All I Want for Christmas

by Denise A. Agnew

  Gratified by the disbelief on her face, Nick almost swooped down and captured her mouth with a kiss. No. Next time he took her in his arms, their kiss would be a damn sight deeper and longer than before. He’d make sure of it.

  “You’re a great employee. You’ve picked up everything in a very short time,” Abby said. “I don’t want to fire you.”

  He smiled, then dropped his voice. “Thanks. A guy needs his ego stroked sometimes.”

  She grinned sarcastically. “I don’t think your ego lacks any steam.” She plunged on. “We need help on Saturdays, so if she volunteers just on Saturday that will be great. But it sounds like she can give us a few hours during the week as well.”

  “Good thinking.” Nick shrugged and then opened his big mouth to ask the question eating at him. “You’re going out with Mark?”

  “I’m meeting him at his house and then we’re off to see a movie.”

  “Humph. How well do you know this guy?”

  Abby pulled the small hat off her head and ran her fingers through her hair. She let out an impatient sound. “I can trust him. Besides, he’s just a friend.”

  “Just a friend? Pixie, have you seen the way he looks at you?”

  Her gaze hardened, as if the caramel had solidified into hard candy. “No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

  Nick stepped closer, feeling his common sense do a cartwheel right out the door. He spoke softly so his voice wouldn’t carry. “I’ll bet he wants to get this close to you. Hell, he probably dreams at night about holding you and making love to you.”

  Abby’s gaze grew limpid, and he could barely restrain himself from touching her.

  Lowering his voice yet again, he poured all his need into his next words. “In fact, this near to you, he probably feels kind of funny. Like his heart might stop.”

  “Sounds uncomfortable,” she said, a weak attempt at acerbity in her voice.

  He’d have to work harder to get through her defenses. Nick leaned forward until he could whisper the words into her ear. “This close, he wants to touch your cheek.”

  Nick dared to touch her, cupping her face, brushing over her cheek with his thumb. “He wants to taste this softness.”

  Right there, where anyone could have walked in on them, he took the leap and pressed a quick kiss to Abby’s cheek.

  Abby’s breath came quicker, and he saw her pupils widen. Signs of arousal, yes, and instruments of torture for him. She wasn’t immune to him.

  Nick had to swallow hard. “He’d be a crazy man not to kiss you.”

  She hadn’t dragged her gaze from him, and the attention drew him the slightest bit nearer. “I don’t know what Mark thinks about me, other than he likes me. I’d hardly say that translates into burgeoning lust.”

  At her choice of words, Nick laughed and took his touch away from her cheek. “I’ll say it’s burgeoning.”

  She groaned. “Nick, don’t you have work to do?”

  “I’m having a hell of a lot more fun touching you.”

  Abby perused him as if he was an oddity she couldn’t interpret. “What does it matter to you if I go out with Mark?”

  Her straightforward question floored him, and he found it difficult to answer. “I don’t trust the guy.”

  “You don’t trust him not to kiss me or you think he’d hurt me?”

  His mouth opened but nothing came out for several seconds. “If he gets the chance he’ll kiss you. But if I thought he might hurt you, I’d lock you in your house and wouldn’t let you out.”

  This made Abby smile. “I’m not Rapunzel.”

  “No, but I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “By what? By the possibility that I might like him more than he likes me?”

  Nick hadn’t thought of that. Crap. That meant one thing and one thing only, and he didn’t want to admit that.

  “No.”

  “What then?”

  The confession burst from him. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m jealous.”

  If Nick thought she’d laugh at him he was wrong. Instead Abby appeared totally disbelieving.

  “Jealous,” Abby said, as if the word had never passed her lips before. She brushed hair away from her cheek again.

  “Is it so hard to imagine?” he asked, as much to himself as to her.

  “Yes.”

  “Why? I like you very much.”

  “Well, I—I like you too, but...” Flustered, she tucked her hair behind both her ears.

  Nick wanted to groan. The sight of her small ears made him yearn to nuzzle and kiss her soft skin. “But what?”

  “Just because you work with me doesn’t mean you run my leisure time,” Abby said in a rush.

  Anger punctured the heady arousal rushing through him. “I’m not trying to run your life.”

  “I’ve got to change.” Looking cynical and confused, Abby turned away and headed into the ladies’ area. Seconds ticked by before Nick realized he’d clenched his fists at his sides.

  Slowly he exhaled, then loosened his hands. His insides tightened, nerves sparking in protest over their confrontation. Nick groaned, pissed that he’d allowed Abby Manners to wedge her way into his affection. Yeah, he did have feelings for her. He didn’t want Mark touching her. He didn’t want Mark kissing her.

  Damn. He was jealous!

  Abby discovered that Edna operated like a friendly, gray-haired fireball of energy. This verve prompted Abby and Becca to put Edna with Nick for the remainder of the day so that he could show her around and teach her to use the computer.

  Abby spent most the day endeavoring to forget what Nick had said about his jealousy. Nick Claussen, a man that had gorgeous written all over him. An absolutely indisputable hunk had admitted jealous feelings? Jealousy meant he had wanted something approaching a relationship with her. Something man and woman oriented.

  The very idea sent gratification and spirals of heat through her.

  What Abby knew about her own feelings bothered her. She liked Nick, too. More than she wanted to like him.

  Yet she’d acted the ninny again. Running from him when the conversation turned heavy. Abby groaned and tried to open a box of books on the front counter. The store had gone quiet. This near closing time, most people had made purchases and left the store. She muttered under her breath when she couldn’t open the box with her bare hands.

  “Something wrong, Abby?” Becca asked as she appeared at the desk.

  Abby straightened. “No.”

  “I don’t believe it. Are you and Nick fighting?”

  Mortified at her own transparency, Abby went behind the counter and rummaged for a pair of scissors. “We don’t fight.”

  “Okay, maybe not fight. But I’ve seen the sparks flying off of you two. Did something happen this morning?”

  “Nick was worried we were going to replace him.” Abby explained about him overhearing her conversation with Mark. She left out the part about him invading her personal space and how he made her feel trembling hot and downright stimulated whenever he stood close. She also neglected to mention his jealousy.

  “Uh-huh.” Becca lowered her voice. “Honey, I think I know what ails both of those men. Well, at least Nick anyway. I’d say he’s a little lost. Trying to find something.”

  Abby waved the scissors in the air. “Well, I can’t help him find whatever he’s missing. I’ve got enough soul-searching to do myself.”

  “Sometimes it takes more than soul-searching to find an answer. Maybe you need to relax around Nick. When was the last time you let go and had fun with a man?”

  Abby cut through the tape holding the box together. “Define ‘let go and have fun.’”

  “Not fighting whatever develops. Letting your relationship develop where it will without pushing in any specific direction.”

  “That’s risky business all around. I tried that years ago and didn’t like the result.”

  Becca sighed. “Everything in life is a gamble, Abby. No one can guarantee that you won�
��t get hurt. But your fences are so high, no man can climb over them.”

  Ripping the box open, she said, “Maybe I don’t want anyone to get over my fence.”

  “You took a chance on our friendship.”

  “Your friendship is a lot different than giving up my inhibitions with a man.” Abby tossed the scissors back in the drawer. She paused and twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “Getting my heart broken by Nick Claussen is a whole different scene.”

  Becca nodded. “True. So what you’re saying is that Nick has the potential to break your heart? If that’s the case, I think you’re in deep already. Are you in love with him?”

  “In love?” Abby squeaked. She looked toward the back of the store, worried Nick would hear them. “Becca, I hardly know him.”

  “But if you didn’t care for him at all, you wouldn’t be worrying about him breaking your heart. What I hear you saying is that you do care.”

  Becca’s perceptive nature made Abby pause for a second. “I can’t afford to care. He’s an employee and this is a professional relationship.”

  Two customers came into the store needing assistance, effectively cutting short the conversation. During the rest of the day, Abby thought about what Becca had suggested. Could she let Nick into her life on a personal level? Was it worth the risk?

  The answer was still a resounding no.

  “How was your date?”

  Abby jerked in surprise when Nick loomed up next to her as she went down the service hall the next morning.

  Minus the hat and beard, he looked even more handsome than he had the day before. Not GQ elegant, not artificially good looking, simply virile, rugged, masculinity. The lighting glinted off the red highlights in his curling hair, and his mouth tipped in a sinful smile.

  Did this man have any idea what he did to her with that suggestive grin? Abby’s temperature soared at the mere thought of touching him in any fashion.

  “It was fine,” she finally said.

  “Fine. Exactly how good is fine?”

  Stopping, she glared at him. “The movie was great and the company was pleasant.”

  “End of story?”

  “End of story.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  Abby moved toward the exit that would lead them into the rotunda. “Put on your hat and beard before a poor kid sees you and is scarred for life.”

  As he plopped the hat on and adjusted the beard, Nick followed her. “Are you saying I’m ugly?”

  She glanced back at him as she shoved open the door. “You’re far from ugly.”

  “There’s hope, then.” When they reached his throne, well ahead of time, he sank into the chair. He grinned. “Did he kiss you?”

  His direct question shouldn’t have shocked her, but it did.

  Mark had kissed her briefly. The lukewarm peck on the lips hadn’t started any flash fire. “You’re awfully damn cheeky asking that question.”

  “Probably. But then I don’t know how to be any other way.” He reached for her hand and pulled Abby close to his chair. “What did he make you feel?”

  “Like someone he respects and cares for.”

  Something resembling anxiety crept into his eyes, startling her. “What’s a man got to do make you feel respected and cared for? So that you’ll trust him?”

  Her powers of speech turned to mush, and a wave pure need and a desire to reassure him flooded her. “I do trust you, Nick.”

  Abby squeezed his hand and allowed a smile to part her lips. Holding Nick’s hand generated more excitement within her than the little smooch Mark had bestowed on her. Abby’s mind drifted to the conversation she’d had with Nick about his jealousy.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

  “About the meaning of the universe.”

  With a wry twist of his lips, he said, “That’s a pretty complicated subject this early in the morning.”

  She laughed. “Nick Claussen, I think you need your head examined.”

  “Okay. When do you want to examine it?”

  The blush that filled her cheeks made him smile again. “That deserves punishment.”

  “Sounds interesting. Should I bring handcuffs?”

  She laughed again, this time a sound closer to a giggle. Abby put her hand to her mouth to stop the silly squeal. “Your punishment is to help me finish decorating my house this evening.”

  He groaned. “You mean all those boxes of junk you bought the other day?”

  “It’s not junk.” Abby tugged at his grip on her hand.

  He released her hand. “Okay, not junk. Stuff. Lots of stuff.”

  “Are you free tonight to help me or not?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Uh-huh. Be there at eight prompt. I’ll fix dinner.”

  “Hey, now that’s more like it. Dinner ought to make up for having to put up a ton of hideous stuff.”

  Abby had enough time to sock him in the arm before children arrived to see Santa.

  9

  When the doorbell chimed at eight o’clock, Abby almost dropped the coffee can on the floor. “Damn.”

  She headed for the door. She’d arrived home from the store late, and with little time to spare before Nick would arrive, she’d defrosted a quick stew she’d concocted the other night. She’d tried it once at a friend’s house and had loved it.

  When Abby opened the door, the sight of Nick’s teasing smile and the dozen pink roses he held made her heart do triple time, then a double flip. She’d never received roses from a man.

  “For me?” she asked as he handed them to her.

  He looked around the foyer and then to the ceiling. “You see any other beautiful elves around here?”

  As Abby ushered him in, she clutched the flowers. “Nick, they’re beautiful. Thank you.” She impulsively reached up to kiss him on the cheek. Her aim was true, but he was fast. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he turned his head so that their lips met.

  Immediate pleasure took her senses hostage. Everything pinpointed how his lips molded to hers, how they caressed hers tenderly for a few seconds. Amazing feelings zinged through her, startling and wonderful. She almost dropped the flowers.

  “Nick,” she gasped, when he released her lips quickly.

  “Glad you like the roses. What would I need to do to get another kiss?”

  She let him draw her closer. A warm flush filled her. “Put up decorations tonight without complaining?”

  His arms slid from around her. “I think I can handle that.”

  Abby knew he’d be as good as his word so he could have that kiss. Good going. I allowed him to maneuver me. Splendid.

  It didn’t matter how wonderful his mouth felt.

  After he’d shed his coat, she ushered him into the dining room. “I’ve got dinner ready. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Nick wrinkled his nose. “Is something burning?”

  “Oh, God.” She ran for the kitchen. When she reached it, Abby saw that her creation had boiled over and presented a thorough mess on the stovetop.

  She grabbed the lid and realized too late her mistake. “Ouch!” Cursing, she dropped the hot lid and switched off the burner.

  “Here, let me see that.” Nick grabbed her hand and ushered her to the sink. Turning on the faucet, he held her hand under the cold, soothing water. “That better?”

  “Much. Thanks.” She pulled her hand from his slowly, and looked at the red spot on her finger. She dried it with a towel. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  He grinned. “Boiled over your stew or burned your finger?”

  “Both.” Abby sighed and looked at the mess. “Great, just great.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine. I’m more concerned about your finger. Is it all right?”

  Abby surveyed the offended digit. “It’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

  “Burning your fingers on the stove is a regular occurrence?”

  She made a face at him. “Of course not. I spend a lot of time p
opping stuff in the microwave. When you cook for one person it’s hard to be a gourmet.”

  “I’m collecting cookbooks and seeing what kind of trouble I can get into. Why don’t you put a Band-Aid on that finger, and I’ll serve up the stew?”

  “But...”

  He gently maneuvered her out of the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I know my way around a kitchen.”

  “This isn’t going to get you out of putting up decorations,” Abby called as she marched upstairs.

  He laughed but didn’t reply. After Abby bandaged her finger, she glanced in the mirror and noted that her cheeks were as flushed as if she’d run a marathon. She touched her palms to her face and felt the heat. Damn but this man sent her in to a tizzy. Grouping her defenses, determined to enjoy her time with him without coming unraveled by his charm, she headed downstairs.

  Nick had put bowls of stew on the dining room table and French bread on a serving board. He’d also poured the merlot she’d uncorked before he’d arrived.

  As they settled at the table, Nick said, “I see you’ve already gotten a healthy start on the decorations.”

  “Healthy start? Only the tree and stockings are up.”

  “Yeah, but you have a wreath outside on the front door, and you have Christmas cards lined up along that one table.”

  “That’s only the beginning.” She took a sip of wine.

  Nick made a groaning noise. “Well, from all that junk—stuff—you bought the other day, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  Abby gave Nick a mock frown. “I thought you said you wouldn’t complain?”

  He held up both hands. “I won’t. I promise.”

  She turned their conversation away from his disdain for decorations. “Thanks, Nick. I appreciate your help with dinner.”

  “Not a problem. Mom trained me well. My dad is a little old-fashioned, but she’s trained even him to cook and do laundry.”

  “Smart mom.” How nice to have a loving family like Nick’s. She envied him. What would it be like to be in the bosom of relatives that cared? Really wanted to be with you and enjoyed your company? People you could rely upon and loved you for who you were?

  “Over the years I’ve worked an average of ten to fifteen hours a day, six days a week. I just haven’t had the time or energy to put my mother’s training to use. I’ve had a maid service and those microwave dinners came in handy. Now that I’m here and have more time, I plan on doing for myself,” he said.