Kissing Santa Claus Page 9

  She didn’t say anything right away. Instead she looked down at where their hands were still joined, then finally, back up at him. “Okay.”

  He smiled. It was a start. That’s all he wanted. Starting meant they were moving in some direction. Together.

  Then she smiled, and reached up and cupped his face in her palm, leaned forward until her mouth was a breath away from his, and said, “So…what would be the most that you could do?”

  His heart leapt, his body beat that by double, and he completely lost his train of thought. “I—uh—”

  She laughed then, and kissed him. “It’s good to know I’m not the only one who feels occasionally discombobulated by this.”

  “No…not the only one,” he said on a short laugh. “You know, you don’t have to—”

  “I know I don’t. But after this afternoon, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it. A lot. Okay, nonstop. And I don’t know, yet, what I’m going to do. Here, in London, so many things yet to be figured out, decided on. Normally I’d want to take my time, be sure of every little thing. I’m not normally so spontaneous, especially about this.” She touched his face again. “But, like you said, now is when you’re here. And I’m here. And I want…what I want. In fact, it’s the one easy decision I’ve had to make. I don’t want regrets. I want time with you.”

  He grinned. “Have I mentioned how much I love that you’re such a decisive woman?”

  “Remember you said that.”

  He was still smiling as he walked around and helped her slide from the truck. “How about a nice bottle of wine, maybe a fire in the fireplace. And we’ll see where we end up later.”

  “I think Goldilocks never had it so good.”

  11

  Holly leaned back against the couch from her spot on the living room floor and watched Sean add more logs to the fire. He’d done nice things with the old house. Gleaming hardwood floors, fresh paint on the walls in earthy tones, leather couch and big overstuffed chair, thick woven rugs everywhere…and lots of bookcases. It was warm, decidedly masculine, but cozy and inviting. Just like the owner.

  “When do you have time to read?”

  He poked at bit at the embers. “My hours are a little crazy and sometimes I don’t get home until the wee hours. Reading helps me switch gears from all the things I have to worry about with the restaurant.”

  “I do the same thing, actually. There are these wonderful antiques and used bookstores in London. Picadilly, Notting Hill, Portobello Road. When I was particularly stressed out over a client or an account, I’d escape the office for an hour or so and head out to one or the other.”

  Finished, with the flames popping again, Sean shifted back to sit next to Holly, stretching his arm out along the seat cushions behind her. “And painting?”

  “You know, I didn’t do much of that in London itself. I saved that for my trips away. Not that there isn’t plenty of inspiration there, but—”

  “You needed to escape completely, to really indulge yourself and revel in it.”

  She looked at him, surprised. “Exactly. I always said I should start sketching, just give myself the pleasure, make room for it in my day-to-day life, but it wasn’t really the right fit there, the right balance, with the hours I work and the pressures. You’re right, I needed to block out time entirely to really enjoy it.”

  He stroked the back of her neck, her shoulder, and she knew it wasn’t really the wine that was making her feel so warm and tended to.

  “Do you miss it?” he asked. “I mean, the work, the city, browsing the shops, all of it?”

  “Yes. It’s what I know; it’s my life. Has been for a long time now. I honestly didn’t think coming back here would have any influence on how I felt about it. It’s home to me now, that’s just how it is. And I’m okay with that. If anything, I thought coming back would strengthen that feeling.”

  “Did it? You don’t miss living here? Not homesick?”

  She looked at him. “It’s not home, really. Not anymore. My folks are gone; the house is no longer ours; the shop is dark; my life, my old life anyway, really doesn’t exist.”

  “You want to go back to London, then?”

  She held his gaze for a long time and was thankful that he said nothing else, didn’t try any further to influence her thoughts. She knew, could see, the trepidation in his eyes, his face. She knew what he wanted. He was asking her, very honestly, what it was that she wanted.

  “A few days ago, I would have said yes. There really wouldn’t have been any other response to give. There is nothing for me here.” She covered his hand with her own. “Or there wasn’t anyway.”

  He wove his fingers through hers, but let her find her words. But the hope was there again, the spark of it, and it was amazing what it did to her. Every single time.

  “I came here wondering how I was going to handle what was my mother’s entire world in a way that would satisfy us both, and I honestly had no idea what that was going to be. But I can’t sit here and say that I’m dying with homesickness for London, or my job there…I do miss my friends. More important, I think, is that I miss the comfort and security of knowing who I am there, what my purpose is. I don’t know who I am here anymore and I had major doubts on knowing how to handle the decisions I had to make here.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I’m more secure about that part. I know what I want to do with the store. I’m confident it’s the right thing. I just have to work through the steps of figuring out how to make it work the best way possible, that is the best for me.”

  “And?”

  She squeezed his hand. “And then there’s you. Complicating the hell out of things. On the one hand, London offers steadiness, confidence, security. You…you tantalize me with what ifs…about us, about what there might be. You make me think, and question…everything really. My life, my passions, what I really want. You make me question if playing it safe and just staying on the path that offers me security, if not personal fulfillment, is really what I want from my life.” She looked at him, into those eyes that were so steady, at a man who was clearly willing to offer her the place and time to try to find answers to some of her questions. If she was only brave enough to try. “The time I carved out for myself to come here and resolve things…isn’t long enough for me to resolve those bigger questions. And it’s scary, terrifying really, to think I’d have to literally jump from frying pan to fire, in order to give myself a chance to find out. I can’t go back and sit in my flat in London and figure out if what I really want is here in Virginia. If I want to try and find a way to pursue art…to pursue what might be with you, I’d have to stay here. No safety net.”

  “I wish there was something I could say, or do, to make that easier for you.”

  “I know.” She touched his face. “I know you really, truly mean that. But this is up to me. A true crossroads. And…I don’t know yet.” She sat her wineglass down and shifted onto her knees, touched his face. “I don’t know that it’s fair, and I want to be fair—”

  “You’re being honest. That’s all I’ll ever ask.”

  “I know enough to know that I don’t want to go upstairs and sleep alone. I want to be with you. Spend time with you. Learn whatever I can in the time I have, to help me figure things out. I don’t want to rush…and I don’t want to waste a single moment. Is that making any sense? I know it’s terribly selfish but it’s just the truth, and I—”

  He cut her off by tugging her to him and kissing her. This time it wasn’t seductive, or soft, carnal, or sweet. This was a declaration, pure and simple. This was a man staking his claim. And he was claiming her.

  And everything in her responded to that like the proverbial heavens were opening and the angels were singing. Kind of hard to be immune to that. Not when everything in her wanted to respond with equal passion, equal determination, to claim him as her own, too. To make it clear that she was putting the world on notice, that he was what she wanted, and damn anything or anyo
ne who got in her way. In that moment, it was so crystal clear to her…if only all the moments that followed would also be so crystalline.

  He shifted them around, lowering her to the floor.

  “Sean, I can’t promise—”

  “I didn’t ask for a promise. I don’t know what you’ll do tomorrow, or two weeks from tomorrow. What I do know is that I have you right now. And you have me. For this moment in time, I’m okay with that. I’m selfish, too, Holly. If this is what I can have, then I’m not walking away. Not willingly. You gave me a choice. I choose you.”

  She pulled him down on top of her and shoved every last single doubt from her mind. No place for those tonight. Later. Much later, if she was lucky. For now, she was going to give in to what she was feeling, and show him that, give him that. She smiled. “I want this. I want you.”

  His grin was so fierce, so…primal, it made her entire body quiver in response. “I know exactly where I want you, and it’s not on this rug.” He shifted back and scooped her up into his arms before she could react.

  “Sean—”

  “Come on, Goldilocks. I think you’ll find this bed is just right.”

  The hallway, the stairs, all of it was a blur. Her heart was pounding, and it only increased when he lowered both of them into a sea of down comforters, pillows, and what had to be the most heavenly bed ever. Something of it must have shown in her expression.

  “We Irish like our fine linen and feathers.”

  “It’s a wonder you ever get out of it,” she said as he sank into the soft cloud with her.

  The twinkle in his eye was downright wicked. “I was just thinking that very same thing myself.”

  He kissed her then, and she wrapped her arms around him and let his weight sink her fully into the bed. He kissed her with such intent, so steady, so constant, so…perfect. His hands on her were confident, but also almost reverent. He didn’t pause, didn’t question, but he made her feel cherished, indulged. She wasn’t even sure how or when each piece of their clothing came off—they seemed to melt away under clever fingers—she only knew that when she felt his warm, bare skin caressing hers, covering hers, she felt like she really had found heaven. Her heaven, anyway.

  He started shifting his kisses from her mouth to her chin and she knew where he was leading this, and she was all for that…next time. Right now she wanted all of him, right where she needed him most, and she shifted beneath him moving her hips.

  “I want so much more of this,” he murmured against her lips. “I feel like I’m starving, only I don’t know exactly where to begin the buffet.”

  She laughed, then shifted her hips directly under his. “How about here…we’ll go back for appetizers and dessert later.”

  He moved just enough to grab at the drawer handle of the nightstand. “I’m already protected,” she said, “and…it’s okay, if you’re—”

  “I’m okay, too.”

  She smiled up at him. “Then come here.”

  “Have I mentioned how I like it when you’ve made up your mind about something?”

  She smiled at that, and he slipped his arm under her back, beneath her hips, lifting her so effortlessly, but so her shorter body matched the longer length of his, where he could tease her, nudging her, and still kiss her at the same time. He paused, just as he began to push into her. “Holly…”

  She was gripping his shoulders, but slid one hand to his face, touched his cheeks, his chin, ran her finger over his lips. “What?” she whispered.

  His grin was slow and devastating and made her instinctively push up, taking him a tiny bit deeper inside of her. “This might just be my best Christmas ever,” he said.

  She surprised herself by laughing. “Me, too. Christmas and birthday, all in one.” Then she wrapped one leg around his hips and lifted herself onto him, making him groan as he slid the rest of the way inside of her.

  He was careful, with his larger size, her smaller frame, but they quickly found their rhythm, and laughter faded to soft moans, deep growls, and eventually, slowly, labored breathing and damp, heated skin, and climbing faster, and faster still. He tucked her up more firmly against his hips so he could sink deeper and connect her to him in a way that made him push her past that shimmering edge into the long, indescribable shudder of pleasure. Wave upon wave of it, until she felt him gather, and moved with him, tightening around him as if it were the most natural thing to do, taking him over the edge just as effortlessly and perfectly as he’d done with her.

  He was careful not to collapse his weight on top of her, not that she thought she’d have minded. She couldn’t breathe anyway. Aftershocks were still tremors of exquisite sensation after exquisite sensation and her mind was everywhere and nowhere, all at the same time.

  Their breathing gradually slowed, and she felt him search for her hand and weave his fingers through hers, then closing his hand around hers, so much bigger, so strong, so steady. Until she felt that slight tremor…and realized that maybe she was a steadying force for him, too. Something about that single gesture, as they lay there spent from ridiculously perfect first-time lovemaking…was the most intimate part of the entire act, and what had tears gathering sweetly at the corners of her eyes.

  But before she could worry about them, or how he might interpret them, he was pulling her closer, tucking her against his broad chest. And she felt both of their bodies relax as if taking a huge, unwinding sigh of contentment. They both yawned at the same time, laughed sleepily at themselves, and snuggled more closely together.

  “I have to leave early. Around five,” he said drowsily. “Market—have to buy produce. You can stay here. Long as you want.”

  Stay. How wonderful that sounded, she thought. At that moment, she never wanted to leave. Holly slipped her arm across his waist, pushing away all real-world concerns for just a bit longer. “Mmm,” was all she managed before letting sleep claim her.

  She ended up waking before he did. It wasn’t even dawn yet. In fact, she had no idea what time it was, but the hint of light that filtered in through the slatted wooden blinds was still moonlight. She sat up, pulling the soft sheets and thick comforters around her when the chill of the air away from Sean’s big, warm body pebbled her skin. Sean. She shifted so she could look at him. So big, warm, wonderful…sweet, amazing…and hers. The pure affection that coursed through her wasn’t something she could deny, even if she couldn’t rationally explain the depth or power of it. Sex, lust…maybe. But it didn’t feel that way to her. Not solely, anyway. He’d touched her in far deeper, more intimate ways than anyone ever had, and most of those moments hadn’t taken place in this bed, but sitting in the cab of his truck, standing by the counter of her shop, or lounging by the fire in his living room.

  A smile stole across her face as she continued to watch him sleep. She had no idea how much time passed, but the urge to grab a pencil and paper, to sketch, to draw, to paint, sitting right there, in the bed, was almost overwhelming. It made her fingers twitch, the urge was so strong. She must have made some sound, because he reached out, eyes still closed, and found her and pulled her to him.

  “Hey, you,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “Come here.”

  She moved into his arms like they had danced this particular dance many, many times. For the difference in their sizes, they’d found a comfort with each other’s bodies remarkably swiftly, and their rhythm was just as easy and natural this time as it had been before. And that’s where her thoughts ended, as Sean started making love to her again.

  When she woke again…he was gone. She sat up, certain the grin on her face was quite smug and satisfied. And she was okay with that. She gathered her clothes and dressed, then sat back down on the edge of the bed again, and thought about the night they’d just spent together. And asked herself if going back to London was what she really wanted. Or just what was easiest. Safest. And if she didn’t go back to London…then what?

  She found a note from Sean and keys to his other vehicle, which was his parents�
�� old car, on the kitchen counter. It all felt so…natural, so easy. Could it be so easy? Well, the relationship with Sean part seemed like it would be…but what in the hell was she supposed to do with the rest of her life if she moved back here?

  Her thoughts weren’t any clearer by the time she got back to the shop, and while the meeting later that morning with the estate lawyer did answer a great many of her questions about handling the shop lease, she felt like her head might explode with all the things she still had on her mind. That was when she found the diary and remembered the bombshell discovery of the day before.

  And, without thinking too long or hard about it, she grabbed Sean’s keys, grabbed the diary, and took off toward St. Francis. She realized it for the procrastination maneuver it was, but who knew? Maybe getting a few answers about someone else’s life would put her own into better perspective.

  12

  It was funny how quickly Sean had come to think about Holly in the course of his everyday life. She hadn’t even been back a week, but it already felt like she’d always been in the back of his mind, even as the organized pandemonium that was his life swirled around him, both jarring and comforting. Sometimes, the greater the uproar or hubbub, the more he thought about her…and it surprised him how much easier just thinking about her smile, or the way she arched into him when he kissed that spot just above her collarbone, made the insanity of the world that was running a restaurant that much easier to sort through and maintain.

  Just as he caught himself in yet another highly detailed daydream, and thought about trying her cell again, there was a tap at his office door. Without waiting, Mick stuck his head in.

  Sean looked up. “You know, it’s customary, after the knock, to wait for—”

  “Pretty lady to see you, boy-o. I thought you might want to cut down on the formalities.”