Unforgettable Christmas Dreams: Gifts of Joy

by Rebecca York

  Although she didn’t know Lucas very well, she couldn’t imagine him doing anything but ranching. “Did you ever want to do something else?”

  “I thought about it a few times when I was in college and after my wi—” He broke off suddenly and turned quiet.

  “After your wife died,” she said quietly. “Debbie told me that was rough for you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, narrowing his eyes as a dozen emotions passed through them.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What made you come to Kent?”

  “Because the community really needed me. I received other offers, but I could tell Kent really needed me. I could see myself belonging, and that’s something I’ve wanted my entire life.”

  “But what about the lack of entertainment?”

  She smiled. “Entertainment is a matter of taste. I couldn’t walk along a path at 2:00 a.m. and see this kind of view in Baltimore.”

  “True,” he said. “But there aren’t a lot of singles’ bars in town, either.”

  “I don’t think I’ll find what I want in a singles’ bar,” she said wryly.

  He stopped. “What do you want?”

  “Not that much. To feel needed and wanted. To make a place for myself.”

  “I bet you’ll get bored as hell after you’ve lived here awhile.”

  His doubt in her pinched. She frowned. “You don’t know me well enough to make that judgment.”

  “I know the winters here are long, and you’re a city girl used to creature comforts.”

  “It all depends on what creature comforts are important to me.”

  He adjusted his hat but still wore a doubtful expression on his face. “Okay, I’ll bite. What creature comforts are important to you?”

  “A warm fire. A safe home of my own. People calling my name when I walk down the street. Friends who stay in my life for a long time.”

  “What about family?”

  The question cut at a tender place she tried to keep hidden. She crossed her arms over her chest. “My friends will be my family,” she said. “And Cleo.”

  “Your cat?” he queried, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Why don’t you just get married? You’re attractive. You should be able to find a guy to marry you.”

  Amy tilted her head at his backhanded compliment. “Thank you—I think. I don’t want to be married unless it’s to the right person. It looks like a lot more pain is caused by being married to the wrong person than by being single. But I could say the same to you. You may be grouchy and remote, but you’re attractive. You should be able to find a woman to marry you,” she said with the sweetest smile she could muster.

  He frowned. “I didn’t say I wanted to get married.”

  “Neither did I.”

  The vapor from her breath mingled with his as she met his gaze. She noticed that they had stopped walking and he was standing entirely too close to her. She told herself to pull away, but her feet refused.

  “Are you ready to go to bed now?” he asked in a low voice.

  Her heart hiccupped in her chest. Bed. In a flash, an unwelcome visual flitted through her mind of Lucas, naked, hot and anything but grouchy and remote. Amy found the image too appealing, too tempting. After his cool reception of her, she liked the idea of getting him hot and bothered. A distant mental warning bell sounded. Bad idea, she told herself. This was not a man to taunt.

  He gently chucked her chin with his forefinger. “Cleo got your tongue? You think you can go back to sleep now?”

  Fat chance. “Sure,” she said, even though she was certain she was awake enough to paint the house. “I’ll probably drift right off as soon as I get warm again.”

  “Good,” he said, and they made the return walk in silence.

  As soon as they entered the house, she was compelled by politeness to thank him. “It was nice of you to suggest a walk when you probably could have gone back to sleep with no problem.”

  His eyes glinted with mischief. “I guess I’m just a nice, grouchy, remote, but attractive man.”

  Amy bit her lip to keep from smiling. He was throwing her description of him right back at her. “I guess you are,” she returned and reached out to squeeze his arm. “Thanks.”

  He glanced down at her hand on his arm, and when his gaze met hers, she could almost swear she saw the barest hint of sexual intent. She moved her hand away as if she’d touched a hot stove.

  Lucas didn’t sleep well the rest of the night. It was almost as if someone had stuck a splinter in his side since Amy had shown up. His peace and solitude had been completely disrupted, and her assessment of him got under his skin. He wasn’t all that grouchy, he thought. He just didn’t like Christmas.

  Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face. Changeable green eyes wanting to trust and that full mouth of hers that could produce an innocent smile one moment, and remind him what he’d been missing the last few years the next. This woman, he concluded, got on his nerves.

  The next morning, he rose early and threw himself into work. The natural rhythm of caring for the animals and repairing a stretch of fence calmed him, and he didn’t return to the house until evening.

  The wreath on the door greeted him, then as soon as he entered, he heard Christmas music playing on the stereo, and the cat appeared, rubbing against his ankles.

  His housekeeper, Flora, met him wearing a wary expression. “I couldn’t say no to her.”

  His gut knotted. “What do you mean?”

  Flora shrugged helplessly and pointed toward the den.

  Carefully stepping over the cat, Lucas strode to the den, fully prepared to do what Flora had been unable to do. He stopped midway into the room at the sight that beheld him. Perched on a ladder, Amy strung lights around a large Christmas tree. The scent of pine filled the air.

  The tree felt like a knife between his ribs. He remembered all too well taking down the tree his wife had decorated before she’d died. He swore under his breath.

  Amy must have heard or felt him. Her gaze shot to his, her eyes rounding at his presence. Startled, she wobbled on the ladder, losing her balance. “Oh, no!”

  Lucas rushed toward her, grabbing her and falling backward at the same time. He landed on the floor bottom first with her cradled on top of him. They lay in silence for a few breath-shattering seconds.

  Amy lifted her head and looked down at him, her bangs falling over one eye. “Are you okay?”

  Lucas felt a twinge in his backside. “As long as I don’t sit down for the next month.”

  She winced. “I’m sorry.”

  His heart still hammered in his chest, but his other senses began to engage. He inhaled her sweet, sultry scent and felt the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest. The weight of her lower body rested intimately against his.

  Her gaze locked with his, and he watched her eyes darken with gradual feminine, sensual awareness. She licked her lips.

  “I should move,” she murmured.

  “Uh-huh,” he said, but neither of them did.

  Chapter Three

  Amy fought the delicious, seductive sensation that urged her toward Lucas. He was so solid, so strong, so…She wondered how he kissed and stared at his mouth for a long moment. Glancing back into his eyes, she saw that he’d caught her. Her cheeks heated. Hoping he couldn’t read her mind, she began to carefully back away, the same way she might back away from a lion.

  Holding her with his gaze, he followed her up on his elbows.

  A dozen tingly, odd sensations coursed through her, and she cleared her throat to break the silence. “You move fast for such a tall man.”

  “I didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he said.

  His intent expression made her knees unsteady, but she forced them to work anyway, standing. “There you go with that overdeveloped protective streak again,” she joked.

  He didn’t smile. His face was dead serious. “No falling,” he said. “I don’t want you on the ladder unle
ss someone is right beside you.”

  “But—” she protested.

  “But nothing,” he said, pulling off his suede jacket. “I’ll put the rest of the lights on the tree, then you can decorate up to the ladder level and stop.”

  “But—”

  He leaned his head so that he was two breaths away from her. “This is nonnegotiable.”

  Amy’s throat went dry at the sensual combination of velvet and steel in his voice. Confused, she gave a tiny nod, wondering what was wrong with her. She’d never been attracted to domineering men.

  He didn’t appear satisfied. “Repeat after me. Lucas, I will not climb the ladder unless another person is helping me.”

  “Are you always this bossy?”

  “When it’s important,” he said, without one iota of apology. “I’m waiting.”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Okay, I won’t climb the ladder unless I have help. There. Are you satisfied?”

  “It’ll be one less thing to give me heartburn,” he muttered turning toward the ladder. As he climbed it, Amy couldn’t help observing that Lucas had an incredible backside. He quickly strung the rest of the lights, and descended the ladder. “All yours.”

  She plugged in the lights. The tree lit up, and she nodded in approval as a wave of bittersweet nostalgia passed over her. “Thank you. Ever since I lived on my own, I’ve always had a Christmas tree. Even when I went to college, I had one of those little tabletop artificial ones in my dorm room. I think of Christmas as the time of year when most everyone is a little nicer. I think the season brings out the best in people. A little light in the darkness, kinda like the lights on the tree.”

  She looked at Lucas and suddenly felt self-conscious at her disclosure. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get all soppy on you.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “No apology necessary,” he said, then a glint of pain sliced through his eyes.

  His expression tugged at something tender inside her. She was filled with the odd longing to wipe away his grief. She balled her fists to keep from reaching out to embrace him. He wouldn’t appreciate it, she told herself. He didn’t want a hug, even if she wanted to give one.

  “Enjoy the tree, Amy,” he said, and left her staring after him, her hands feeling strangely itchy and empty.

  Lucas successfully avoided his on-site Christmas fairy during the next twenty-four hours by sticking to outside work. The cold weather suited him, numbing him to the pain that sneaked up on him at odd moments. It was dark when he returned to the house. The first thing he noticed was a cluster of about ten cars spilling from his driveway. Even before he opened the front door, he heard a chorus of voices singing a Christmas carol.

  Lucas sighed, pushed the door open, and the sound of the season assaulted him. There was no way he could escape Christmas with Amy in his house. Amy’s cat, Cleo, scampered out of the den and rubbed against his legs.

  The music ended and laughter filled the air.

  Amy appeared in the doorway with an uncertain expression on her face. “I asked Flora if you would mind if some Christmas carolers met here for a little practice. Everyone was originally supposed to meet at my house, but you know what happened.” She glanced down at his feet and her lips twitched. “Look at Cleo marking you. She likes you.”

  Lucas glanced down in consternation as the cat continued to wind around his ankles. “Marking me?”

  She nodded. “Cats rub against you and mark you to show they like you.”

  Lucas had no idea how to respond. Why in the world did he feel vaguely pleased that Amy’s cat liked him? This was insane. He removed his hat and slapped it against his thigh in frustration.

  “Flora shouldn’t have said the Christmas carol practice would be okay with you, should she?” Amy asked in a low voice as she stepped closer. “I can get everyone to leave.”

  Lucas sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t say no to Amy any better than Flora could. “I’ll grab a sandwich and eat it in my room.”

  “Hey, Amy,” a male voice called from the den. “Where’d you go?”

  “Are you sure?” she asked Lucas, ignoring the other man’s call. Her gaze tangled with Lucas’s for a long moment, and the look in her eyes made his heart thud with a rough, edgy rhythm.

  A man strode into the doorway, breaking the odd moment stretching between Lucas and Amy. Lucas immediately recognized him—Dan Arthur, a local attorney. And he was looking at Amy the same way a cat looked at a canary.

  “You disappeared,” Dan chided her, looping his arm over her shoulders. He glanced up at Lucas and nodded. “Seasons greetings, Lucas. Nice of you to give our favorite teacher a place to stay after the fire. I bet you’ve enjoyed her Christmas decorations. The only thing missing is mistletoe,” he said, with a pointed grin for Amy.

  Lucas’s gaze hung on the man’s arm around Amy’s shoulders. His stomach knotted with an unwelcome feeling he couldn’t quite identify. Mistletoe. Dan clearly wanted to do a heck of a lot more than kiss her. Lucas resisted the urge to push Dan away.

  Annoyed at the territorial instinct roiling inside him, he swallowed an oath. “Give her time,” Lucas muttered darkly, and left the couple in the foyer. He had two words for Dan Arthur, and they weren’t Merry Christmas.

  Hours later, Lucas sat in bed and read an article on ranch management instead of sleeping. The holiday season always unsettled him, but tonight he was equally unsettled by thoughts of Amy.

  It was bad enough that the woman had the fervor of Santa’s elves when it came to the holiday season, but Amy bothered him in other ways. She wasn’t classically pretty, he kept telling himself, but that didn’t stop him from studying her face every chance he got. He shouldn’t find her sexy, but she projected an earthiness that made him want to strip off those baggy jeans and chunky sweaters and slide deep inside her.

  After Jennifer died, he’d ruthlessly pushed aside his sexual needs. His wife had died, so denying himself pleasure seemed just and right. He had failed to protect her, so why should he be happy?

  Sighing, he tossed aside the journal and rose from the bed. He wandered to his window and raked his hand through his hair.

  A muffled whimper from down the hall penetrated his brooding isolation.

  The nightmare had returned. Desperation seeped through her like acid. Her heart hammering, Amy shook her head. “No, no, no.” She saw her new home. She was finally settled, surrounded by furnishings she’d chosen that made her feel as if she had at last found home. Then, the flames kicked up, destroying everything. Over and over again, she walked into her home, hopeful, only to see the flames burn her precious dreams to ashes.

  “No, no!” she said, watching her photos melt from the relentless fire.

  She felt strong hands on her arms, shaking her. The visual of the fire faded.

  “Amy.”

  The male voice immediately diminished her panic.

  She blinked and sat up, finding herself in Lucas’s arms. Disoriented, she sucked in several deep breaths. “It was the dream. The fire,” she murmured, trying to steady herself. “The dream. I’m okay.”

  “You’re safe. There’s no fire.”

  I’m here. He didn’t say it, but she felt it, and his presence made all the difference in the world. Amy instinctively sank against him. She couldn’t refuse his reassurance. Here was unadulterated strength. At times Lucas might be cranky, but he was solid through and through. His complete reliability got under her skin and touched her where she was most vulnerable. In Lucas’s arms, she was a lonely little girl again, wanting to feel safe, believing it was possible.

  The feelings sent her equilibrium spinning.

  His fingers slid through her hair in a comforting caress, and she closed her eyes. She inhaled his clean, masculine scent. Her palms rested on his chest, and his skin was smooth over the steel of his muscles. His strength again seduced, and she couldn’t resist the urge to touch.

  The air was cool, but he was warm.

  “What was your dream?” he
asked in a low voice that sent a delicious shiver through her.

  “I keep making a home for myself, but every time I think I’m safe, the fire comes back.”

  “You hide your fear very well,” he said.

  She looked up, searching his face in the darkness. “What do you mean?”

  “You sing your Christmas carols. You bake your cookies. But your dream tells that you’re afraid.”

  She stiffened in defense. “I’m not—”

  He placed his thumb over her lips. “It’s normal,” he told her. “I’ve watched a lot of people fall apart when they lose their homes. You haven’t.”

  “I don’t want to fall apart. I’m not going to fall apart.”

  “I believe you,” he said. “You’re tough.”

  She sighed and dropped her head against his chest. “I don’t feel tough,” she whispered.

  “You are,” he said, sifting his fingers through her hair again.

  “But the dream keeps coming back.”

  “You’re expecting too much of yourself. Give yourself some time.”

  “How come you’re so smart about this?”

  He chuckled, and the sound rippled through her nerve endings. “I’m just naturally smart.”

  She smiled at his sense of humor and lifted her head to look at him. “Sorry I interrupted your sleep again.”

  “I wasn’t asleep.”

  Surprise skipped through her. “Kinda late for a rancher who gets up early every morning. Or do you have special powers? Like your stainless-steel throat. You don’t need sleep?”

  “No,” he said, and his gaze held banked heat. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m very human.”

  Amy stared into his eyes, and felt a bone deep-connection with him resonate inside her. Her breath hitched, and an electric anticipation sizzled in the air.

  His gaze drifted to her mouth as if he were struggling with an inner demon, and Amy’s heart hammered against her rib cage. She was acutely aware of his naked chest beneath her palms, skin against skin, the whisper of a chance for more. For a millisecond she wondered if she should move away, but couldn’t imagine moving from his warmth.