His body on fire, he watched her greet Magic and her kittens, refilling their food bowl before she disappeared inside. Matt shook himself from the spell of her kiss and unlashed the fir tree from the back of the ATV. He hauled the fir to the family room while Holly heated a kettle of water for hot chocolate. When she brought him a steaming mug of cocoa, complete with tiny marshmallows, he chuckled.
“Palmer always loved to pile marshmallows in her hot chocolate.”
She gave him a satisfied nod. “I can’t blame her. Cocoa without marshmallows is just…” She waved a hand searching for the right word.
“Hot chocolate milk?” he suggested.
“Well, yeah! I was going to say it was un-American or a sacrilege or something. Cocoa needs marshmallows,” she stated, a conviction blazing in her eyes as if she were arguing a deeply held political belief.
She punctuated her declaration by taking a sip of her drink and humming her satisfaction. Her pleasured sigh sang through his veins and conjured images of sweaty bodies tangled together in the throes of passion.
A sweet foam clung to her upper lip when she lowered her mug, and Matt’s body quickened when she licked it off. His thoughts flashed back to their brief kiss, and he balled his hands at his sides to keep from reaching for her.
Holly lifted her mug in a salute. “I’m feeling warmer already.”
He sent her a wry smile and averted his gaze. “Yeah, me, too.”
She drank again then set her cup aside. “Okay, let’s get to work. The tree stand is in that blue box. If you’ll hold the tree straight, I’ll wiggle underneath and screw it in.”
Doing his best to ignore the many double entendres possible in her last statement, Matt nodded, downed another gulp of cocoa and retrieved the stand. Although he was trying to be a gentleman, trying to keep their friendship platonic, trying to protect her from a deeper involvement that could hurt her later, a man had his limits.
If she gave him so much as a hint that she wanted him as much as he hungered for her, all bets were off.
After they’d secured the tree in its stand, Holly filled the water trough and left the tree to soak up some hydration before they started decorating. Instead she turned her attention to arranging sprigs of holly with red bows on the mantel and winding pine garlands around the staircase banister.
Matt helped her pose the nativity figures and place Santa memorabilia around the house. By evening, the house was filled with festive decorations and the savory scent of the beef stew she’d had simmering in her Crock-Pot.
She whipped up a batch of corn bread to go with the stew, and she and Matt ate their dinner by a crackling fire in the family room.
As she enjoyed her meal, Holly reflected on the day. Spending time with Matt, sharing her family traditions with him, had made the holiday preparations special.
Even knowing how much Christmas meant to her, Ryan had never helped her decorate the house like Matt had today. Ryan had always begged off, claiming he had too much work to finish for a case or swearing he couldn’t possibly miss whatever football game was on TV. He’d indulged her Christmas fanaticism but rarely participated.
Sharing the decorating with someone this year had made the process infinitely more fun and memorable—a blessing, considering how lonely the holiday could have felt in the wake of Ryan’s death. Last year, her first holiday season without him, had been empty and almost more than she could bear.
After cleaning up their dishes, Holly returned to the family room with fresh mugs of spiced cider and handed Matt a cup. Turning, she started one of her favorite Christmas CDs playing softly in the background. “A little mood music while we decorate the tree?”
Matt smiled warmly. “You really are a Christmas nut.”
“I am the whole Christmas fruitcake when it comes to decorating and baking and keeping traditions like kissing under the mistletoe.”
Matt arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you have mistletoe in that box? That’s one holiday tradition I could get enthused about.”
He waggled his eyebrows mischievously, and she laughed.
“I don’t do fake mistletoe. We have to go back into the woods and collect some real mistletoe later.”
He barked a laugh and shook his head. “And why didn’t we collect it this morning while we were already out freezing our butts off?”
She braced her hands on her hips and gave him a playful scowl. “So sue me. I forgot.” She tipped her head and appraised him. “How are you at climbing trees?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I have a better idea. Find me a BB gun, and I’ll shoot some mistletoe down for you.”
“Spoilsport.” She jabbed his arm and laughed again. “Okay, lights first.”
“Lights,” he groaned. “I suppose you even like hanging the lights, tangles, burned-out bulbs and all?”
“I simplify things by keeping new strands of lights handy if anything goes wrong with the previous year’s string. But yeah, I love the lights most. They’re my favorite part of the tree.”
She took one end of the coiled lights and began unwinding the cord as she draped twinkling lights on the evergreen branches. The pine scent of the tree filled her nose, and her spirits soared. Memories of decking the tree with her sisters flooded her mind, and she smiled to herself.
Then a fresh, soapy scent joined the aroma of pine, and Matt’s arms reached around her to help secure the dangling strand of lights she juggled.
For weeks she’d worked beside Matt scraping, painting, hammering and sanding without losing her head, but the sentimentality of decorating her tree, the evocative smells and cherished memories associated with her holiday traditions left her emotions raw and vulnerable. His sexy scent made her light-headed, and the brush of his chest against her back when he moved in close to assist her with a tangle of wires sent her own circuits haywire. His body heat enveloped her, both filling her with a deep-seated peace and security and making her pulse race. Holly didn’t miss the significance of that dichotomy.
Kenny G’s sultry saxophone playing in the background only heightened the heady romanticism of the moment. Holly was sure Matt could hear the thump of her heart as they worked their way around the tree, arranging the lights and securing the strands on the branches.
By the time they finished, her head spun, and her breathing had grown shallow and quick. She gulped a few restorative lungfuls of oxygen as she retrieved the first box of ornaments.
Matt cleared his throat. “Palmer and Miles would have loved this. All the decorating. Cutting down the tree.” He paused, his eyes sad. “Did I tell you that I tried to call my kids yesterday?”
She caught her breath. “And?”
He shook his head. “Jill’s mother answered. It got ugly fast, and when I tried to call back, no one answered. She probably unplugged the phone.”
Holly sighed, her shoulders sloping. “Matt, I’m sorry. Don’t give up. Things are turning around for you, and I know that in time, you’ll get your children back, too.”
“God, I hope so.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head as if shaking off the serious mood. He pointed toward the storage box. “What ya got there?”
Holly popped the top off the plastic storage box and dug into the bubble-wrapped ornaments. Lifting out a couple, she handed one to Matt. “I’ve always felt like decorating the house was almost as much fun as opening gifts on Christmas morning.”
He cocked his head as he peeled back the protective wrapping on the ornament she’d handed him. “How do you figure that?”
“Well…” She grinned and made a show of parting the wrappings from her bundle slowly and carefully. “Taking the decorations out of the storage box is a little like opening lots of tiny presents. And each decoration holds a special memory from when it was purchased or given as a gift. Every ornament has a story, a special meaning for me. It’s like reliving Christmases past.” She extracted a clear glass angel. “Take this one, for example. Ryan and I bought it on a shopping trip in Chattanooga when
we were first married.”
Matt glanced at the angel. “It’s lovely.” He held up the ornament he’d just unwrapped. “What’s the story here? A birthday cake?”
“Ah, that is the oldest and most special ornament of all! My parents gave me that on my fifth birthday. See, I was born on December twenty-fourth—”
Matt’s head came up, his expression reflecting surprise at this news.
“—and I was feeling a little forgotten in the shadow of all the Christmas activities that year. When I opened it, my dad told me my birthday could never be forgotten, because I was the best Christmas present he ever got.”
When she paused, reflecting, Matt smiled. “And your name—Holly—”
“Is proof that my parents have a sense of humor. My full name is Holly Noel Bancroft Cole.” She tapped ba-dump-dum with her hands on the top of one of the storage boxes like a drummer after a stand-up’s joke, and Matt chuckled. “With a Christmas Eve birthday, how could I not love Christmas?”
“How indeed.” Matt smiled and motioned toward the tree with the birthday cake ornament. “May I?”
“I’d be honored.” She followed him and hung the glass angel on a top bough. Moving back to the box, she lifted out more hand-painted balls, lacy linen snowflakes and homemade clothespin reindeer. She was grinning to herself, remembering the lopsided aluminum foil star Zoey made one year for the top of the tree, when Matt’s hand closed around hers. He tugged her into his arms, and when she gave him a curious look, he smiled. “Dance with me?”
Kenny G was playing a slow, sultry version of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” from her speakers, and as the evening darkened outside, the twinkling of lights from the tree cast the family room in a golden glow. The moment had a fairy-tale quality, and when Matt pulled her into his arms, Holly’s breath rushed from her lungs. His hand settled at the base of her spine as he took the first shuffling steps of a slow dance, and a sweet tingling raced over her skin.
She placed her free hand on his shoulder, moving stiffly in his embrace. Her head struggled past the awkwardness of their employer/employee relationship, but her heart lunged full speed into this new intimacy. Holly’s pulse pounded in her head, drowning out all but the sweet, low humming near her ear as Matt accompanied the sax on the CD. She swayed slowly with him, snuggling closer with each step, until her body pressed against his. Matt stroked her spine, stirring a flurry of sensation low in her belly. Her body throbbed as dormant desires pulsed through her blood. The steady drum of his heart next to hers reverberated through her chest. She clutched the soft cotton of his flannel shirt at his back and nestled her head on his shoulder. Matt’s sexy scent, his warm embrace, his strength surrounded her, flowed through her, intoxicated her.
As they danced across her floor, she couldn’t imagine anywhere else she’d rather be at that moment. With Matt she’d found a comfort and happiness she hadn’t known in a long time.
As the song ended, far too soon for Holly’s liking, she leaned back to glance up at his face, admiring the rugged angles highlighted by the warm lights of the Christmas tree. His eyes met hers and heated.
When he traced the curve of her jaw with a crooked knuckle, she tipped her head, savoring his gentle caress and sighing her contentment with the peaceful moment.
His hand slid to her chin, and he angled her face toward his. Moved closer. His intent blazed in his eyes, and Holly could only hold her breath in anticipation as he dipped his head.
Chapter 10
When Matt pressed his lips tenderly against hers, his kiss sizzled through her. With a mewl of approval, she rose on her toes to deepen their embrace. Her arms tightened around him, encouraging him, and she slid her fingers up his spine into his thick hair.
“Holly,” he rasped as he cupped his palms against her cheeks and angled his head for a deeper kiss. A rumble of satisfaction issued from his throat when she swept her tongue into his mouth to duel with his. The heavy beat that her heart had pounded as they danced now thundered, shaking her to the core. Her skin flushed hot, and a coil of desire tightened inside her.
She tasted the cinnamon and cloves of the spiced cider on his lips and longed to savor Matt’s kiss for hours.
But the jarring ring of her phone jangled from the kitchen. Startled, she gasped as she jerked back from his embrace. She lifted a hand to her chest, as if she could muffle the staccato pulse of her racing heart, and gave him an apologetic look.
She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to talk to anyone. She wanted only to step back into Matt’s arms and continue the heavenly kiss.
Later she would analyze what this turn in their relationship meant, where they might be heading, what she was supposed to do with her growing feelings for Matt. Right now, she only wanted to feel. Because with Matt, she felt more alive, more hopeful, more at peace than she had since the sheriff’s deputy arrived at her door to inform her Ryan’s body had been found in an abandoned church in town.
The harsh ringing continued, and Matt stroked her cheek, a resigned expression tempering the heat in his gaze. “Maybe you should get that. It could be important.”
“Not as important as what we were doing.” She leaned into him, squeezing a handful of his shirt and brushing a soft kiss along his jaw. And knowing the magical, impulsive moment had passed.
Matt tugged up the corner of his mouth in his heart-stopping lopsided grin. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
He stepped away and pulled another ornament from the box to hang on the tree.
The incessant ring of her phone continued, and with a sigh, Holly trotted into the kitchen to answer the annoying summons. “Hello?”
“Have you heard anything from Zoey?” her older sister said without preamble or greeting.
Holly chuckled. “And hello to you, too, Paige.”
“Well, have you?”
Hearing the distress in her sister’s voice, Holly sobered. “Should I have?”
“Well, I was hoping—Holly, she took off a few days ago, and we haven’t heard from her. She and Dad had a fight about…oh, something. I don’t know. You know how Zoey is, how reckless and impulsive she can be. We’ve called and called, but she doesn’t answer her cell. We’re really getting worried about her.”
Holly sank down onto a kitchen chair and raked her fingers through her hair. “You don’t have any idea where she’s gone? She’s not at any of her friends’ houses?”
“We’ve tried everyone we can think of, even her friend Gage Powell. I was hoping that maybe she’d gone up there to stay with you.” Paige, who could normally be relied on to keep a cool head, sounded at her wit’s end. “Please tell me she’s called you.”
“I wish I could.” Holly racked her brain, searching for some new possibility to offer concerning her younger sister’s whereabouts. Zoey had always been impulsive, impractical and a bit of a drama queen, but it wasn’t like her to take off without being in communication with someone in the family. Holly hoped that when Zoey had had a chance to calm down a bit, she would call one of her older sisters. “You don’t have any idea what the fight was about?”
“Dad said something about her new boyfriend. I don’t think he likes the guy much.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “So what else is new? When has Dad ever liked the men we choose?”
“He liked Ryan.”
“I think Ryan just grew on him after a while. When I first brought him home, Ryan was just that guy who was stealing his daughter. You know Dad. Nobody is good enough for his daughters.”
“Well…I think he likes Brent. Correction, he loves Brent.”
Holly heard her sister sigh and wondered if the fatigue she heard in her sister’s voice could be completely attributed to Zoey’s disappearance. “Try not to worry too much about Zoey. She’s a big girl, and even though she’s flaky at times, she knows how to take care of herself. I’ll let you know if I hear from her. In the meantime, you take care of yourself, Paige. Don’t wear yourself out, planning this wedding and
trying to be Ms. Perfect.”
“I’m not—” Paige stopped abruptly and gave a short humorless laugh. “Okay, so maybe I am. I just want this wedding to be—”
“Perfect?” Holly asked, smiling.
Paige huffed, and Holly could picture her sister scowling. The only thing Paige hated more than imperfection, was being teased for her perfectionism. “You’ll let us know if you hear from Zoey?”
“Of course.” Holly finished her call with her sister and made her way back to the family room, where Matt was still decorating the tree.
He took one look at her face and asked, “Something wrong?”
“My sister Zoey took off, and Paige hasn’t heard from her. She’s worried and wanted to know if I’d heard from her.” Holly bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. “I tried to reassure Paige, but I have to admit, Zoey taking off like this has me worried, too. It’s a bit rash, even for Zoey. Apparently she had a fight with my dad a few days ago, and no one has heard from her since.”
Matt slid the loop at the top of a pinecone angel on a bough and gave Holly a sympathetic look. “You’re close to your sisters, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Not as close now as I was when we were in high school. Sometimes I feel a bit isolated from my family living so far away from them. But we talk by phone, as often as possible. I guess that’s why Zoey’s disappearance bothers me. I’d have thought she’d call me, to complain about the fight with Dad, if nothing else. But she hasn’t.”
“Anything I can do?” Matt stepped toward her, and the compassion in his eyes burrowed deep and stirred a warmth in Holly’s chest.
She shook her head and gave him a forlorn smile. “Help me put the star on top? I’m too short without a ladder.”
“Sure.”
Holly brushed the protective packing materials away from her heirloom tree-topper and offered it to him. She stepped back for a better view, helping with verbal directions until the star was straight, then taking in the beauty of the finished product.
Matt joined her, and sliding an arm around her shoulders, he appraised their handiwork. “Not bad.”
The Christmas Stranger Page 11
