Emilie's Christmas Love

by James Lavene

  "Someone." She tried to straighten her shoulders, almost lost in the sensations he was creating within her. He was distracting her as she was afraid he would. It was such a lovely distraction. The need he'd created within her when they had been together in Jacques' sitting room came back with an urgent fierceness.

  "Emilie." He kissed the soft perfumed skin that was visible at the edge of her slowly sinking neckline. Tiny kisses made him ache to push lower still, to kiss that hot sweet core of her.

  "Nick," she whispered, threading her hands through his thick hair and smiling dreamily into his face.

  He looked at her, smiling up at him. Her dress was crumpled softly against her, almost the same color as the sofa they were nearly lying on in the warm room. Her eyes were flawless gems, looking trustingly up into his. They told him secrets that spoke volumes about her.

  She was alone. She was lonely. Her heart was open and vulnerable. She wasn't the kind of woman who could love and lose easily or play the game lightly. She trusted him.

  Her trust in him that made it all too easy to hurt her and all that much more difficult to leave her alone. "I'm sorry, Emilie." He sat up straight and offered her his hand to help her up out of the deep corner of the sofa. "I don't know what I was thinking."

  Emilie was at a loss for words. She straightened her bodice and moved her hair back from her face. "I appreciate you being honest."

  "Honest?" He ran an impatient hand through his hair. "Honesty seems to be my only saving grace these days.” He walked to the fireplace and stared down into it.

  "Why?" She understood why he'd pulled back from her physically. She was impressed that he didn't consider her a ripe target, sitting in the lap of luxury, openly giving herself to him.

  "Let me see." He poked the fire with the heavy iron rod. "Honesty compels me to admit that I’d like to make love to you, Emilie. I haven’t known you long, but I know you’re not that kind of woman. You want a relationship. I can’t give you one. They don't last, and my life is too short for that kind of disappointment."

  "I see.”

  "Honesty also compels me to give up Adam and Amber, the two most precious things in my life, because I promised my sister that I wouldn't try to raise them alone."

  Emilie watched him walk around the room, examining the various trinkets her family had collected down through several generations.

  "Why try to raise them alone then?" Emilie said the words before she realized what she was suggesting. "Why not marry someone and keep the children yourself? They love you. They don't want to leave you."

  "When I was twelve, my father, who loved me, who used to tell me stories every night before bed, kissed me goodnight and walked out of my life. He said he couldn't make it work anymore. He was a good man, Emilie. He just didn't know what else to do."

  Emilie arched her brows. "A good man? Nick—"

  "You don't understand because you have so much to give. Some of us aren't made that way. My sister was leaving Jack, Amber and Adam—just like my father did when we were small. She didn't have it to give anymore either, Emilie. Maybe some people are born selfish. I don't know."

  "I don't think you're a selfish person, Nick," Emilie protested. "You took in those two children."

  "And I'm going to let them go," he re-stated his case. "I know that relationships don't work for long, at least not in my family. My mother was different. She died when I was twenty. She never stopped loving my father and wishing that he'd come back."

  "Maybe you're more like your mother," Emilie supplied hopefully.

  "Maybe I'd just be bringing two more children into the world to be left by someone they thought they could trust."

  There was silence between them. The wood popped in the hearth and sparks flew up the chimney as the logs settled back in the fire.

  "So, you're just going to give them up? Isn’t that the same thing? Someone they trusted and loved saying sorry, I can't make room for you in my life."

  Nick sat down in the chair opposite her. His dark eyes were hard on her face. "If I thought there was any possibility that it could be different, I’d fight anyone who tried to take them away from me. But I know—I know it can't be different. That's why I’m letting them go while they have time to start fresh with a whole family. It’s what I can do for them.”

  "Your parents lived together for twelve years." Emilie realized she was fighting for more than just the lives of the children. She was fighting for his life, too, and maybe for hers. "You can't know that the parents who take Adam and Amber won't separate in the future, and the children will still have the same experience. No one ever knows that, Nick."

  "Some people are willing to take that chance." He smiled grimly. "I'm not. I've seen what it can do. No matter what, those kids stand a better chance with someone else than with me. So do you, for that matter."

  Emilie was glad for the dim lighting. She felt her face burn hot with embarrassment. "Maybe I only wanted to seduce you and have a good time, lonely spinster that I am.”

  He crouched down before her. His finger traced the line of her delicate jaw carefully while his eyes searched her face. "You aren't that kind of person, Emilie. Don't you think that everyone sees who you are? You live your life with an open heart. You go into everything expecting the best and willing to give your all to make it right. That's why you do so well with those kids at school. That's why they love you."

  She stared at him, touching her finger to his face as well. "You're saying that I'm so open and good hearted, saintly, if you will, that I have to be alone all of my life?"

  "Not alone." He grasped her hands in his and squeezed them gently. "You need someone who can make that same commitment to you. Someone who believes that it can work. Who's willing to try with his whole heart. You need a relationship and a family. Not a quick hop in the sack."

  "Which is what you're offering?"

  "It's all I have to offer. It's not what you need." He kissed her gently on her upturned lips. "Goodnight, Emilie."

  He left her there without looking back because he knew if he’d looked at her, smudged mouth and wide eyes, he would’ve gone back and taken her upstairs to bed.

  Emilie sat back on the warm sofa, willing her heart to stop pounding. She stared into the fire and saw his troubled eyes again. He was wrong in thinking that she wouldn’t have done whatever he’d asked of her.

  She’d lost all sense of time and purpose when she was in his arms. Desire wasn't something new to her. She'd felt the normal physical urges for girls her age when she was in school. She always told herself that her handicap held her back. She was afraid that a tall football player she’d liked would laugh at her. Or that the blond-haired captain of the debate team wouldn't look at her.

  With David, it had been different. She'd allowed herself to believe that it could be different because he was honest about her physical limitations. Sometimes he'd even complained about them, but she'd thought that was healthy.

  When he'd left her, she knew that she would never attempt another relationship that would hurt that way. She had no real reason to marry, except for children, and she believed that was an obstacle she could overcome with enough time and money.

  Emilie was blessed in that she didn't have to depend on anyone helping her financially. She could do what she liked in that direction. She might decide at some point to marry someone like Alain for the companionship, or to help her adopt a child.

  Nick was wrong about her wanting a real relationship with a man again. She’d never let her heart be broken that way. She’d never make that mistake again.

  Did that mean that she wanted to have a brief and fiery affair with Nick?

  When he'd held her hand earlier that evening, her fingers had curled around his as though they'd been together for a lifetime. There was real warmth between them—heat. She’d never felt that before. She wanted his kisses on her lips. She wanted to feel his hands glide over her body. She wanted that all consuming final wave of passion to break over her head,
even if she never saw him again.

  Was it somehow cold-hearted of her to want that once with him without being emotionally involved? Maybe that made her as odd as her aunt. She certainly hadn't been the one to stop Nick at any juncture when she'd been in his arms. It had been circumstances, or Nick himself, with his honest conscience, that had stopped them from realizing that final burst of heat.

  Was there a scheme for that? Could she plan to have Nick make love to her one grand, glorious time, make him understand that she wanted Amber and Adam and then go their separate ways?

  She opened her eyes and stared directly into Aunt Joda’s fiery green orbs.

  "I know what you're thinking," her aunt whispered, "and it won't work."

  Emilie sat up straight while her aunt poured herself a glass of the Christmas brandy. "I suppose you heard everything."

  Joda nodded. "I know your thoughts. Heavens child, he's right! You might think you could lie with him once then forget him, but it wouldn't work that way. You'd be torturing yourself, trying to see him again, talk to him, for the rest of your life!"

  "I don't want to marry him, Aunt Joda."

  "Maybe not." Her aunt shrugged, sipping her brandy. "You'd better not sleep with him either, petite. You'll lose your soul to him, mark my words!"

  Joda took the bottle and left Emilie there with her words ringing in her ears.

  Everyone knew the state of her soul so well, Emilie determined angrily. Everyone knew how vulnerable and sweet she was. How she couldn't taste forbidden fruit without being ruined.

  They were all wrong. David had changed all of that. He had changed her. Nick was handsome. Nick was sexy. That didn't mean she couldn't have him once and forget him. She meant to prove them both wrong.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emilie began to coordinate her assault on Nick's honesty with the well-honed skills of a general planning for battle. She could, and would, seduce the man. They would have what they both wanted without any of the strings that Nick was so sure she couldn't handle.

  After that, she’d convince him to give her the children. She felt she knew Nick well enough by now to know he wouldn’t hold it against her when they made love. She would never leave the children, always care for them. They would have wonderful lives with her.

  She was tired of being treated like she was a pretty Christmas angel whose dress would be soiled if she came down and touched the real world. She was good, but not perfect, and she had needs and desires like everyone else. If she had to spend the rest of her life alone, she was going to have one fantastic night to remember.

  She had no doubt that it would be wonderful. She could feel the dark warmth in herself. She could see it in Nick's eyes. Together, without his conscience and her angels' wings, they would be magic.

  If she could ever get him to slow down!

  From the night he'd left her in the library, he'd spent most of his time away from the house. She knew he was doing it on purpose. He'd said that he didn't want to hurt her. Obviously he didn't trust his own resolve not to make love to her.

  That was a point in her favor.

  She spent her days baking cookies with the children, decorating the house. They went ice-skating and for sleigh rides. It was amazing seeing the white winter world through their eyes. Everything was new and exciting. Every snowflake was not only different, but also something to be marveled at, touched and cherished.

  Aunt Joda spent more time with her than she had in years. She put on an apron and baked sugar cookies that looked like candy canes. She taught them all how to pull taffy, a skill Emilie didn't even know the older woman possessed.

  "Why didn't you do these things with me when I was a child?" she asked as they sat in the flour- covered kitchen, exhausted by a full day with the children.

  "Because you had your mama. You didn't ever need me like these two do. You had eyes only for your parents. When they were gone, the light went out of you." She put a floury hand under Emilie's chin and looked into her face. "I see it shining again now though, petite. I think these children are good for both of us. The old house smiles too, eh?"

  With possibly a hundred thousand watts of Christmas lights, it should damn well grin, Emilie thought. They had put up all the lights left over from the tree and gone out to buy more. Everything in the house was covered with lights and garland. Elegantly wrapped gifts were beginning to appear under the tree.

  "What’s that big one?" Adam demanded when he'd seen the first box. The box was six-feet long and three-feet wide, wrapped in Santa-decorated paper.

  "Let's see." Emilie put Amber down so that they could all look at the nametag.

  "It says 'Jake'!" Adam shouted.

  Amber clapped her hands and laughed, shaking her head.

  "There's one here for you, too, Amber," Adam told his sister, looking at the tag on another large package. “And one for you, too, Emilie."

  Emilie looked and there was a package for her. It was wrapped in shiny gold paper. "Who's this from?"

  Adam shrugged. "I don't know."

  Emilie put the children into bed without Nick being home for the fifth day. Christmas was quickly approaching and Emilie didn't seem to be any closer to her objectives, on either front.

  She knew she couldn't lose sight of her long-term proposition either. She wanted to have Adam and Amber with her more every day that she spent with them. Sleeping with Nick was the frosting on this cake, she reminded herself. The substance was the children. They had transformed her life as well as Joda's. She couldn't let them go.

  Time was running out. As Christmas approached, so did her deadline. Every day that Amber’s new parents were getting ready for their new daughter, was a day Emilie had wasted. She wanted it settled between Nick and herself before the holiday, but like the prospect of their single night together, she needed his participation.

  Emilie put on a pretty green dress and left the children in bed that night. Joda was sitting in her rocking chair, listening for them.

  She drove to the garage. There were no lights on in the building when she got there, no sign of Nick. The tow truck was there, she knew he wasn't out on a call.

  She drove over to his house, but it was dark there too. There was no sign of him. She sighed. She couldn’t go on cruising the streets, looking for him.

  There weren't many streets in Ferrier's Mountain, but she didn't plan to drive them all, looking for him. He lived with her, after all. All she had to do was wait for him. He had to come home sometime.

  It crossed her mind that he might not have been totally honest with her. He could be with another woman. She gnawed her lip thinking about it. He'd been in town a year. It was unlikely that he'd been alone for the whole year and hadn't developed any kind of romantic attachment.

  He was a man. An attractive man. Those dark good looks had probably moved many other women to want to spend a night in his bed.

  Not that it mattered to her how many other women were in his life, she told herself ruthlessly. All she wanted to do was have a good time with him one night. Then he could go back to his usual companion.

  Still, the idea that he was with another woman bothered her more than she wanted to admit as she drove back to her house past the twinkling Christmas lights and snow-covered porches.

  Aunt Joda was ready for bed when she got back. Emilie sat down on her bed with a heavy sigh.

  "Couldn't find him?"

  "What?"

  Joda looked at her as though she were a slow child. "You did go out looking for Nick, didn't you?"

  Emilie sighed again. "Yes, I did."

  "And?"

  "He wasn't at the garage or out on a job. He wasn't at his house."

  Joda shrugged. "Probably with another woman. You missed your chance.”

  "I don't care if he’s with another woman," Emilie said. "I was going to talk to him about the children."

  "Oh. Of course, of course," Joda agreed in a sarcastic tone. "The children are the only thing you think about."

&nb
sp; Emilie got up. "I'm tired and I'm going to bed. Thanks for watching the kids."

  "Good night then, petite." Joda kissed the top of Emilie's head. "He will come around. You'll see."

  Emilie went to her room and lay back on her bed. She stared up at the lacy canopy that was above her, not undressing or getting ready for the night. She could feel the children's presence in the room beside hers, their laughter and life permeating the stillness of the old house, even while they slept.

  She was going to wait up for Nick that night and tell him her plans. She wasn't going to wait any longer.

  About midnight, she heard the downstairs door close and heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She shook herself and tried to gather her scattered wits. She must have fallen asleep while she was waiting for him. Not that it mattered. She was awake and Nick was home. It was time to make him listen to her.

  She smoothed down her hair and put on a lacy red nightgown that left little to the imagination. It had only been delivered that day after Emilie’s secret, Internet purchase. Emilie put on new lipstick but left her hair a little mussed, hoping it made her look sexy.

  All of the lights were out in the house, except for the Christmas lights that covered the tree and the rail going up the stairs.

  Emilie crept from her room and looked for him. The door was open to Amber's room. She pushed it open a little more and followed him.

  He was kneeling beside Amber's crib, his head resting on the brass rail that circled it. The lace comforter was a halo around his dark hair. He had one hand in the crib, holding the baby's hand. Emilie stood back in the shadows, watching him.

  "I hope I'm doing the right thing," he whispered. "I don't know anymore. I don't want to give you to these strangers, even if they are stable and they'll probably love you because you're so good. I love you, too."

  Emilie heard the thick emotion in his voice. She took a step back further into the shadows.

  "I know I promised your mother that I wouldn't try to raise you alone. I know that meant a lot to her. I don't know if she knew what was best. I don't know if I know what's best either. What if she was right? What if no matter how much I love you, it's wrong to keep you?"