12 Men for Christmas
Page 22
“Yes?” he whispered, so close now that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.
“What is your middle name?”
“Now that will have to remain my secret—until our wedding day.”
She knew he was feeling better when he took her in his arms and kissed her.
Epilogue
Will flicked off the TV remote control with a sigh. That was the third time he’d seen that damn interview this weekend. On the early morning news bulletin too! Good God, everyone in Bannerdale must have seen it by now.
He’d never liked giving speeches, even in business meetings, and to be featured on television talking about his part in a nude calendar was excruciating.
“I’m useless at giving interviews. I always come across as a bit of a cynic.” Shivering in the chilly air, he slid back under the duvet, pulling Emma down with him and holding her against his naked body to keep him warm. “I wish you’d do them all.”
“We made a bargain, Will, and you know they don’t want to see me. They want to see Mr. December in the flesh,” she said, resting her cheek on his bare chest. “Look on the bright side. I think every woman in Bannerdale has bought at least one calendar, and we’re already into the third print run. I even had an email from a production company the other day. They want to make a documentary about the team.”
“No way!”
“It’ll wait until we get back,” she said, laughing.
“Haven’t I got enough to do? Work starts on the outdoor center in a few weeks.”
He felt his knee throb. It didn’t hurt so much nowadays, but after another night of energetic lovemaking, he could certainly feel it. On the other hand, there were compensations. Cupping one of Emma’s breasts in his hand, he wondered if they had time for one more glorious session. He dipped his head to swirl the tip of his tongue around the pink peak of her nipple.
“The answer’s no,” she whispered, trying to resist the familiar tingle as it spread outward from her breasts through her body. “There isn’t time.”
Kicking at the duvet, she tried to get up but found his arms around her waist, pulling her back into bed.
“I think there is.”
“No. We really have to get up.”
She had no chance really. Six feet three inches of hard muscle and power imprisoned her benignly in his arms. Even with his dodgy leg, resistance was futile.
She gave it up as a bad job. And so what if they were late? Let everyone else wait.
Half an hour later, as Will collapsed back against the pillows, Emma reluctantly tore herself out of his embrace and out of their four-poster bed.
She padded naked across the bedroom carpet and threw open the curtains. Out on the frozen lawn, a skittering of snow dusted the frost-spiked grass. In the distance, snow lay on the tops of the fells, softening their jagged peaks against a powder-blue sky. With just a few days to Christmas, the Lake District had obliged with a perfect winter day, and she felt light-headed with happiness.
Will untangled his long limbs from the duvet and came over to the window. She felt his arms encircle her shoulders.
“Beautiful.”
She nodded, the breath catching in her throat. Butterflies stirred in her stomach. His touch still and always would have the power to make her ache with anticipation.
“Shame your brother and his family couldn’t make it,” he observed, touching the back of her neck with his lips.
“Yes,” she sighed, trying to hide her disappointment by gazing out the window over the lake. Steve’s absence was the only tiny blot on an otherwise perfect day. “It won’t be the same without them, but Gina’s baby’s due next week, and there’s no way they’d let her fly. Plus, there are the girls to look after,” she added.
The water danced in the winter sunshine as she watched the wavelets break against the jetty. When she turned, Will had gone. She felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t been listening but smiled when she caught sight of the beautiful ivory gown and matching cloak hung on the closet door. She had to think about getting ready in a moment. Bannerdale church, freshly decorated in holly and ivy, awaited. Soon her parents and Will’s mother would be arriving, along with Max and Francine—with baby Olivier of course—the rescue team, her London friends. Just about everyone, in fact, would be there, all waiting for her to walk in on Will’s arm.
Under the circumstances, no one had dared question why a bride and groom wanted to spend the night before their wedding together or why they would be walking up the aisle together in an unconventional way.
But Will didn’t want to do things the traditional way.
A creak from the bedroom door told her he was back. Then a warm, big hand closed on her shoulder and spun her around to face him. His dark eyes were gleaming as he handed her a stiff white envelope.
“Here. I was going to give you this at the reception, but I think you should open it now.”
Never one to savor unwrapping her presents, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a pair of airline tickets. A slow smile spread across her face. He couldn’t have given her a more wonderful present.
“Will…”
His hands were cupping her face now, his head dipping for a sweet, long kiss that drank her in until she felt dizzy with joy.
“It’s summer in New Zealand,” he was saying. “We can stay for four weeks over Christmas and New Year. I fixed it with your boss. You can see Steve and Gina and the girls. And the new baby.”
Her stomach flipped. A brand-new life.
Will’s hands moved to her waist again, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“We can even fit in some bungee jumping—tandem.”
A small smile curved her lips, and she shook her head.
He lifted an eyebrow. “No?”
“No,” she echoed firmly.
“I think you can. You can do anything if you try. Haven’t I taught you that?”
“Will. No bungee jumping. Trust me on this.”
He was half teasing, half serious as he persisted. “What excuse can you possibly have for not giving it a go? If you don’t do it in New Zealand, you never will.”
“Maybe one day,” she said huskily. “But not this time.” She stood on tiptoe and whispered two words in his ear. Two words she hoped would be the best wedding gift she could ever give him.
His sharp intake of breath told her all she needed to know. She found herself enfolded in his arms, the breath almost being squeezed out of her by the ferocity of his love.
“Oh God,” he murmured. “Oh, I mean that’s wonderful, Emma.” He took another deep breath and released his pressure on her body before asking, shakily, “When, sweetheart?”
“The end of June, according to the doctor. So you see, the bungee jumping will have to wait.”
“It can wait forever,” he replied. “Emma, I love you so much. Both of you.”
“And I love you Will—absolutely.”
Acknowledgments
Special thanks go to…
Ash Cooper of the Langdale & Ambleside Mountain Rescue Team for answering my questions with humor and patience and to Phil Barber for the rappelling advice and instruction. Any errors are entirely my own.
Mum and Dad, Barbara and Charles, Janice Hume, Rosy Thornton, and Julie Haggar for the support and doing the ironing. Claire S. for the great critiques. Annette, Sarah, Clare, Gill, Glenda, Steph, Maggie, and all my friends at C19 for their faith in me.
Catherine Cobain at Headline for the brilliant editing, and Broo Doherty at Wade & Doherty for just being brilliant.
Finally, to John and Charlotte who lived every word of this with me. As Steve Ovett used to say: ILY.
About the Author
Phillipa Ashley studied English language and literature at Oxford University before working as a freelance copywriter and journalist. She lives in an E
nglish village with her husband and daughter. Visit phillipa-ashley.com.
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