When she finally regained her senses, she was lying on Rob's sweaty chest, her limbs boneless, her body exhausted.
Their fast breathing harmonized, then gradually slowed, until it was even and low and barely audible under the soft Christmas music.
She felt Rob kiss the top of her head, the gesture sweet. She smiled and kissed his chest in response. Then she fell into a sound sleep.
Sometime during the night, Rob had rolled them onto their sides, facing each other. She woke to find him watching her. Without saying a word, he reached for the final condom.
Then he pulled her leg to hook over his hip, and he angled his body so he could slowly slide into her.
This coupling wasn't frantic, but unhurried and tender. A leisurely adoration of each other's bodies. A slow, steady build toward release. No less thrilling, but somehow more awe-inspiring.
As their orgasms engulfed them in long, rolling waves, they maintained eye contact, seeing the satisfaction on each other's faces. And the love.
At least Erica knew the emotion was clear on her face.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Rob and Erica didn't get much chance to talk. Donny called their room early to say he'd contacted the car rental company and had arranged for a new car.
A tow truck pulled the old car out of the snowbank and swung by the hotel so they could retrieve their luggage.
Once all the logistics were worked out, they all piled into the new rental, which was a tad nicer than the old one. Christmas Day had arrived sunny and brisk, and the driving was much smoother.
Rob and Erica once again rode in the small backseat. But this time, she curled against him, dozing.
Several times, he noticed Donny and Alex glancing back at them, curious about the state of their relationship.
He wished he knew. Even though they lived in the same city and they could continue to see each other, Erica had made no suggestion in that direction. She hadn't even hinted at continuing their relationship.
And he couldn't bring himself to propose the idea. He didn't want her to feel pressured. She had said she'd moved on. He had said horrible things to her that Christmas Eve all those years ago. Maybe they were things she couldn't really forgive. And maybe last night was about closure.
So when Donny stopped the car in front of her folks' house, Rob simply went to the trunk and pulled her luggage out. He waited while Erica thanked Donny and Alex.
"I hope your sister forgives you for being late for her wedding," she said.
Donny shrugged. "Well, it is her third one."
"You know what they say: Third time's the charm."
"Lord, I hope," Donny said dramatically.
"Bye." Erica waved.
Rob walked her to her front door like he had a hundred times before. "Have a Merry Christmas."
"You, too." Her smile seemed bittersweet, but he just couldn't tell if it was because she didn't really want to say good-bye or because this good-bye was for good.
"I'm glad I got to see you again." His words were so inadequate, and they didn't even begin to describe how he felt about last night. But he added nothing else.
"Me, too." She nodded. "Good-bye, Rob."
"Good-bye."
She entered her house, the door banging closed behind her, just as it had once before.
He stood there for just a moment, then returned to the car.
"Are you okay?" Donny asked. Apparently, Rob's misery was clear on his face.
He nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
"Just remember, anything worth having is worth fighting for," Alex told him, then he reached out to caress Donny's shoulder.
Rob nodded again. But he didn't know if he should really listen to two men who spent their Christmas Eve fighting over who they did and didn't look like.
When Rob arrived at his parents' house, he was greeted at the door by his folks, Mo, Neil, and the baby. He was quickly enveloped in chatter and laughter.
Later, they sat in his parents' living room, on the furniture they'd had since he and Mo were in grade school, and they exchanged gifts.
Dad oohed and ahhed over a tie that Mom got him—even though she gave him a tie every Christmas. Mo and Neil tried to get Stewie interested in a toy they'd gotten him, but the baby was much happier gumming away on the crumpled wrapping paper.
Rob's mother unwrapped the gift he had bought her—an expensive ruby-and-diamond pendant.
"Robby," she said when she saw it. "This is lovely." She hooked the necklace around her neck, then announced she needed to check the turkey.
When she walked past him, she leaned down and hugged him. "I love my gift," she said softly. "But don't you know that having you home is the best gift of all? The only gift I needed." She kissed his cheek. She disappeared into the turkey-scented kitchen.
Rob looked around him, no longer seeing the shabby furniture and faded wallpaper. Instead, he noticed only the people. His dad, who talked in a silly voice to Stewie. Mo and Neil, who gazed at each other, love so clear in their eyes. His mother, who sang "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" in the kitchen.
And suddenly, the truth hit him. Erica had been absolutely right all those years ago. Success isn't measured by money or promotions. Success is measured by the people who love you.
Ambition is fine, but it doesn't keep a person warm at night. And it isn't important without someone to share it with. And he knew with whom he wanted to share his success and his life and his love.
He stood. "I have to go."
His mother came back into the room. Everyone, even Stewie, stared at him.
"I have to go tell Erica Fetzer that I love her."
If his family thought his sudden announcement was odd, they didn't say so.
The doorbell rang.
Erica sat on her parents' couch watching It's a Wonderful Life and feeling very bad for herself, but she yelled that she'd answer the door.
"Rob," she murmured, shocked to see him there on her parents' front porch. His hair was windblown, his cheeks reddened, and he breathed heavy, as if he'd run to get there.
"Hi."
"Hi." She peered at him, puzzled. Why was he here? Her heart leaped with hope, but she ignored it. He wasn't here to proclaim his love. If he loved her, he could have told her last night, or earlier today in the car.
"Did you have a nice Christmas?" she asked politely, not sure what else to say, and he didn't act as though he planned to speak.
"The best," he said.
"And your family wasn't too disappointed that you weren't home on Christmas Eve?"
"I was home for Christmas Eve," he stated.
She frowned at him, starting to think maybe he'd somehow gone mad between last night and now. Or, at the very least, had drunk a bit too much eggnog.
"I was home because I was with you."
He had gone mad. But his certain insanity still didn't stop her heart from pirouetting in her chest.
"Rob—"
He held up a hand. "Erica, I want you to know that you were right. The Christmas Eve when we broke up, you told me that I'd changed. That all I cared about was success. That was true, but I now know that success is nothing if you're alone."
She nodded, waiting for him to continue.
"I'm sorry, Erica. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for saying those awful things about your college and your studies and your art. I'm sorry that I was so blind and thoughtless and selfish."
He stared at her for a moment as if he expected her to say more.
What could she say? "I appreciate your apology."
"Erica." He stepped closer, capturing her warm hands in his cold ones, stroking his thumbs back and forth across the backs. Even that small touch prickled awareness over her skin. "I don't want you to move on. I don't want you to forget me. I want you to share my successes. I want to share yours. I want to know all your dreams. I want to tell you mine. But most of all, I want us to spend the rest of our lives together."
She stared at him for a mome
nt. This is what she'd dreamed of, yet now that her dream had happened, she didn't quite dare to believe it.
He stared back, and she could see the sincerity and the nervousness in his coffee-colored eyes.
He was serious. He wanted them to be a couple. Her heart clattered painfully against her ribs. She couldn't pull in a breath.
"Erica," his voice sounded anxious, uncertain. "You're killing me here. Please tell me I can have another chance. I love you, and I can't lose you again."
Before he could even finish, she flung her arms around him.
"Yes," she said against his mouth. "Yes."
Then they were kissing.
"I love you, Erica. So, so much."
"And I love you. I always have."
"And you forgive me for being the world's biggest idiot? For all the years we lost?"
"Oh, I plan to make you pay," she warned.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mm-hmm. Every night."
He grinned, his eyes smoldering, that dimple she loved deepening. "Yes, I definitely do need to pay—with interest. I know these things—I'm a banker."
She laughed and kissed him again, tasting the love on his lips.
Finally, he lifted his head. "Now, take me inside. I want your parents to meet the man you're going to marry."
She linked her fingers with his, tugging him into the house, and the door gently closed behind them both.
Chapter One
Jackson Peterson saw the immediate response to his e-mail by Krista Miller and smiled to himself. Krista was his go-to girl. The only one on the entire finance staff seemingly not bitten by the holiday fever that had swept the building. He clicked on her name, telling himself it was the fact that she was a hotshot accountant and not that she had a killer pair of legs that excited him whenever he saw her name.
He froze in his chair as he read the e-mail message. I'm out of the office until January 2. Please direct all inquiries to Marsha Graham at [email protected].
Not believing what he was reading, Jackson picked up the phone and dialed her extension. Her cheerful voice answered on the first ring. "You've reached the office of Krista Miller. I'm out of the office until January second. Please contact Marsha Graham at extension 7158. Thanks."
This was why he hated the holidays. This was why everyone in the office called him Scrooge. He'd counted on the information that Krista was pulling for him. He needed it to finish his report before he left for the evening. And now he was going to have to do the work himself.
He knew better than to depend on anyone. At Christmas time people got caught up in the holidays and forgot commitments. He was just surprised that Krista was one of them. She'd been very dependable up to this point.
The knock on the door frame startled him. He glanced up to see a bottle of some sort of wine and two long-stemmed champagne glasses under the mistletoe someone had hung on his door just to needle him.
"Scrooge McDuck, you in here?"
"Krista, I just called your office. I thought you'd left."
"Did that piss you off?" she asked, sashaying into his office like she owned it and sitting on the edge of his desk.
"Hell, yeah."
"How do you feel now?" she asked, setting the two pieces of stemware on his desk and pouring the sparkling liquid into them.
"Like I wish you'd stop pouring … what are you pouring?"
"Champagne. Continue with what you were saying."
"I wish you'd stop wasting time and tell me why we are drinking and not going over the numbers in the report you were supposed to have on my desk"—he glanced at the Swiss Army watch on his wrist—"two minutes ago."
She handed him a glass and hopped off his desk. She took a quick sip of hers then smiled at him with pure devilry in her eyes. "I think you better drink the sparkling wine while I explain. In fact, you might wish for something stronger but since this is the office and we're technically still at work, I thought I'd better stick to what was okayed by Human Resources for the holiday celebrations."
"I don't celebrate the holidays," he said, knowing she knew this. He'd thought Krista a kindred spirit. A fellow workaholic who understood that a hard day's work was what really mattered, not a calendar full of social obligations during the workday.
"Believe me, I know. But I've come up with a diabolical plot to force you out of your Chief Financial Officer/Scrooge persona for this one night."
He finally took one of the long-stemmed glasses from her and took a sip. There was something sexy about the way she said diabolical. And the glimmer in her eyes echoed the one inside him. He'd wanted her since she'd walked into his office six months ago and aside from one accidental kiss on the elevator late at night three weeks ago, he'd managed to forget about that side of her … until this moment.
But he was from the never-let-them-see-you-sweat school. "Go on, I can't wait to hear the rest of this."
"Well, you're being blackmailed, Jack. I'm not going to supply you the numbers you need to finish that report unless you come to dinner with me."
"Why are you blackmailing me?" he asked, not sure what he hoped her answer would be.
"Because I want to get Scrooge and make him understand there's more to life than work. I studied the story and thought about following it to the tee."
"What story?"
"A Christmas Carol by Dickens. You do know why the staff calls you Scrooge, right?"
"Krista, I'm considered a patient man by most but you are tempting me to lose my temper."
"Hot damn!"
"Okay, smarty, what made you decide not to follow the story?"
"You live in a gated community and have a really good security system. For me to visit you three times I think I'd have to take a little trip to the police department. And I really don't want to spend Christmas Eve in lock-up. Not exactly conducive to what I have in mind."
"What do you have in mind? And why can't you just give me my report? If you did that, I'd be able to actually get out of here and go enjoy this life you don't seem to think I have."
"No, you won't. That information's not due to Roger until after the first of the year. That means you'll immediately jump into doing the pro forma on the new chain of West Coast retail stores that we have scheduled for January."
He hated that she knew him so well. When had his work habits changed from dedicated and driven to predictable? Most of his staff never looked at him. Never saw him as anything other than a hard boss who rewarded them financially with bonuses twice a year. Why did she?
Krista knew the instant she had Jackson. She saw it in his face as he saved whatever spreadsheet he was working on and leaned back in that big leather chair of his, tunneling his fingers through his thick black hair.
She almost groaned. He always did that with his hands when he was thinking. Inevitably his hair was the slightest bit ruffled and she always wanted to smooth it back into place. She balled her hands into fists and then realized that it was a telling gesture and she didn't want him to guess she was the least bit nervous.
She'd taken a big risk tonight, all based on one kiss that she wasn't sure really happened.
"So, Scrooge, what do you say?" she asked, afraid to let too much time pass. She'd planned this evening perfectly, knowing that her window of opportunity was a narrow one. Honestly, she wasn't sure her nerves were up to a lengthy show of bravado.
"Stop sassing me or I'll have to get tough with you. Exactly what are your terms, blackmailer?"
She paced away from his desk to resist the temptation of him. "You and I leave this place and go to an undisclosed location for an intimate dinner for two during which we don't discuss work. Then we return to the office, I give you your report and we both go home."
She waggled her eyebrows at him when she said undisclosed. Everything about her attitude right now was sexy, seductive. Meant to make him lose that legendary cool of his. And she knew it was working because she saw just the smallest hint of a smile in his eyes.
"We both go hom
e alone?"
She arched one eyebrow at him. "That totally depends on you, Mr. Scrooge."
"If you wanted to go out with me, why not just ask?" he asked. "Northern Sports has a very open fraternization policy."
To be honest, she normally wasn't the type to ask a guy out. She'd always been an expert at dropping subtle hints that men had never failed to pick up on and then ask her out. But she'd given up waiting for Jackson when it had become apparent he wasn't going to make the first move.
"Stop stalling. Make your decision. A two hour dinner break or seven hours worth of doing the research and pulling the figures together on your own."
"If I do this, you're going to have to meet some stipulations."
"What kind? I don't want to negotiate with you. I prefer to keep things simple."
"Blackmailers always do. But as the blackmailee—"
"Is blackmailee even a word?"
"Who knows? I'm a math geek, not a wordsmith."
"No way did anyone ever call you a geek," she said.
"You think?"
"Am I wrong?"
"Nah, I'm a jock. Numbers just come easy to me. Back to what I was saying … I know that I have to set limits or you'll be back again."
He had no idea how much she hoped she'd be able to seduce him away from work not just this once. But she knew if this didn't work she'd have no choice but to leave Northern Sports and find another job. She didn't think she'd be able to face him every day if this didn't work.
"I don't see this happening again."
"I do. So here are my terms. I want to see the report now so that I can verify you've done the work. I will then enter the numbers into my report and save the worksheet. We will both leave together and go to dinner at the undisclosed location. And then we'll go home."
"What about printing and distributing the report?"
"That can wait until after Christmas."
He surprised her and she could tell he liked it. His personality was too dominant to let her have control of anything for too long. She stared at him. "How do I know you'll keep your word?"
"Have I ever broken a promise?" he asked.
Anthology - The Night Before Christmas Page 18
