All I Want for Christmas

by Denise A. Agnew

  “We should go,” Abby said weakly, knowing he didn’t want to go, and neither did she.

  “We should,” he echoed, his breath warm, his tone husky against her ears.

  “This isn’t just another tactic to keep me from decorating your apartment, is it?”

  “No.”

  “From talking about Candace?”

  “No.” He touched her face with his fingertips.

  Nick cupped her face in his hands, and captured her lips beneath his. Without restraint she put her arms around his waist. Seconds melted into minutes, as he tasted her with deep stokes of his tongue.

  Whatever their plans, she lost it all in the touch of his fingers caressing her face, the melting of his tongue against hers. The heat of Nick’s hard, muscled body drove her to reach under his sweater to the bare, hot skin beneath. His soft moan spurred her toward more daring touches.

  The phone rang.

  He broke away with a groan of despair. “God, not again.”

  Abby knew what he meant. Their lovemaking had been interrupted by a phone call before, as if fate conspired against them. He backed away as she reached for the phone on the desk. She controlled her breathing, though it was difficult. It was a customer calling after hours to ask a question. Politely she answered the question, taking her time.

  Abby sighed and tried not to look at Nick. If she did, she’d forget who was on the other end of the line. Forget the consequences of allowing this virile, powerful man to kiss her.

  By the time Abby finished the call, he’d zipped his coat and had his car keys ready. Nick’s signal was clear, but part of her wanted to remove his coat and finish what they’d started. Another part of her said it was too soon. Too much. Her life didn’t need the complications a sexual relationship would bring, especially not with a man who wouldn’t be around for the long term. No. Perhaps, if she kept the relationship more platonic, her heart wouldn’t shatter into a million pieces when he left. Just perhaps.

  Abby should have known when she saw pine needles littering the entryway of Nick’s apartment. The scent of pine added a second clue.

  Instead she felt the warmth of his hands on her shoulders and everything else was forgotten.

  “Can I take your coat?” he asked, his breath warm against her ear.

  Abby shivered at the pleasant, deep cadence in his voice. As she removed her coat and handed it to him, he smiled. God, Nick was sexy. His fingers brushed hers, and she swallowed hard. The warm, possessive glint in his eyes, along with the way he stayed close to her, made her feel special. Nick’s gaze said he remembered that if that damned phone hadn’t interrupted again, they’d have made love right in the office. A small smile flitted across her lips. The very thought sent hot, unbidden need deep into her womb. Abby couldn’t believe how strongly she reacted to him, as if something had come uncorked in her libido.

  As Nick stared down at her, she knew he would kiss her if she didn’t move away. And Abby had to move, for if she didn’t, she’d never stop kissing him.

  She turned to the living area and almost took a step back in surprise.

  “You bought a tree!” Abby stared at the large pine sitting in the corner next to the fireplace. “I can’t believe you have a tree.”

  The pine stood about eight feet tall, its branches spread wide. She moved further into the room, lured by the scent of an authentic tree. What on earth had made him change his mind about observing Christmas this way, this year?

  “You should see yourself,” he said, grinning.

  “Well, I don’t understand.” She shrugged. “What made you change your mind? And when did you buy it?”

  Nick chuckled as he headed for the kitchen. “Just got it this morning before I came into work. I ordered it from Janson Worth down the street. This was the last good tree he had.”

  “Good? It’s wonderful. It almost doesn’t look real, it’s so perfect.”

  “I’m glad they had a delivery service. I let the manager know he was coming with the tree, and they brought it while we were still at work.”

  She slid onto a bar stool and watched him maneuver around the kitchen, fixing coffee and unwrapping the tin of cookies she’d liberated from her house. When Nick set a plate of cookies in front of her, Abby stared at the stars, gingerbread men, and snowman shapes.

  “Hungry?” he asked, cocking one brow. “I could nuke something or we could order out.”

  “I couldn’t eat a thing.” It was true. Her stomach jumbled and tossed with nervous butterflies. His kisses had left her thrumming. Tingling.

  “Why did you get the tree?” she asked, curiosity no longer tamed.

  As Nick filled the coffee maker with water, he nabbed a cookie. “Because I knew you’d like it.” Before she could reply, he moved from the kitchen and started down the hall. “Bought more decorations. I don’t think what we brought from your apartment will cover it.”

  Because I knew you’d like it.

  The words were so plain. So simple. He’d done this to please her. Why?

  Nick came back with three boxes of decorations, some for the tree and some for the rest of the room. He placed them on the coffee table next to the decorations she’d brought.

  “Since you’re the decorating champ, you can give me tips on where all this should go. Coffee is ready.”

  Astonished by the change, Abby said, “You’ve renewed my faith, Claussen.”

  “In what?” He handed her a mug of coffee.

  “In the ability of people to change.”

  He had helped her. In more ways than he might ever know, Nick had given her hope where there had been none.

  He poured his own coffee, then put in cream and sugar. “You always knew people could change.”

  “My aunt and uncle can’t.”

  “How can you be sure? We’d better start on this tree.” He took his kitchen stepladder and placed it next to the tree. “Hand me that topper, will you?”

  When Abby opened the box, another surprise awaited her.

  Father Christmas nestled among white tissue paper.

  She looked up at Nick, and he frowned. “I was worried it might upset you. That wasn’t what I intended.” Nick came down off the ladder and gently clasped her shoulders. “I thought having him at the top of the tree might be like having an exorcism of bad memories.”

  When Abby gazed at the Father Christmas clutched in her hands, no strong reaction materialized. Instead she remembered Nick in his Father Christmas costume regaling the children at Story Time. He’d done so much good with his representation of Father Christmas. Children had discovered wonder and delight because of Nick.

  Abby turned the topper over in her hands, admiring the detailed workmanship. “Looks just like you. Even his nose is big.”

  He laughed, his grin a wide, happy smile that broke over her like a new dawn. “Give me that.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “Give it to me, or I’ll kiss you,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

  “Oh, no, you don’t—”

  He made an exasperated noise in his throat and drew Abby swiftly against him with one arm while snatching the Father Christmas out of her hands.

  “Take care, Pixie. I’m already having trouble keeping my hands off.” His voice went rough.

  Surprised by his statement and by the fire that darted through her blood, Abby said, “Nick, you didn’t have to do this for me. The Father Christmas is great but—”

  His mouth smothered hers, taking her in a kiss that combined tender affection and raw sex in one.

  Nick released her, awakening evident in his eyes. “I’m a man of my word.”

  He turned back to the tree.

  As the power of what he’d said and done continued to wash through her, Abby trembled. Silently she watched him put the topper on the tree, then climb down the small ladder.

  While he unearthed a string of lights, she tried not to think about what he’d revealed. Today had disclosed much, and Abby didn’t
know how much more she could handle.

  Instead she looked wistfully at his ornament selections. The man had great taste. Nestled carefully in the box, brilliant gold and silver filigree ornaments sparkled. Antique finishes gave them an old world appeal. Abby picked one up and smiled, and as another Christmas song lilted from the radio, her smile enlarged with the contentment in her heart. She touched the rows of snowmen, angels, teddy bears and delicate fans.

  “These are beautiful. I love them,” she whispered.

  Nick threaded a string of lights over a branch as his soft smile covered his lips, and her heart did another wild thump.

  “I’m glad.” His words came so soft she almost didn’t hear him. He gave her a mock frown. “Get over here and help me string these lights, woman.”

  She made an indignant sound. “Woman?”

  “If you don’t help me, you’ll regret it.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Heading toward him, she put her hands on her hips. “Exactly how did you plan to punish me?”

  Abby’s face flamed when she realized how provocative her words had sounded.

  Without losing a beat he drawled, “Slowly and very, very thoroughly.”

  Her blush grew to encompass her entire body as an image of what he might mean flooded her brain. “Oh.”

  Nick laughed, and she almost threw a pillow at him.

  They decorated in silence for several minutes. Silent Night teased her with a deep holiday message. Everything seemed easier, lighter. All movement, all sound, all sensations gathered into a moment. Once the lights were strung, they added ropes comprised of rose-colored pearls. Nick laced the ropes on the tree like an expert.

  “Hey, you’re pretty good at this.” Abby drew another decoration out of a box and headed for the tree.

  He stopped all motion. “I thought you said I couldn’t decorate?”

  She tilted one brow in mock revolt. “You seem to have learned some new skills since I’ve trained you.”

  Nick finished with the rope and stepped back to examine his handiwork. Then he moved closer to her, his gaze going from amused to dangerously inviting in an instant. “Oh, you have everything to do with it. You’ve changed a lot of things about me.”

  “How?”

  “By showing me a part of yourself you haven’t shared with anyone else.”

  Her heart did triple time. Nick’s confession startled Abby more than the fact he’d bought a tree. When he turned back to decorate, she tried to compose herself, but tears came to her eyes. Tears of happiness, not pain, threatened to spill over her lashes. No. She couldn’t cry in front of him again. She’d already poured out so many emotions. Retreating to silence, she took comfort in the quiet, companionable hush. They didn’t need words to communicate. At least not for the present.

  The carolers on the radio started another song, and Abby took a deep breath and listened to the words, drawing on the message in the tune for strength.

  Oh, tidings of comfort and joy. The words meant more now.

  Retrieving a little angel from the box, she handed it to Nick to put on the tree. He stopped and stared at the ornament as if someone had clubbed him.

  “Nick?”

  He held the small angel, dressed in a gauzy pink material trimmed in gold and silver. The angel’s face looked like a chubby baby. He swallowed hard.

  Tears filled his eyes, and the sight of this strong, virile man almost weeping tore her soul. She touched his arm, and still he didn’t move. Nick turned the little ornament over in his hand, then put it on the tree slowly, right in the middle, about halfway up. They’d finished decorating.

  “Nick, what’s wrong?” she asked, her throat tight and dry.

  He sighed, and the tears retreated from his eyes. “Bad memories.”

  “About what?”

  Moving away from her, he sat on the couch. Concerned, she sat beside him.

  “This looks like an ornament Deena bought for... just before Christmas...before...”

  When he didn’t continue, dread replaced the warmth in her heart. “Deena?”

  Taking a deep breath, he looked at her. “My wife Deena was killed in a car accident two years ago today. She was six months pregnant.”

  13

  Nick’s revelation hammered home. She hadn’t imagined him married, much less a father. She felt selfish.

  His pain, his overwhelming grief far outreached what her uncle had done to her. “Nick. Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

  “I should have mentioned it before.” Subdued, he gazed at the tree. “But it’s always been so damned painful. It’s a long time coming. Getting away from the big city and job pressures weren’t the only things I was running away from.”

  It all made perfect sense to her now. Nick’s escape had in some ways been exactly the opposite of hers. She’d tried to reshape her Christmas to make it whole. He’d avoided his family to forget horrible memories.

  “Talk to me,” she whispered, putting her arm around his shoulder. “I’m a good listener.”

  “I can’t,” Nick said, standing to go back to the tree. “I can’t talk about it right now.”

  Abby admitted in her heart that it hurt. Abby ached for his loss, and moreover, she hurt because he wouldn’t share with her though she’d revealed one of her deepest secrets. As Nick stared at the tree, she sensed the powerful thread between them loosen. Oh, no. No.

  With an inevitable sense of loss, she stood and went back to decorating. He didn’t look at her and she didn’t look at him. The silence mocked Abby, calling her a coward. Once again she hadn’t confronted a truth. She hadn’t told him it mattered that he wouldn’t share his grief. Like her experience with her aunt and uncle, she let fear take control. Take ownership over her life. The threads tightened like rough rope, threatening to choke Abby and abrade her sensitive skin.

  You always were too damned sensitive.

  Her uncle’s harsh words, first spoken to her when Abby had entered her teen years, reminded her of the real truth. Yes, she was sensitive. What a curse. What a rotten curse.

  When the quiet grew cold and hard, Abby stopped decorating. “I’d better get home.”

  Surprise entered his eyes. “Why?”

  “I’ve—I’ve got things to do to get ready for my aunt and uncle.”

  For a moment he looked like he’d protest, but then he simply nodded. “I understand.”

  He walked her out to her car and saw her off, and the closed mask on his face kept her from reaching out to kiss him. As she drove out of the parking lot winter ice frosted the land around her and threatened to chill her heart.

  Abby gazed into the bathroom mirror, and then sighed.

  God, she looked like someone had run over her with a backhoe. Her hair wouldn’t cooperate. Flat and dull. Her complexion appeared pasty, even though she wore makeup.

  She knew why.

  Try four hours of sleep. That would do the trick. Worrying about Nick had contributed to her restless night.

  After climbing from bed at four this morning, she’d rushed through a shower and eaten breakfast.

  Leaving the bathroom, she turned on her computer and checked e-mail, trying to keep busy while waiting for Uncle Dick-head and Aunt Cassandra to arrive. Twitchy, she rushed through the e-mail and then shut off the computer.

  In some sense Abby had liked the idea she didn’t have to go into the store until later in the afternoon. With Nick, Edna, and Becca handling Elf Books, she’d be free to meet with her aunt and uncle.

  Okay, so she had to come clean. She really wanted to take her time arriving at work because seeing Nick again would resurrect rough feelings. She’d tried to feel charitable. So he just couldn’t talk about his wife’s death. Even now the knowledge that he’d once married and almost had a child rocked Abby’s foundations. Why? Did she really expect that a handsome, successful thirty-two year old man wouldn’t have married by now?

  No.

  She’d expected him to say something about his loss earlier.

 
Sinking onto the couch, Abby forced herself to read. She couldn’t sit here and obsess. All it would do is make her nervous.

  When the doorbell rang at ten o’clock, she almost had a cardiac arrest. Her first thought, amazingly enough, was that Nick had come by. Ridiculous thought. Rushing to the door, she looked through the peephole and saw her aunt’s stoic expression, and her uncle’s usual smirk.

  Crap. Well, it’s now or never.

  Abby opened the door, and instantly Aunt Cassandra’s face broke in to an unexpected smile. It transformed the normally tight-faced woman she’d always known. In fact, Aunt Cassandra looked considerably different than the last time Abby had seen her two years ago, Christmas. She’d colored her salt-and-pepper hair to a stunning white, giving her usually sallow complexion a brightness it had never possessed before.

  Aunt Cassandra unzipped her coat immediately, displaying clothes Abby never expected to see her aunt occupying in ten thousand years. Her Christmas sweater and jeans with boots was a total departure from her normal uniform of drab grays, browns and tailored suits. Abby’s surprise rendered her speechless.

  “Abby dear! So wonderful to see you.” Enveloping Abby in a huge hug, Aunt Cassandra patted her. “The roads are so icy right now and these Colorado drivers...”

  “Nice to see you,” Abby murmured as she drew back from the surprise affection and looked at her uncle. “Uncle Dick.”

  He nodded and stepped into the foyer, making no attempt to hug her. Relieved, she ushered them into the house. Her uncle looked the same. If anything, his brown hair had turned grayer and his thin, rough face appeared more lined. His short, gray beard covered some of his age well. Always tall and gangly, he looked thinner. Almost gaunt. Now he looked almost like Abe Lincoln. His conservative slacks and green sweater had seen better days. What an image.

  “This is a great house, Abby. Shows your success,” he said.

  His gravely voice made Abby shiver, and the reaction disturbed her as deeply now as it had years ago. God, she couldn’t help but hate this man for what he’d done all those years ago.