

  Chapter Three

  Rob couldn't answer her. He didn't understand all the strong emotions churning within him. He prided himself on being a composed guy. A person who didn't raise his voice. Didn't lose his cool. He'd learned long ago that success required him to be focused and circumspect. He couldn't afford strong emotions distracting him from his goals.

  Yet from the moment his lips had touched hers, he wanted nothing more than to throw her on the floor and make love to her right there.

  He breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to calm the overwhelming need that was still chanting for him to go for it. Make love to her. Strip away her layers of clothes and touch the perfect golden skin that he knew lay beneath.

  No. He didn't lose control. He didn't. Not to mention the fact he was not the type of guy who touched, much less kissed, another man's woman. And Erica was now someone else's. His Erica was someone else's.

  A wave of possessiveness swirled through him, turning the blaze in his veins into an inferno.

  He was being crazy. It had been years since they'd broken up. It was ridiculous to think that a woman like Erica hadn't found another man.

  His eyes locked on Erica's face, her flushed cheeks, her reddened lips. She looked that way because of him, because of his touch. And damn him, the other man didn't matter. Only one goal, one dream, existed, and that was Erica.

  Then he met her eyes, and her wounded, confused expression was like a sucker punch straight to his gut. What the hell was he doing?

  He rubbed a hand over his face in a lame attempt to squelch all this burning desire, to banish his possessive thoughts. His fingers shook as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Finally, still not feeling the least bit calmer, he met her eyes again. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."