The Nurse's Christmas Gift

by Tina Beckett

  A few seconds went by, and then a warm hand touched her arm. ‘Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come here alone, and you were the person I chose to bring. Can’t that be enough?’

  Yes. It could.

  She drew in a deep breath and let it out in a whisper of sound. ‘I’m sorry. And I wanted to come too. So yes, let’s just leave it at that for now, shall we?’

  His fingers moved slowly down her arm, along her glove, until his hand covered hers on the table. ‘Then as soon as you’re finished with that form, will you dance with me?’

  Letting her fingers circle his for a brief second, she lifted them with a nod. ‘Yes. I’d love to.’

  * * *

  Max’s hand slid around her waist and swung her around the room for a second time, the music pulling him into a world where nothing else existed but her touch and the synchronised movements of their bodies as they danced together. It had been ages since he’d held her like this.

  It felt good and right, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. What he did know was that he didn’t want this night to end any time soon.

  Maybe it didn’t have to.

  Annabelle had said she didn’t want any expectations or any preconceived ideas.

  Had she meant that she didn’t want the past to stand in the way of them being together tonight? He had no idea. But if she was willing to just take tonight as it came, then maybe he should be okay with doing the same.

  And with her cheek pressed against his left shoulder, he wasn’t in a hurry to do anything to change the situation.

  He’d been an idiot about Dale being there with her at the table. But the man—a general physician—had somehow charmed his way into more than one bed when they’d served on the medical mission in Sudan that year. The women hadn’t complained, but back then Max had been too raw from his own heartache to take kindly to someone jumping from one person to the next.

  He’d fielded some veiled invitations of his own from female volunteers, but he hadn’t taken any of them up on their offers. In reality, he hadn’t wanted anyone. The sting of rejection when Anna had asked him to leave had penetrated deep, leaving no room for anything else but work. In reality, he’d been happy to be alone. It was a condition he was well acquainted with.

  And something he didn’t want to think about right now.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He murmured the words into her hair, breathing deeply and wondering what the hell he was playing at.

  ‘Mmm.’

  It wasn’t really an answer, but the sound made something come alive in his gut. How long had they been here, anyway?

  Not that he wanted to look at his watch. In fact, he didn’t want to leave at all. But they couldn’t stay here all night, and once they left...

  It was over.

  ‘Anna?’

  ‘Yes?’

  He paused, trying to figure out what he wanted. ‘Are you still okay with spending the night in London?’

  Her feet stopped moving for a second. ‘Yes. I can stay with my folks if you don’t want me at the flat, although I didn’t ask Mum if she had room.’

  ‘We can share the flat. I just wasn’t sure if you’d decided you wanted to get back to Cheltenham—’

  ‘No. As long as we can check on Hope at some point, I have no plans until my shift starts midday tomorrow.’ She eased back to look into his face. ‘Unless you’ve changed your mind.’

  Not hardly.

  But he should have told her he had. Because holding her brought back memories of dancing with her other times, when life was simpler and all that mattered was their love for each other. Seeing that picture on the wall at Anna’s parents’ house had made all those feelings come back in a rush. He’d been having trouble tamping them down again, but he’d better work out how.

  Because, as of now, he and Anna were going to be sharing their flat one last night.

  And the memories and feelings that haunted that place were a thousand times more powerful than anything he might have felt as he’d looked at that wall of pictures. His heart thudded heavy in his chest as the music changed, the singer they’d hired shifting to a lower octave, his voice throaty with desire. The mood in the place changed along with it, dancers beginning to hold each other a little closer.

  Right on cue, the arms around his neck tightened just a hair, bringing his face closer to hers. And suddenly all he wanted to do was kiss her.

  ‘Anna...’

  Her eyes slowly came up and focused on his. He saw the exact same longing in them that he felt in his gut. Tired to hell of fighting what he’d been wanting to do for days, Max lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

  * * *

  Nothing was fast enough.

  Annabelle’s body couldn’t keep up with the ricochet of emotions as Max spun her back into his arms the second they were inside the lift at their old flat, heading towards the fourth floor. Thank heavens no one else was in the compartment, because it felt as if she were on fire, and the only one who could quench the blaze was having none of it. He was keeping the flames fanned to inferno-like proportions.

  Her gloved fingers gripped the expensive fabric of his tuxedo jacket as she tried desperately to return kiss for kiss...to respond to his murmured words. In the end, all she could do was hang on and pray they reached the flat before the dam totally broke and the camera caught them doing something that could get them arrested.

  Ping! Ping!

  Finally. The soft sound signalled they had arrived at their destination. The only thing left was to... The doors opened.

  ‘Max.’ His name came out as half chuckle, half moan as she tried to tug him to the side. ‘We need to get off.’

  His fingers tunnelled into her hair, his lips nibbling on the line of her jaw and making her shiver with need. ‘And if I don’t want to move out of the lift?’

  ‘Then...ooh!...then we’re going to be stuck riding it for the rest of the night.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’ His pained smile put paid to his words, but he stuck a hand between the doors just as they were getting ready to close. ‘The image of you “riding it for the rest of the night...”’

  They slid into the foyer, a ring of doors lining the fourth floor. She tried to call to mind the number of their flat, but, with her head this fuzzy with need, she was having trouble. ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Four-oh-three.’

  Gripping her hand as if afraid she might try to flee before they made it inside, he came up with a set of keys from one of the pockets of his trousers.

  No way. She wasn’t about to run.

  Somehow Max got the key fitted into the lock and turned it. They practically fell inside the door.

  Home!

  No, not home. But close enough.

  Dumping the keys onto the marble table in the foyer, he navigated through a hallway, switching lights on as he went, towing her behind him. She glanced around as they went through the flat.

  It was immaculate. He’d said that Suzanne came once a month to clean. Annabelle didn’t even want to think about how much money that added up to over the course of the last couple of years.

  The place looked just as she’d left it. Her mum had told her to take the furniture with her to her new flat, but Annabelle hadn’t wanted anything to do with the sad remains of their marriage. So she’d just left it all for Max to dispose of. It looked as if he hadn’t wanted to be left in charge of that task any more than she had.

  Down the hallway, past a bathroom and two guest bedrooms, until they arrived at their old room. Three years later, the brown silk spread still adorned the bed, looking brand-new. It could have been a mausoleum preserving a slice of her life that had been both happy and filled with anguish.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s all still here.’

  That seemed to stop Max for a mom
ent. He looked around as if seeing it all for the first time. ‘I haven’t been here in ages. I always meant to change things, but...’

  He hadn’t been able to any more than she had.

  ‘Let’s not think about that right now.’ She wrapped her arms around his waist, unwilling to ruin what had been building between them ever since they’d come face to face in the corridors of Teddy’s. It seemed as if every tick of the clock had been leading to this.

  Whatever ‘this’ was.

  He cupped her face in his hands. ‘Let’s not,’ he agreed before moving in to kiss her once more.

  Again and again, his lips touched hers until the fire was back and this time there was nothing to hold them back.

  Annabelle pushed his tuxedo jacket from his shoulders, moving to catch it when it started to drop to the floor.

  ‘Leave it.’ His knuckles dragged up the length of her neck, smoothing along the line of her jaw until he reached her ear. He toyed with one of her chandelier earrings, making it swing on her lobe in a way that made her shudder. He’d always known exactly how to make her melt like a pot of jelly that had been exposed to a heat source.

  And he was the ultimate heat source, his body generating temperatures that threatened to scorch her until nothing was left but smouldering embers.

  And she was fine with that.

  He reached around and found the zipper on her dress—began edging it downward.

  ‘Wait!’

  She wasn’t sure quite why she said that word, other than the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra under the gown, and if he got her dress off—well, she would be standing there in only her underwear while Max was almost fully clothed.

  He evidently misunderstood because he went very still. Too still.

  ‘Max?’

  ‘Do you want me to stop?’ He leaned back to look at her face.

  ‘Yes. I mean no.’ She shook her head, trying to form her words in a way that wouldn’t sound completely off the wall. ‘I’m not wearing...um...anything under this. I was hoping to even up the odds a little bit first.’

  ‘You’re not wearing anything?’ He took a step back and dragged a hand through his hair. ‘I am very glad I didn’t know that while we were out on the dance floor. Or driving over here. Or in the lift.’

  ‘I’m not totally naked. There was just no way to wear a bra with the back of the dress the way it is.’

  He moved in again, his fingers trailing up the length of her spine and then walking back down it. ‘Very glad I didn’t know that, either. But now that I do...’ His fingers again reached for the zipper and tugged it down, while Annabelle scrambled to hold up the front of her dress.

  ‘What happened to evening up the odds?’

  ‘I kind of like the odds the way they are.’

  ‘You mean when they’re in your favour?’

  Max grinned at her but took a step back and began undoing the knot of his bow tie. ‘You want even? You’ve got it.’

  Not fair!

  ‘But I wanted to do that.’

  ‘It’s much safer this way.’ He pulled the tie through the starched white collar of his shirt and let it drop on top of his jacket.

  ‘Safer for whom?’

  ‘For me. And for you.’ His fingers went to the first button of the shirt.

  This time she groaned. Then a thought came to her. He’d done this on purpose. If she was holding up the front of her dress, she wouldn’t be able to touch him, which meant...

  That the thought of her doing so was making him as crazy as he was making her.

  Well, two can play at that game, Max Ainsley!

  ‘Oh, Max...’ She let his name play over her tongue.

  His hands stopped where they were, his brows coming together.

  With what she hoped was a saucy smile, she let go of her dress, glad when it whispered down her body and pooled at her feet, instead of just staying put and forcing her to awkwardly push it to the ground.

  His reaction was more than worth it. A blast of profanity-laced air hissed from his mouth as he stood there and stared. And when she started to move a step forward, he lurched backwards.

  Annabelle was glad she’d decided to wear her laciest underwear ever, the red matching her dress to a tee. They rode high up on her hips and, while not quite a thong, they’d been advertised as Brazilian cut, which meant there was only a narrow band of fabric that covered her behind.

  She peeled one of her gloves off in a long smooth move, and then the other, letting each of them land on top of her dress. ‘Now the odds are even, don’t you think?’ She moved forward again, and this time Max stayed put. Maybe he was just incapable of thought right now, which had been her exact intent. She pressed her palms against his chest, gratified to feel the pounding of his heart beneath her touch. ‘Let me help you with those buttons, since you seem to be having trouble.’

  He still didn’t say anything as she somehow managed to flip open one white button after another, until she reached the one at the top of his cummerbund. Pressing herself against his chest and gratified to hear yet another gust of air above her head, she reached around him to find the fastening at the back that held the wide satin band in place. It too hit the floor.

  Evidently, Max had had all he could take, because his hands wrapped around her upper arms and eased her away from him. ‘You’re a witch, you know that?’

  ‘Mmm-hmm. Be careful, or I might cast an evil spell on you.’

  ‘A spell? Yes. I think you already have.’ He swooped her up into his arms and dumped her in the middle of the bed, the brown silk rippling out from her landing spot. ‘Although whether it’s evil or not is yet to be seen.’

  Max backed up several paces and made short work of the rest of his buttons, undoing the fastening on the front of his black trousers. And this time it was Annabelle who got to enjoy the show, as his strong chest appeared along with those taut abs. Off came his shoes and black socks.

  The man made her mouth water. Even his feet were sexy.

  Then he hesitated, and her attention shot back to his face.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  His smile this time was a bit forced, the lopsided gesture she loved so much tipped a little lower than normal. ‘I’m trying to hold it together.’

  Annabelle’s relieved sigh was full of pure joy. He wasn’t having second thoughts. He wanted this just as much as she did. ‘Then why don’t you come over here and let me hold it for a while?’

  ‘Did I call you a witch yet?’ His laughter came out sounding choked, but at least his voice had lost that weird edge he’d had moments earlier.

  ‘Yes.’ She leaned up on one elbow and crooked a finger at him. ‘Time to stop stalling and let me help you finish.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, Anna: that you’ll help me finish before I’m ready.’

  ‘Hmm...we can take care of that on the next round.’

  ‘Next?’ He came forward until he was close enough for her to go into action. She sat up and scooted her butt to the edge of the bed until he stood between her thighs.

  ‘Yes, next.’ She said the word with conviction, reaching again for his waistband. This time the zipper went down, and he made no effort to stop her. Pushing his trousers down his legs, she let him kick them out of the way. ‘And now, Maxwell Ainsley, we’re finally even.’

  They both still had their underwear on.

  ‘You first, then.’ Max leaned over her, planting his hands on the bed on either side of her thighs, but he made no effort to strip her bare. Instead, his lips found hers, his touch soft and sweet and somehow just as erotic as the more demanding kisses had been. She tipped her head up, absorbing each tiny taste, each brush of friction as they came together over and over. Soon, though, the V between her parted legs began to send up a prote
st, a needy throbbing making itself known. She pushed herself even closer to the edge of the bed, her thighs spreading further. It didn’t help.

  Well, his ‘you first’ might mean she was supposed to strip him first, right? So that was exactly what she would do. Hooking her thumbs in the elastic band on his hips, she gave a quick tug before he could say or do anything, pushing them down to his knees.

  ‘Cheater,’ he murmured, not moving from his spot, every syllable causing his lips to brush against hers.

  ‘We never set any ground rules, if I remember right. And if you’ll just stand up, I’ll finish the job.’

  ‘I don’t trust you.’

  ‘No?’ She gave him a smile full of meaning. ‘Well, there’s more than one way to skin a cat...or undress a man.’

  With that she lay back on the bed, kicked off her high-heeled pumps and slid her bare feet up the backs of his calves. When she reached the spot where his boxers were still clinging to his legs, she pushed them as far down as she could. Max still hadn’t moved a muscle...except for the one currently ticking away on the side of his jaw.

  What she didn’t expect was for his hands to whisk up her sides and cover her breasts, the warm heat and promise of his touch making the nipples harden instantly. He didn’t stay there, however; his fingers were soon travelling down the line of her belly until he reached her own underwear and dragged them down her thighs, moving backwards as he inched them over her legs, across her ankles and finally pulled them free of her body. He stepped out of his boxers while he was at it. Or at least she assumed he did, since she couldn’t actually see him do it.

  This time when he parted her legs, there was no mistaking his intent.

  ‘You want to play with fire, Anna? Well, you’ve got it.’

  With that, he put his hands beneath her bottom and tugged. Hard. Hard enough that she slid forward to meet his ready flesh. ‘Is this what you want?’

  The part of her that had been throbbing in anticipation clenched, thinking he was going to give it to her right away. Instead, he slid up past it, eliciting a whispered complaint from her. It ended in a moan when he found that nerve-rich area just a little higher.