Once Upon a Christmas Night...

by Annie Claydon

  Greg had shielded her face with his hand, holding her as the final agonising manoeuvres removed the metal that was trapping her legs. And then, at last, she was out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  TINA WAS FREE of the twisted wreckage. Her leg was badly broken and she had a few nasty cuts, but she was comfortable and on her way to hospital. Greg smiled to himself as he watched The blue lights disappearing over the brow of a hill. He couldn’t ignore the buzz. The excitement of meeting a challenge. The feeling that he’d helped make the biggest difference of all to someone.

  It was starting to sleet, and when he turned, Jess was standing behind him. Little shards of ice were beginning to stick to her hair, and one glistened on her eyelashes. The temptation to brush it away hit him hard and twisted remorselessly in his chest.

  ‘Good job.’

  She was smiling at him. Greg wondered whether it was her smile or her words that meant the most to him. Perhaps they were inseparable.

  ‘This is what you were meant to do, Greg.’

  He didn’t want to get into that at the moment. He was tired and Jess was beginning to shiver. ‘Is Ted ready to go?’

  ‘Yes, he’s in the car.’ She gestured towards the SUV.

  ‘Let’s make tracks, then.’

  Greg stayed long enough to see Ted tip himself into an armchair and then borrowed his mother’s car keys to take Jess home. She was wet, cold and dirty. Lovely beyond any accepted sense of the word.

  ‘I think I need a shower.’ She grinned at him, half-apologetically.

  ‘Yeah. Me too.’ Greg saw her flush slightly and elaborated quickly. ‘Your room has an en suite bathroom.’ Therefore his did too. Two geographically separate showers. ‘I’ll get the fire going in the living room and heat up some soup.’

  ‘Sounds fabulous.’ She gave him a smile and made for the stairs.

  The house didn’t do sunny at all. It didn’t really do welcoming, and Greg was aware that although he’d stopped noticing that a long time ago, Jess hadn’t failed to. What it did do tolerably well was long winter evenings, curled up in front of the fire. Greg lit the firelighters in the grate, and arranged a couple of easy chairs close enough to catch the heat when the blaze got going.

  She took her time upstairs. Greg had showered, heated the soup and bought a tray through to the living room before some sixth sense alerted him of her presence behind him.

  ‘What have you been doing up there?’ He turned and almost dropped the mug of soup that he was holding. She looked like cotton candy. Pink cheeks and a thick, white towelling robe that she’d found in the bathroom, with pink pyjamas on underneath. Thick socks on her feet. Wet hair, combed back from her face. Greg nearly choked with desire.

  ‘Is it okay to use this?’ She tugged at the robe.

  ‘Of course. That’s what they’re there for.’ He didn’t even know were they came from. They were just there, and the housekeeper who came in three times a week made sure that they were laundered and fresh in all the guest rooms. ‘Come and sit down.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She sat, tucking her legs up beneath her. Greg handed her a mug of soup and she rewarded him with a smile of complete happiness.

  He stoked the fire until flames began to crackle in the grate. Sat back down in his chair and allowed himself to watch her. Relaxed, curled up in an armchair, revelling in the heat of the fire.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ Her gaze was steady on his face and Greg almost flinched.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What did you feel? When you got that woman out of the car.’

  That sounded like a trick question. ‘You know what I felt.’

  ‘Yes, I do. I just wanted to make sure that… ’ She paused, studying the flames. ‘That you hadn’t lost that feeling. Or reconsidered it. Anything like that.’

  What had Ted been saying to her? Or perhaps his mother had dragged her off into a corner somewhere for one of those woman-to-woman chats. But Ted and his mother knew no more than Jess did. Perhaps he was just not as good at hiding it as he’d thought.

  ‘It doesn’t get old. You saw Ted, he’s been a doctor for thirty years and he still gets a thrill out of what he does.’

  ‘Good. That’s good.’ She was watching the fire as if it contained the answer to everything. As if she could see her dreams reflected in it, if she only looked hard enough. ‘When you were away… ’

  ‘Not tonight, Jess. Please.’

  ‘You don’t know what I was about to say.’

  ‘Whatever it is.’ He leaned back in his chair, letting the warmth from the fire relax his knotted muscles. Just one evening off from the continual, nagging demands that had dogged him from one side of the Atlantic to the other. ‘Can we talk about it another time?’

  She didn’t seem sorry to let it go for a while, shifting in her chair, snuggling and stretching like a cat. ‘Okay. Another time.’

  He put some music on. Sleepy background music, playing softly so that it didn’t drown out their conversation. The talk drifted, sliding effortlessly from the plans for Christmas at the hospital to model making and then on to storytelling.

  ‘This is just the place. An open fire, cold outside, not another soul for miles.’ She grinned wickedly. ‘It was a dark and stormy night… ’

  ‘And the electricity was off.’

  ‘And the water.’

  ‘Water? Does that matter?’ She shrugged and he grinned at her. ‘Okay, then the gas is off too.’

  She snorted with laughter. ‘That doesn’t matter either. Ghosts don’t mind gas.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘They’re ephemeral beings. They are probably some sort of gas themselves.’

  ‘If you say so. The gas was on, then, and the candlelight flickered low around the people stranded in the middle of nowhere.’

  ‘Whose car had broken down.’

  ‘And then they realised that they’d both forgotten to recharge their phones.’

  ‘Yep. And the landline’s down as well.’

  ‘And the walk down to the next village is blocked by snow.’

  ‘And they’ve forgotten their snow boots.’ She was laughing now.

  ‘Reasonable enough thing to do. So they’re alone in the house, quite unaware that something’s lurking.’

  ‘And they put some music on… ’

  ‘I thought the electricity was out.’

  She grinned. ‘He’s very resourceful, he’s managed to fix it. They put some music on to drown out the sound of the rain on the windows and the bumps and creaks in the house.’

  ‘Yeah. Only it’s snowing, not raining.’

  ‘Snow doesn’t make a noise on the windows.’

  ‘Sleet, then.’

  ‘Okay, sleet.’ She nodded, the way she always did when she considered something sorted. In the firelight she was almost unbearably beautiful. ‘They turn the music up loud, because they’re out in the country now and don’t have to worry about disturbing the neighbours.’

  ‘Like this.’ Greg leaned over, sweeping his finger across the shiny surface of his mp3 player, choosing a slow dance track and cranking up the volume.

  ‘Just like that.’ Her fingers started to follow the beat, moving gently on the arm of her chair. Almost a caress.

  ‘And they dance.’ The story was taking a volatile turn, but Greg didn’t care. It was just a story. Something to ward off the darkness.

  She hesitated. ‘She’s not really dressed for dancing.’

  ‘But it doesn’t matter, because she’s exquisitely beautiful in the firelight.’ Greg got to his feet. Took her hand and in response to his gentle tug she was on her feet. In his arms.

  It was just the way it had been before. Jess could ward off all manner of bad spirits and all of his fears for the future. There was no past, no future, just the present. He led their slow dance, circling her in front of the fire.

  ‘Nice.’ The music has finished but they were still dancing, bodies pressed together. No friction, just moving in p
erfect synchronisation. ‘This is nice, Greg.’

  ‘Just nice?’

  ‘Lovely.’ She rested her head on his chest and he caught the clean scent of her hair. ‘Scary.’

  ‘Stick with me. You said I was very resourceful.’

  She laughed quietly, snuggling closer to him. She wanted this as much as he did. A break from reality, where they could just follow their own instincts. Right now his instinct was to kiss her.

  She didn’t stop him. Let him press his lips against her cheek, taste the warmth of her skin. When he ran one thumb over her lips, she shivered slightly against him. And when he kissed her mouth she gave a sigh, as if she’d been holding her breath, waiting for this.

  ‘What are we doing, Greg?’

  ‘Dancing.’ He brushed his lips against her cheek. ‘Kissing.’

  ‘Is it a good idea?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s a very good idea. Last Christmas… it wasn’t just a mistake that’s better off forgotten.’

  ‘It was a long time ago.’

  ‘It was just yesterday. Nothing’s changed.’ Everything had changed, but Greg could find his way back. Pretend that tonight was a loop in time, and they could simply pick up where they’d left off.

  ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘I’m not very sure about a lot of things at the moment.’ He took her hand and laid it over his heart. ‘This, I’m sure of.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She managed a watery smile. ‘Tachycardia. You might think about making an appointment with Gerry.’

  ‘I’d rather you dealt with it.’ He laid his hand over hers, sliding it inside his shirt, feeling his skin react to the heat of her touch. Electricity buzzed in the air around them.

  Her hands slid to his neck and then up, to cup his face. ‘Does this mean… ?’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t even know what it means.’

  He laid a finger to her lips. ‘It means just you and me, for tonight. Every moment until the sun rises. Everything else will wait.’

  ‘Yes. I think it will.’ She pulled his head down towards her, and kissed him. Drew back slightly, confident that if she gave him one taste, he’d take a second.

  One hand moved to the tie of her bathrobe and he caught her wrist. ‘I’ll do it.’ He’d fantasised about undressing her for too many months to miss it now.

  ‘Hmm. Not exactly silk and lace.’

  He laughed against her lips. ‘Warmer. Nicer.’

  ‘You’re such a charmer, Greg.’ That friendly, one-quarter mocking tone that she used whenever he tried to dress things up with pretty words. Jess was about the only woman he knew who talked about his charm, the rest of them just lapped it up and fell victim to it.

  ‘So it’s not working?’

  ‘It’s working.’ She planted a kiss on his lips and charm suddenly felt as if it was a private joke, just between the two of them. Something that made her smile but didn’t touch the honest, down-to-earth fire that he wanted more than anything else that he could think of.

  Actions now. He was trembling like a teenager, afraid of not doing this right. It was crazy. He knew how to please a woman. But, then, Jess wasn’t just any woman.

  Carefully, he tugged at the knot at her waist, fumbling with it. It came loose and he slipped the bathrobe down her shoulders, tightening his grip when it reached her elbows and pulling her against him. She gasped with delight.

  ‘Do you think I’m going to put up a struggle?’

  He almost let go, shocked at the strength of his urgency, and then she kissed him again. Arms pinioned at her sides, almost helpless, and loving every moment of his desire for her.

  ‘Are you going to, then?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Every time.’ She slipped free of the bathrobe and it fell at her feet. ‘You?’

  ‘I think I might.’ He’d lose. Greg knew that he couldn’t resist her and that he couldn’t protect himself with well-worn phrases or practised caresses. This was uncharted territory, and, dammit, it he just couldn’t keep himself away from it.

  He unbuttoned her pyjama top, finding that there was another layer underneath. Good. A pretty, lace trimmed vest, which somehow managed to combine the practical with the erotic.

  ‘My turn.’ She undid the buttons of his shirt, her tongue pressed between her lips in concentration. Pulled it away from his shoulders and tossed it away. The soft pressure of her fingers on his shoulders overwhelmed him, and Greg fell to one knee on the hearthrug in front of her.

  ‘Now you.’ His hands on her hips held her steady, and he nodded towards the vest.

  ‘Don’t you want to do it?’

  ‘I want to watch.’

  She pulled it off, shaking her head slightly to free herself. Breathing fast, but steadily, as if she was trying to pace herself. His hands put an end to that and she gasped then cried out.

  He explored the smooth skin of her arms, the lush curves of her breasts. Ran his finger down her spine, to the sensitive knot of nerves in the small of her back, and she shivered, sagging forward against his shoulder. Greg pulled at the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, and slid them down, pulling her socks off, one by one, in a slow, tender striptease.

  She pulled him to his feet, her gaze fixed on his face. Greg felt her fingers on his belt buckle, gently working it loose. Held in the luminous fire of her gaze, he felt rather than saw her undo the top button on his jeans.

  ‘Sit down.’ Greg let her back him towards an armchair, and almost collapsed into it. He wanted this. Wanted to offer his body to her in all its frailty, and let her break him and put him back together again.

  She was down on her knees, completely naked, unlacing his shoes. Carefully slipping them off, as firelight flickered across her skin, bathing it in warmth and texture. He’d never seen anything so beautiful before in his life.

  ‘Jess.’ he leaned forward to kiss her. The time was right. Pulling the heavy throw from the sofa onto the floor in front of the fire, he laid her down on it. She was pulling at the fastenings of his jeans now, and he batted her hands away. ‘Not yet, honey. This is all for you.’

  Who wouldn’t be beguiled by those words? Before he lifted her up, carrying her swiftly up the wide staircase, he’d already made good on their promise, right there in the flickering shadows of the hearth. Caresses that had made every part of her body react.

  Soft, whispered words, kisses that had made her shiver in the heat of anticipation. When his slow, steady assault on her senses had proved too much, tearing the last of her inhibitions away, he’d held her tight in his arms, as if he’d known that she’d needed some protection from the fierce power of her own desire for him.

  His bedroom was in darkness, and she wasn’t there to admire the furniture anyway. The sudden chill of the sheets when he laid her down was just another sensation, another pleasure to nerve endings that were fast becoming unable to register anything else.

  ‘Greg. I need… ’

  ‘I know what you need.’ It wasn’t just a hollow piece of male swagger. He did know what she needed. And somehow she knew just what he needed, too.

  ‘Some light.’ Before she’d said it, he had already been reaching for the switch by the bed, and a couple of lamps glowed into life.

  ‘It’s cold in here.’ He curled his body around hers, wrapping her in his warmth.

  ‘I need to breathe.’ Her need for him was so urgent that she’d almost forgotten how.

  He settled her beneath him, holding her tight. In one slow, smooth movement he was inside her, and Jess cried out. Sucked in a lungful of air and gasped it back out again as he moved.

  ‘I need you to do that again.’

  Greg had slept for a just a few blissful, unbroken hours before he woke, but it felt like more. Quietly, carefully, so as not to disturb Jess, he got out of bed and slipped on his jeans and a sweater.

  As he passed through the hallway, the clock downstairs chimed midnight. Jess had just shaken his world, along with rocking, rolling and turning it upside down. Greg made for the one place in this house where he’
d always been able to be alone and to think clearly.

  This Christmas…

  He was in love. The realisation hit Greg like a hammer, almost flattening him. But as he drifted gently forward in time, a week, then two, he rather got to like the idea. When Christmas came, his one thought was how he could make it special for Jess.

  Did his father’s company have a private jet at its disposal? Greg was sure that it probably did. He could take Jess somewhere sunny for Christmas, an island that was secluded enough for them to make love on the beach, without any fear of being discovered.

  Greg reconsidered for a moment. Was that really so practical? Maybe not up till now but, then, he’d never had Pat’s unending resourcefulness at his disposal. If anyone could locate a deserted tropical island for Christmas, Pat could.

  For the purposes of reorientation he ran through the part about making love on the beach again. Then once more, with a set of subtle but enormously rewarding amendments. He could almost taste the salt on her warm skin.

  He could afford to give Jess everything. She didn’t need to work, she could do whatever she pleased. She could travel with him, and a little charity work would appease her need to help others.

  Was he serious? The thought of Jess giving up her career in favour of sipping cocktails and doing a little charity work was about as likely as… Well, it was impossible. There had to be something else.

  There was something else. He would have to dump the company he’d inherited from his father and had been struggling to save for the last eight months, but it was surprising how good the prospect felt. That would leave him with nothing to worry about other than how tall a Christmas tree the ceilings of his apartment would allow, and nowhere else to spend his time other than with Jess. Presents in the morning, a visit to the hospital to see how the carol singers were doing, and then on to his mother’s for one of those late lunches that she did with such aplomb.