“Hello? Desiree? Are you still there?”
I gasp as I pull back. “Shoot,” I say, remembering I’m still on the phone with Jackie.
Neil slowly moves his gaze from my face to the phone in my left hand. With a twinkle in his eyes, he removes the phone from my hand and lifts it to his ear.
“Jackie?”
A beat of silence.
“It’s me. How’s Williamsport treating you?”
I can’t hear Jackie’s response, but Neil lets out a deep chuckle, his eyes still holding mine.
“Yeah, glad to hear it. Listen, Desiree’s going to be tied up the rest of the evening.” Again, he pauses before saying, “Will do.” He lowers the phone, pressing the End Call button before stepping fully into my apartment and shutting the door behind him.
“Jackie says she’ll give you a call in a few days.”
I place my hand on my hips. “How do you know I was done with our call?”
He smirks. “I doubt you want Jackie to hear what I plan on doing to you,” he says right before lunging for me. He captures my mouth with his again and grips my hips with his hands, pulling me entirely into his body.
A tingling starts in my fingertips, moving up the length of my arms, and before I know it, it’s warming my entire belly. I intertwine my hands around Neil’s neck, anchoring myself to him and letting my fingers play in the long strands of his hair.
He walks us against a wall, and his hands begin to push up underneath the sweater I’m wearing, but I force myself to pull back.
“No, we can’t get too carried away right now. You said you were going to help me finish these cookies so I can mail them out first thing in the morning.”
“Did I say that?” He trails his nose down the length of my neck, stopping every inch or so to plant a kiss here or there.
“Y-Yes,” I manage to whisper. “Neil.”
He plants one final kiss on the same spot that always sends a shiver throughout my body before pulling back. “I did make you a promise. And I pride myself on being a man of my word.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
I pivot on my heels and head into my tiny kitchen, feeling him directly behind me. “It’s going to get hot in here. I suggest you take that off.” I nod in the direction of his body toward the coat he’s still wearing.
“Desi, I barely managed to keep myself from mauling you in your living room. If you want these damn cookies baked, I’d suggest you choose your words more carefully.”
I smirk as I bite my bottom lip, staring at the warning gleam in his eyes. However, he does as I’ve said and removes his coat, carrying it out to the living room. Meanwhile, I take off the sweater, leaving me in a white camisole and jeans. Turning on the oven to let it preheat, I gather the ingredients from my counter.
“What’re we starting with?” Neil asks as he re-enters the kitchen.
Glancing over my shoulder, I take in the way he fills out the dark blue T-shirt he must’ve had on underneath the black sweater I saw peeking out under his coat.
“The chocolate truffle cookies because they take the longest, and I already prepared the dough for the gingerbread cookies. I’ve been letting it sit out since I got home from work. We’ll end with the chocolate chip cookies since those I can practically do with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back.”
I turn when I hear Neil make what sounds like a painful groan behind my back.
“Babe,” he says, approaching me and dropping his arms to my bare shoulders. He squeezes a little. “Now you’re talking about tying hands behind your back. You don’t want me to let you finish making these cookies, do you?” He lowers, dropping a kiss to the back of my neck.
I shiver and laugh at the same time. “My bad. I’ll try to be more careful about my wording as we work.”
“That’s all I ask. Don’t want you pissed at me because your orders went out late.”
I shake my head. “Maybe this will do the trick. Alexa, play my Christmas list.” It doesn’t take long for the air to fill with the sounds of Christmas music. I added everything from Mariah Carey to Michael Bublé to Donnie Hathaway and even some TLC in there. I love Christmas music, especially while in the kitchen creating.
“Okay, for these, I need you to stir together all of the dry ingredients,” I tell Neil.
“I don’t usually like being told what to do, but you … I’ll let you boss me around.” Leaning down, he plants a quick kiss on my lips.
We busy ourselves with stirring, mixing, and adding from one bowl to another. Truthfully, I could’ve done all of this on my own. Most of the time, I prefer to be in the kitchen by myself. However, with Neil, I don’t mind. His presence adds something that I never even realized was missing.
For the most part, he stands back and watches me as I work, which is what I prefer, though I don’t want him to leave. Even with my back to him and my attention on making the gingerbread men with my cookie cutter, I can feel his eyes on me. His gaze is like a caress all along the backside of my body. However, I don’t dare turn around to look at him. If I do, finishing these cookies and getting these orders out will be the last thing on my mind.
“You’ve got a lot done,” he says minutes later when I place the last batch of gingerbread cookies into the oven. He presses his front body against my back, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“We got a lot done.”
He makes a disparaging noise at the back of his throat. “Let’s be real, Desi, you could’ve gotten all of this done without my help. Probably faster, too.”
Laughing, I turn to face him. “But it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.” Reaching up on my tiptoes, I brush my lips against his.
“I know something else that’ll be fun.” The huskiness of his tone makes it clear what he has in mind.
“We still have about ten minutes until the cookies finish. Then I have to let ’em cool before icing them.”
Neil sighs. “What I plan on doing to you will take a hell of a lot longer than ten minutes.”
I giggle and turn to increase the volume on the Christmas music still playing. Neil and I don’t make it to my bedroom for some time, but we spend the next ten minutes in my kitchen dancing in one another’s arms to Christmas music. We’ve spent the last eight or so Friday nights out, visiting different restaurants or taking in tree lightings and light shows. Still, none of them is better than slow dancing in his embrace in my tiny kitchen with the smell of holiday cookies wafting in the air.
“Oh,” I yell out, startled the following morning by a knocking on my door.
“Are you expecting someone?” Neil questions in his deliciously deep voice, thick with sleep due to the early morning hour.
I look at the clock on my nightstand to see that it’s not even seven in the morning. “No. The delivery service I use for the cookies isn’t supposed to be here until 9:30.”
Before I can fully rise from the bed, Neil is on his feet, pulling up his jeans and heading out the bedroom door. I stand and toss on my white silk robe and push my feet into my fluffy slippers to follow him.
“Mom,” I say, surprised by her presence as Neil opens the door.
My mother appears as shocked as I am as she stands there with widened eyes, looking Neil up and down.
Admittedly, he is a sight for sore eyes, standing there shirtless, in only a pair of dark denim jeans.
“Neil McKenna?” she breathes out, as if she can’t believe she’s come face-to-face with him once again.
“Mrs. Jackson, how nice to meet you again.”
My mother blinks before turning to me. There’s a series of questions in her chocolate eyes.
“Mom, what are you doing here? So early, at that?” I question, not wanting to get into a full explanation right now.
“I stopped by last weekend to surprise you for lunch, and you weren’t home. I thought I’d do the same for breakfast. It seems I'm the one who’s surprised.” She takes another dubious look at Neil before entering my apart
ment.
I toss him an apologetic look and turn my attention to my mother. “It’s a little early, don’t you think?” I ask, tightening my robe around my body.
“I’ll make us all some coffee,” Neil says in that reassuring tone of his. I don’t know how he always comes across as the presence of calm, but he does and seemingly with little effort.
I turn to my mother, who’s firm gaze is glued to Neil’s back until he disappears into the kitchen. The gleam in her eyes isn’t a friendly one. She finally turns, looking me up and down, obviously taking in what my being dressed in only a robe early in the morning with a man in my apartment means.
There’s nothing for me to be ashamed of. I’ve lived on my own for many years. Yet, there’s something about the disapproval of my mother that causes a heaviness to settle in my chest.
“You were saying something about breakfast,” I start when the silence goes on for too long.
My mother gives me a sharp nod. “Your father’s on one of his weekend fishing trips, so I figured it would be a great idea for you and me to spend the morning together.”
I run my fingers through my unruly curls. I’m sure the high puff I’d worn the day before is entirely lopsided and undone, considering the night Neil and I had. Not wanting to be reminded of last night’s events as I stand in front of my mother, I shake those thoughts loose and glance up at my mother.
“Well, Neil and I had plans for the day,” I respond.
“Neil.” There’s almost a sneer in her voice as she says his name.
I stand up a little straighter, feeling defensive as I wrinkle my brow at her.
“What about dinner then?”
I shake my head, but before I can respond, Neil answers, “We’re attending the Winston Art Gallery holiday party tonight.”
I nod, confirming what he’s said.
“This is for you,” he says, handing me a piping hot cup of coffee. “And for you, Mrs. Jackson.” He gives my mother a cup of coffee.
“Is there cream in this?” my mother asks, turning her nose up at the mug of coffee in her hands.
“Mom,” I admonish.
“Two creams, one sugar.”
She frowns at Neil’s response. “I’m trying to watch my sugar intake. You know that Type 2 diabetes is wreaking havoc in our communities. You probably shouldn’t be drinking so much sugar, either, Desiree.”
Before I can respond, she takes the cup of coffee out of my hands.
“With the amount of baking you’re doing lately, you have to be mindful of how much taste testing you do as well. All of that sugar and flour is not good for the hips.”
I sigh, used to my mother’s loving jabs of encouragement.
“Her hips are fine,” Neil asserts, his voice low but forceful. His eyes intently stare at my mother, almost daring her to say anything even remotely disparaging.
I swallow the lump in my throat, caused by the tension in the room. “Mom, as Neil said, tonight he and I are going to a holiday party, so I won’t be able to go with you to dinner. Maybe we can plan for something next week?”
“Next week is Thanksgiving.”
My hopeful smile drops. How could I have forgotten? We were less than a week away from one of my favorite days of the year.
“Then, of course, we’ll be seeing each other this week.”
“Hmm,” she comments.
I don’t know what to make of that, but instead of trying to decipher it, I say, “Maybe Aunt Rachel is up for lunch or dinner with you today.” My Aunt Rachel is one of my mother’s closest friends. She lost her husband a few years ago and would most likely be available for spending the day with my mother.
“I may give her a call.”
“Good. I bet she wants to get out of the house.” I, not so discreetly, make my way to the door, pulling it open.
Though my mother appears as if she wants to remain to have all the questions swirling around in her eyes answered, she takes the hint. Striding over to the door with her head held high, she pauses in front of me. Leaning in, she kisses my cheek before stepping over the threshold of my apartment.
“I’ll give you a call later this week to finalize the Thanksgiving menu. You are still coming over for Thanksgiving, aren’t you?” Her eyes shoot over my shoulder, and I know she’s staring at Neil. He hasn’t moved from the living room. I don’t have to glance over my shoulder to know he’s still there. I can feel his presence. It’s uncanny how attached I feel to him.
“Yes,” I answer, hugging her before pulling back.
“Great. I’ll talk to you then.” My mother gives me one last look up and down and then turns to leave.
I release the breath I held the entire time she was here and close the door, falling back against it.
Neil lowers the two coffee mugs to my wooden coffee table before moving to stand in front of me. He places his hands at either side of my head, leaning down so that his face hovers above mine.
“Is she always so friendly in the morning?”
I grin. “She was just taken by surprise.”
“I bet. Does she normally do pop-ups like that?”
I shake my head. “Not usually so early, but then again, I’m home when she does her casual drop-ins, so …” I shrug, chalking her early morning visit to me not being home when she popped in the week before.
“She doesn’t call before coming over?”
I let out a laugh. “I tried to establish that rule early on when I first moved out after college, but my mother does what she wants.” I shake my head and roll my eyes a little. “What about your parents?”
“What about them?”
“What are they like?” I fold my arms over my chest, recalling that Neil has met both of my parents, under much different circumstances, but he met them.
Leaning down, he brushes his lips against my cheek, causing me to smile because his beard tickles my skin. “You’ll get a chance to find out tonight,” he growls right before biting my earlobe.
“Are you serious?” I demand, pushing against his chest so I can look at his face.
He nods and wrinkles his forehead. “Yeah, they’ll be at the holiday party tonight.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Why do you look worried?”
“I’ll be meeting your parents.”
“They’re just people.” He says it so matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry.” He presses a kiss to my nose. “My main concern is that they make a good impression on you. I won’t let you run for the hills after you meet the people who raised me.”
I laugh, followed by a screech as he hoists me over his shoulder. “Neil, my robe,” I yell when the silk robe falls over my legs, exposing my rear end to the air.
“Good. The damn thing was obstructing my view anyway,” he growls as we enter my bedroom. He lowers me to the bed and pushes the sides of the robe open, exposing me entirely to his heated gaze.
“We’ve got some time before the delivery guy comes for the cookies. Let’s make it count,” he says, stripping out of his jeans.
Chapter 8
“Are you cold?” he asks in that deep voice of his while his gaze drinks in every inch of my body.
I shake my head as I step through the art gallery entrance that he holds open for me. The sounds of softly playing holiday music reach my ears as soon as the door closes behind us. However, it’s Neil’s sharp gaze that continues to hold my attention.
Thankfully, the padded bra I’m wearing beneath my red, sequined dress prevents my hardened nipples from being seen through the material. Otherwise, Neil and everybody around us would have an indication of how turned on his voice and stare is making me. Not surprisingly, the smirk that plays at his lips already informs me that he knows the exact effect he’s having on me.
“I’m fine,” I say, but my voice comes out huskier than I’d intended. “If I knew you looked this great in a tuxedo, I would’ve made you wear one on our dates sooner.”
I’m not joking, either. Neil’s
tailored Tom Ford looks as if every single stitch was made with his body in mind. I run my tongue along my bottom lip, glad that I wore my smudge-proof lipstick for the night.
“If you asked, I would’ve put on this monkey suit sooner.”
I laugh. He’s been calling the tux a monkey suit ever since he put it on. He may not be in love with wearing a tuxedo, but he’s built for it.
“You could’ve been a model. Did anyone ever tell you that?” I question, staring at him. With his long, strawberry locks, perfect face, pink lips, and strong jaw, he has the precise makings of a cover model on any one of the magazines that post men on their front pages.
He chuckles. “I was for a short time.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Are you being serious?”
He nods. “Some guy approached me at a fast-food restaurant when I was like sixteen. I thought he was a fucking perv at first, but he turned out to be a legit photographer. Pretty famous one, too. I did a few campaigns, but nothing ever came of it.” He shrugs and turns to the awaiting hostess.
“Neil McKenna,” he tells her.
The young woman’s smile grows. “Mr. McKenna, Grace has been waiting for you. She’s with your parents. I’ll bring them right over. Wait right here, please,” She turns and retreats into the party, apparently seeking out his parents and the host of the event.
“Wait, so you were like a real model? How come it didn’t work out?” I ask, surprised that he’s so casual about it. I couldn’t imagine him being beat out for any modeling jobs he went out for; granted, there are a lot of good looking people in this world, but Neil is more than a pretty face. That simmering look of his could melt any woman. Photographers or designers would have to be a fool to turn him down.
“Alcohol happened,” he says.
A pit in my belly forms, and suddenly I feel like a fool. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
He shakes his head, taking my hand in his. “Don’t apologize. I’m not ashamed of that time in my life. Besides, modeling was not my life’s calling. I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing,” he says firmly.
Another piece of any resistance I might have to this man falls away. He talks about his job with such sincerity. I can’t help but lift onto my tiptoes and plant a kiss on his cheek.
A Holiday Seduction: A Holiday Novella Page 6