Emma beamed up at her. “Okay.”
****
Josh rubbed the back of his hand. He’d hit Lucas pretty hard if the pain in his knuckles was any indication. With a shake of his wrist, he tried to dismiss the nagging bruises and glanced back in the mirror to check his appearance.
Olivia had insisted he take his black Ralph Lauren suit. She claimed it fit him better, made his waist look trimmer. He wasn’t convinced. Surrounded by the quaint town, the expensive suit felt a bit ostentatious. Out of place. Like he was asking for attention he didn’t really want.
Too late now. He’d listened to his sister and left all his other dress clothes, except for some shirts in case he had to meet with Sandra’s backers, at home. Maybe he could find a place to stash his jacket at Mae’s. If so, he wouldn’t feel so out of place in just the white shirt, black pants, and dark-green, reindeer tie.
He had no idea what he intended to say to Lucas. A simple apology wouldn’t cut it. Besides, he didn’t particularly feel like apologizing. For whatever reason, Lucas had hidden Amanda’s marriage from him. Logical or not, that felt like a betrayal.
Quick, in and out. Say hello. Sip a little eggnog. Leave. He recited for the dozenth time.
By his calculation, he only needed a thirty-minute appearance before he could disappear, and no one would miss him. With a little luck, he’d be gone by the time Amanda and her husband arrived. He didn’t trust himself to that scenario. Wasn’t sure he wouldn’t take a swing at that guy too.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t stay in Lexington even long enough to finish Sandra’s project. Luckily, there was no real need. He could draw blueprints at home. His office was far better suited for the task than this small room. With Kansas City only an hour away, if he needed to look at the site again, he could make a quick trip back.
If it weren’t for the fact he’d have to look out his widow at the crumbled Warwick Manor and still confront memories of Amanda, he’d leave tonight. That was the only thing that had stopped him from packing his bags already.
Damn it all.
He adjusted his tie, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door.
Nothing like a bit of regret to spoil the holiday season completely.
Josh cruised slowly through town, taking his time getting to Mae’s. Seven-thirty. By now, she should have a houseful of people. Guests would arrive between seven and eight. Most would stay until near midnight. But no one left until after eight o’clock. He’d timed his arrival precisely.
Cars lined the street from the top of the block, to the end, and wound around the corner. Years ago, before Lucas had been born, Mae started this tradition as a way to garner clients for her husband’s bank. It went off with a bang. People rushed to open accounts, excited to be new enough to say they knew the owner personally. Ever since, despite the fact her husband spent the winter in Florida without her, Mae never failed to make the party into something spectacular.
As a kid, Josh remembered his parents dragging him here for the first time. That had been the night he met Luc. They’d sneaked cups of the grown-up’s eggnog until they got the giggles under the table. From that point on, they’d been inseparable.
At the memory, Josh smiled. He parked on the street behind Mae’s house and walked to her open front door. Inside, people dressed in bright colors sipped white wine, laughed, and conversed. Christmas music filtered over the din of merry voices.
Plastering his best businessman’s smile on his face—the one he used when meeting new clients—he let himself inside. The atmosphere was familiar, amicable, and in that singular minute, something inside Josh unwound. He wanted to belong. Wanted to laugh with his old friends. Wanted to be a part of this Lexington he’d forgotten.
He nodded at the smiles he passed, faces familiar, but their names long forgotten. Lucas must be in the back, hiding in the kitchen where they’d always taken refuge. Josh smirked. Somehow, he doubted Lucas was downstairs watching movies with buddies or making out with his girlfriend, Lisa.
Whatever happened to Lisa? Had she fled like so many of them? Like he had?
He’d ask.
Shouldering through the people, acknowledging the affable hellos with his own, he worked his way through the front room, to the dining room, past the long table laden with food, and peeked into the kitchen.
No Lucas.
“Uncle Lucas, put me down!” A high-pitched squeal accompanied by light, childish laughter, tinkled over the noisy crowd.
Searching for it, Josh wheeled around in time to catch Lucas lower a little girl to the ground in the next room.
At last, someone he knew.
He started through the people again, keeping his gaze on Lucas. But when he reached his target and followed his friend’s gaze to the little girl spinning a circle in the middle of the hardwood floor, Josh’s chest constricted so tightly, he thought his ribs might crack.
Little arms spread wide, long blond hair floating out behind her, she twirled on patent leather shoes. Her green dress, its velvet so dark it looked almost black, swirled around her ankles. Her laughter was bright and merry, full of the innocence only children could claim. But as she stopped, turning to look at Lucas with a giggle, her wide, dark blue eyes shone so brightly, the magic Josh had found moments earlier shattered.
It was like looking at a miniature version of Amanda.
No, there was nothing like about it. He stared at a five, six, maybe seven-year-old Amanda. Lord knew he’d seen enough photos of her to know.
A fist clamped down around his heart, and his gut doubled in on itself.
Amanda’s daughter. The daughter who was supposed to be his.
Could have been his if he’d pulled his head out of his ass when he came back here the first time.
Oh, God.
He looked to Lucas, saw the silent apology written in his friend’s eyes. The look that said he’d just realized Josh made the connection.
Clenching his jaw and tugging at his tie, Josh turned around. He couldn’t stay here. Mae would understand. He’d apologize tomorrow on his way out of town.
In his haste to get as far away as possible from the miniature Amanda and the meaning of her existence, he tripped, nearly knocking over a woman in a red dress.
Looking up, he stammered an apology that died in his throat.
Her hand on his arm, Amanda steadied him. She smiled, and he got lost in the twinkle of her unforgettable blue eyes.
“I’m sorry, Josh,” she soothed. “I didn’t see you standing there.”
One glance at where she touched him, and his skin burned beneath her palm. Her dress was stunning. Spaghetti-strapped silk that clung to her curves like a glove. He realized he’d grabbed a hold of her too, in an effort to stop his stumble. His hand fit at her hip, tucked into her slender waist, holding a bit too tight. He loosened his fingers, but he didn’t let go.
In those eyes, those captivating blue pools, something he’d tried to forget flooded into him.
With one sweeping glance, she took him in from head to toe. Bringing her gaze right back to his, her lips parted in a soft gasp. The fingers on his forearm tightened a little.
Amanda. Standing right in front of him. Touching him. Looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered, the way she had countless times before, and he’d never had the sense to treasure it.
Words bubbled up before he could stop them, a demanding, whisper that caught in his throat. “You’re married?”
She blinked. Confusion etched her delicate features, tugged at her dainty brow. It vanished as she swallowed. With a slight shake of her head, she answered just as quietly, “He’s dead.”
Josh stared.
The clamp around his heart slowly released its hold.
“Mommy.”
The little girl appeared in the corner of his vision, tugging on Amanda’s free hand. With a faltering smile, she glanced down at her miniature mirror, then he
r eyes locked with his. Something arced between them. Something fierce and powerful. Engulfing.
“Who is that, Mommy?”
Amanda glanced away, a fraction of a second before she looked back up. She took a half-step closer.
The same intoxicating aroma that made Josh think of summer on the lake wafted to his nose.
“Josh,” Amanda whispered.
He needed to say something. Anything. Acknowledge the little girl somehow. Do something so he wasn’t the speechless idiot he must look like. Except, he couldn’t make his throat work. All he could think about was Amanda. The way her chest rose as she pulled in a deep breath. The tiny pulse that bounced at her throat. The softness of her lips.
“Look, Mommy, you’re under the mistletoe. Maybe if he kisses you, you’ll stop crying. Like Cinderella.”
Josh heard the little girl’s remark distantly. But it didn’t matter. His mouth already hovered over Amanda’s, so close her breath danced against his cheek.
Seven
The clasp of Josh’s lips surged through Amanda like a live current, moving her body with it. She slid her hands to his shoulders, then behind his neck where her fingers twined through his short, shaggy, blond hair. Her back arched, flattening her against his hard chest.
Soft and warm, his mouth played against hers, exploring, teasing, urging her to yield with an enticing nibble. When she did, his tongue swept in, deepening the kiss, claiming her as his in slow, possessive strokes.
Everything inside Amanda lit up, bright and burning beneath the faint scent of his shampoo and the intoxicating softness of his lips. Heat pooled in her belly and fanned through her limbs, leaving her wholly aware of every little place they touched. From the insignificant contact of the tips of their shoes to the far more insistent hardness against her abdomen, she felt him. All of him.
His hands glided over her back, bringing her closer still. The dull hum of the surrounding guests faded. Her pride vanished as the velvety feel of his kiss eroded the last eight years.
She didn’t’ care who saw, or what had happened between them. Josh was kissing her like he never wanted to stop, and she was eighteen again, telling him with every part of her soul how much she loved him. Twenty and pouring her heart into him to soothe the pain of his father’s death. Twenty-eight and confessing she’d never stopped caring.
Exactly where she wanted to be.
“Mommy, I’m under the mistletoe too!” Emma tugged on Amanda’s dress.
With a murmur of protest, Josh eased the kiss to a lingering close. His bright, vibrant green eyes seared into Amanda, speaking intimate promises she didn’t dare consider.
She blushed under the intensity of his gaze and lowered her lashes, needing the separation to breathe.
He pulled her into a tight hug, whispering, “I’ve been away too long.”
Before she could fully catch her breath, he let her go and dropped to one knee in front of Emma. Taking her small hand in his much larger one, he lifted the back of it to his lips.
Emma giggled.
Tears brimming, Amanda watched the man she’d spent her life loving win over her little girl in that simple, gallant gesture.
“What’s your name, Princess?”
“Emma,” she answered, beaming from ear to ear.
“Well, close your eyes, Princess Emma. You must always close your eyes for a kiss.”
Amanda couldn’t move. Rooted in place by the fantastic scene, she didn’t so much as blink, afraid if she did, the magic would shatter.
Dutifully, Emma obeyed.
Josh leaned over and kissed her cheek.
Looking over Josh’s head, Amanda caught Lucas’ hard expression and closed her eyes against the mistrustful way he eyed Josh. Opening them once more, she found his gaze on her, issuing silent warning, urging her to stop this. To put Josh in his place.
She ought to, before Josh broke Emma’s heart too. But she couldn’t. She was far too spellbound, caught up in the fantasy, to do anything but bite her lip to stop from crying.
“Don’t make my mommy cry anymore, Mister Josh.”
Something fierce tugged at Amanda’s heart. She’d never wanted Emma to know. Tried hard to keep everything inside until she just couldn’t take it any longer. But her little girl knew, and her plaintive request sent Amanda’s brimming tears tumbling down her cheeks.
Josh looked up, his gaze locking with hers once more. “I’ll do my best not to, Princess Emma.”
It was too much. The hope those words sparked, despite how many times he’d promised something similar, too all-consuming. She wanted to believe. But she knew, though he might mean them, he’d never be able to honor them.
She turned and fled, elbowing through Mae’s guests to the stairs.
****
“I’ll be back, Princess Emma.” Josh smiled as he gently squeezed her hand. He rose to his full six-foot height and started after Amanda, determined not to let her run away.
He’d meant it. Emma’s innocent confession about Amanda’s tears broke a chunk off of one of his many walls. In eight years, he hadn’t stopped to consider what he’d done to Amanda. He’d put a hell of a lot of thought into the misery he created for himself, but never any into what he’d done to her.
Now, he knew. And he’d cut off limbs to never see her cry again.
As he stepped onto the stairs, a hand clamped around his arm.
Annoyed, he turned around to tell whoever wanted his attention that he’d be back. When he saw Lucas, the hard lines around his jaw, and the disapproval in his eyes, Josh scowled.
“Let her go, Josh. Don’t do this all over again.”
Josh jerked his arm free. “She’s not yours, Lucas.”
“She’s not yours either.”
By God, she would be by the time he finished talking to her. He wouldn’t leave Mae’s house any other way. “I’m going to talk to her. It’s not your concern, Luc.”
He continued up the stairs, careful to keep his steps light to control the frantic need that insisted he run. Only one door had lamplight spilling out from under it—the second on his left. He turned the handle, opening it quietly, and winced inwardly when he found Amanda sitting on the edge of the bed, bent over, and huddling into a pillow.
Stepping inside, he eased the door shut. “What does Emma mean?”
She shook her head but didn’t answer.
He longed to go to her, to take her in his arms and hold her until she couldn’t find another tear to shed. But he resisted, sensing right now she wanted nothing to do with him. The comfort would only make things worse.
“Baby, talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to say,” she murmured with a sniffle.
That did it. He yanked off his tie, strode to the bed, and sat down. Pulling her his arms, he tucked her head under his chin. “There’s a lot to say, honey.”
With another shake of her head, she protested. But a slender arm slid around his waist. She made no attempt to move. “I can’t do this again, Josh. Please don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell you that when I saw you last night I thought you’d married, and it felt like someone kicked me in the gut? When I saw Emma tonight, I felt raw inside? In the last twenty-four hours I’ve gone mad over the idea of your loving someone else? So mad I clocked Lucas? Don’t what, Amanda? Cause I have that and a whole hell of a lot more to say.”
“Please,” she whispered.
He brushed his lips over the top of her head. “There’s a lot you want to say hidden in that kiss of yours. Tell me. Tell me what’s going through your mind. What Emma meant. Why you’re shaking.”
She cried a little harder against his lapel.
Tightening one arm around her, he gently rubbed her back, absorbing her tears. He’d hold her all damn night if he had to. She felt so perfect snuggled up against him. So warm and comfortable, and all the ache he hadn’t known stemmed from her absence ebbed away. He’d spent so long without her
that he’d forgotten how she made everything right.
He leaned away and stared into her eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I meant what I said—I’ll do my best to keep you from crying anymore. Things I should have done all along.”
She stiffened. “Stop.”
Her hoarse, broken whisper clawed at his heart. He inhaled, steeling himself to the ripple of pain that accompanied it. God, if he’d known…If he’d only considered her, not himself, he wouldn’t be watching the conflicted emotions wash across her pretty face. “No, I won’t stop. I’m not going to let you hurt like that again.”
A plaintive sob tumbled from her lips.
Dipping his head, he dusted her cheeks with light kisses, wiping away the salty dampness as he worked his way toward her soft mouth.
The rigidity of her spine ebbed, and she relaxed, tipping her head up a fraction, giving him room to settle his mouth on hers. She sniffed, but she didn’t move away.
Encouraged, Josh drew her lower lip between his teeth in a gentle tug. Tracing the tip of his tongue over the soft interior, he pulled a hesitant response from her. She caught his mouth tentatively, as if she didn’t trust herself, hadn’t yet given herself permission to enjoy.
He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair as he angled her head where he wanted it and nibbled at her mouth. If it took him all night he’d do nothing more than this. Whatever she needed, he’d give, so long as she went back to that place where what lay between them was all that mattered.
Her lips parted, inviting him inside. When the tip of her tongue met his, something inside him splintered, as it had downstairs.
Amanda. Kissing him. Slowly coming to life in his hands. Gravitating closer, drawn by the same need that consumed him, yearning for all the contact they could find.
Melding into him, she wound her arms around his neck. A little murmur of pleasure bubbled in her throat.
Where she touched him, his skin tingled. The gentleness of her mouth, the soft moistness in her kiss, the lingering taste of dry white wine, all slammed into his senses with a staggering effect. Heat surged through his body. Sparks shot down his spine, pooling at the base, flooding into his groin and stiffening his cock.
All I Want for Christmas is Big Blue Eyes Page 6
