A Christmas Proposition

by Jessica Lemmon

“What’s in it for her?”

  He knew what Chase was asking. What did Stefanie have to gain from this marriage? The way Chase saw it, the decks were unevenly stacked—in Emmett’s favor.

  “She can decide that for herself. You know where my loyalty lies.”

  “I know where it used to lie.” Chase raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I’ve been usurped.”

  “She is the queen,” Emmett murmured against the rim of his glass, unable to conceal a knowing smile. Chase didn’t hear him. The countdown had started at the fifteen-second mark and the crowd had joined in.

  Miriam rushed over to take Chase’s hand and dragged him into the sea of partygoers. That left Stefanie and Emmett standing at separate tables eyeing each other through the melee.

  She lifted her flute of champagne in silent cheers as the countdown raged on.

  Five...

  Four...

  Emmett set aside his rocks glass and walked toward her, breaching the gap by half. She could meet him halfway if she wanted to. He wouldn’t force her.

  Three...

  She started toward him, confidence making her eyes sparkle like her shimmery dress.

  Two...

  One!

  With shouts of “Happy New Year” on the air, he scooped his wife into his arms and kissed her long and hard. The same way he would make love to her in his bed tonight.

  In their bed tonight.

  When they parted, her eyes glazed with lust as the gala’s guests warbled along to “Auld Lang Syne.”

  His wife opened her mouth to join in, and her eyes never left his.

  What he saw in their depths shook him to the core. Her aquamarine gaze revealed nothing short of adoration. Lust darkened her pupils, too, but beneath that there was more.

  Much more than he’d anticipated.

  She climbed to her toes, her warm breath brushing over his cheek. His balls tightened. He wanted this woman again already. When she whispered in his ear, he prayed that it’d be a request he could accommodate and not the three-word phrase she’d expect him to return.

  But instead of that three-word bomb, she dropped a different one—one that sizzled his nerve endings and had him bolting for the door a nanosecond later. Three words shaped by the promise of her capable mouth.

  “Take me home.”

  * * *

  “I’m falling in love with him and I have no idea what to do.” Stef barged into Penelope’s office, the words exiting her mouth before she could register what she was seeing.

  “Oh my God!” She slapped her hand over her eyes.

  “Get the hell out!” Zach shouted before taking the Lord’s name in vain in a more colorful way than she had. Unfortunately, the hand that covered her eyes had been the slightest bit delayed, so she’d gotten an eyeful of her brother’s naked rear.

  “I had an appointment!” Stef yelled, hand still protecting her retinas as she backed from the office. She shut the door as Penelope laughed, apparently finding this very unfunny situation hilarious.

  “I’m sorry, Stef!” Pen called out around another laugh. “I lost track of the time.”

  Zach was still swearing. He also muttered something about how they needed to move farther away from his family, but Stefanie didn’t think he meant that part.

  Pen soothed him with words Stef couldn’t make out, and when those words gave way to the telltale slurping sound of long kisses, Stef decided to help herself to something from the kitchen.

  Conveniently, the kitchen was on the opposite side of the house, far away from her canoodling brother and sister-in-law.

  More minutes than she would’ve liked to acknowledge later, her brother entered his kitchen, his nostrils flared and his hair a wreck. There was no sign of his always present “good ole boy” smile and dimple.

  “I had an appointment,” Stef insisted before munching another potato chip.

  “She did.” Penelope walked in behind Zach and pinched his butt. He spun around and kissed her, his smile and dimple returning.

  Stef let out a wistful sigh.

  “All right, all right. Let’s give Stef a break.” Pen patted his face and smiled.

  “I have to go back to the office. See you tonight.” His murmur was low and, yes, seductive. Stef hadn’t missed that.

  “As for you...” He turned to Stef, serious again. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear what you said when you barged in there. I can’t handle that right now.”

  “You! I’m the one who got a look at your full moon while you were in a very tender position with your wife. All you had to hear was my feelings for Emmett.”

  “No.” Zach put his hands out in front of him as if that could keep her from saying any more offending words. “I have to go.”

  Once he was gone, she shook her head at Pen. “And you love him.”

  “As much as hot cocoa at Christmastime.”

  Stef had to agree that her favorite beverage during her favorite holiday was fabulous. “That’s the best.”

  She munched another chip, but her sudden craving for cocoa ruined the salty bite.

  Pen filled a water glass from a pitcher in the fridge and sat down at the breakfast bar beside her. “You’re falling for your husband.”

  “I think so. Why are you shaking your head?”

  Had Stefanie lost her one and only confidant? Did Pen think Stef was too young, too caught up, too whatever to know what love was?

  “I’ve seen this happen before. This isn’t my first time helping clients navigate a marriage of convenience, you know.”

  Hope flared in Stefanie’s chest. “You mean...couples who started out like Emmett and me ended up staying together?”

  She nodded. “I’m not saying I have the success rate of eHarmony or anything, but I have been invited to a lot of anniversary parties.”

  “Your shirt’s buttoned wrong.” Stef grinned.

  “Brat.” Pen winked to let Stef know she was kidding before rebuttoning her shirt. “Talk to me.”

  Stefanie did talk to her, and it came out in one long stream of consciousness diatribe.

  “I’m falling in love with Emmett and I don’t want to tell him because I’m afraid he’ll freak out since we’ve been married for about thirty seconds. But how long is long enough to admit you’re in love with someone? Am I supposed to draw up an agreement or contract about that, too? Is no one allowed to share their feels until we’re sure Chase is reelected?”

  “Oh my heavens. All right.” Pen gripped Stefanie’s shoulders. “Listen. You were sitting in this kitchen when Zach was considering buying me an island when he and I were on the rocks.”

  “True. He was racking his brain about how to win you back.” Stef remembered it well. Her blockhead brother had no idea he was in love with Pen when it was obvious to anyone watching that he’d fallen for her so hard he was sick over it.

  “That’s partially my fault,” Pen said.

  “I could never blame you. Not when it’s so much easier to blame my idiot brother.” Stef smiled affectionately.

  “I didn’t tell Zach how I felt. He didn’t know I loved him. We could’ve saved some heartbreak if I’d been honest.”

  “But it worked out in the end.” At the time Pen had been pregnant with Olivia and was juggling her entire life around a pretend engagement to Zach. Who could blame her for clamming up?

  “How does Emmett feel?”

  “Well, he loves going to bed with me.”

  “God in heaven” came a gruff, pained voice. “Forgot my keys,” Zach called from the foyer. “I’m leaving now.”

  The door opened and shut and Stefanie shook her head. “He’s so screwed when Olivia is old enough to date.”

  “Luckily, we have many, many years before that possibility.” Pen smiled. “You and Emmett are compatible physically...but is there more?”


  “For me there is, but it’s probably best to wait to tell him how I feel. Just a little while. Until I’m sure that it’s real.”

  Pen nodded. “In your circumstances, I think that’s very smart. You don’t want to go off half-cocked and then realize you were wrapped up in the moment.”

  “Right. Okay.” Stef felt better already. “So...how long should I wait?”

  “Not too long. Follow your heart.”

  “My gut’s more reliable.”

  “Then follow your gut. You’ve got this.”

  Twenty-One

  “I miss Oscar.” Stefanie looked cute slumped in a padded chair at the classy downtown restaurant.

  Sunday had stopped to pick up her beloved cat this morning, which also happened to be Sunday. The second his ex left his town house, Stefanie had thrown her arms around him and announced they were going to brunch.

  He couldn’t argue. Not after his wife had dealt with his ex-girlfriend and was forced to say goodbye to her temporary cat.

  The first sip of coffee hit his tongue like battery acid. “What the hell?”

  “It’s vanilla cinnamon. Their house specialty,” Stef chirped.

  “It’s repulsive.”

  She tsk-tsked and reached over to touch the corner of his frown. He waved the waitress over while Stef accused him of being a “spoilsport” and requested coffee that didn’t taste like a Christmas tree was sitting in his mug.

  “Salmon Benedict. How yummy does that sound?” Stef asked as she perused the one-sheet menu.

  He was ordering off the menu. He didn’t want foie gras with baby greens or savory pancakes with chives. He wanted coffee—unflavored, thank you very much—two eggs over easy and three slices of whole-wheat toast.

  He still didn’t understand the concept of “brunch.” A first meal was breakfast. Period. No matter what time it was eaten.

  About twenty minutes later, Emmett was in the midst of changing his mind.

  He dug into his eggs over easy and found himself enjoying “brunch” with his wife.

  Her stack of waffles resembled the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and he begrudgingly admired her technique of syrup and butter application. He polished off his plate, finished hers when she said she was full and leaned back to palm his very satisfied stomach as the waitress refilled his coffee mug.

  “How’s Chase’s campaign going?” Stef asked, hands wrapped around her Christmas potion.

  “You didn’t ruin his chances, if that’s what you’re asking,” Emmett said after a furtive look around.

  They weren’t news any longer. Two weeks of wedded bliss later and everyone was bored of them. According to Penelope, the Dallas Duchess was too busy reporting on dating Blake Eastwood herself, if that could be believed.

  Who knew what was real anymore?

  Except Emmett was beginning to suspect his own marriage was realer than anyone knew. As such, there was something he needed to tell Stefanie that he hadn’t come clean about yet.

  “I told him, by the way,” he said.

  “Told...Chase? Told him what?”

  “No. I told my dad.”

  Her eyes widened. He went quiet while the waitress cleared their table and dropped off the check. Once she’d gone, Emmett rested his hands on his thighs and watched Stefanie carefully.

  “You talked to your dad?”

  “He called the mayor’s office and left a message. He’d heard about the wedding and wanted to know if it was true. I don’t tell him much. I never confide in him. But this... You’re important.”

  He could see on her face what that meant to her—that he’d march into territories unknown for her. That he’d put himself in a position of discomfort for her. He would. Repeatedly, and for as long as she asked him to.

  “I wanted Dad to hear the truth and I wanted him to hear it from me.”

  “That must’ve been hard for you.” Her brow crimped. Concerned for him still. She was amazing.

  “I know I haven’t had many nice things to say about him but I don’t think he’s interested in your money. Even if he was, I’d never let him touch a red cent.”

  “Emmett.” Stef’s expression broadcast sincerity. “I don’t think that. But if he needed it—”

  “He doesn’t.” Emmett reclaimed his mug. “He said he hoped we were happy.”

  He took a drink, aware that the conversation was on hold. A glance at his wife’s unreadable expression proved him right.

  “Are you...?” He paused, not sure he wanted an answer. “Happy?”

  She leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “Yes.”

  So trusting. So beautiful. And all his.

  For now.

  “You okay?” he asked when Stefanie’s eyes filled with concern.

  “No. I mean, yes.” She pulled her hand away and folded her hands in her lap. She blew out a breath, her eyes on the crumbs on the table in front of her.

  “Stef?”

  She met his eyes and blurted out, “I’m in love with you.”

  His world stopped on a dime, the restaurant fading into the background, the world canting to one side like an earthquake had opened the ground beneath them.

  “My feelings for you tipped into L-word territory a while ago. I was waiting to tell you until the right moment. I guess that’s now,” she mumbled at the edge of her mug. “It’s not like it’s going away.”

  “Stefanie.”

  “I know.” She closed her eyes. “I know.”

  At the idea of this being more—of having more—every part of him bristled. He couldn’t love her the way she needed to be loved—the way she deserved to be loved. His past was dark, the cracks filled in with loss and distance. He couldn’t ask her to be a permanent part of his life.

  Stefanie was life. Life and verve and wealth. She was Ferguson royalty. Emmett...wasn’t.

  Even as he resisted, his mind played a motion picture of what it could mean to love his wife—a wife who loved him.

  Them living in his town house or a house that they bought together. A daughter with blond ringlets, a son who would never know the meaning of neglect. Making love to Stefanie in the morning. Making love to Stefanie in the evening. Showering her with affection and gifts and serving at her pleasure...

  But then he considered the rest of her family. Chase had warned Emmett not to let her get too close. How far would he take it when he learned how Stef felt? Would the mayor fire his head of security? And if Emmett lost his job, then what would he do? He wouldn’t let Stefanie support both of them.

  The idea of being a husband who didn’t live up to his responsibilities, who was unable to provide for his wife—was abhorrent.

  Even if he acknowledged his dormant feelings—even if he uncovered that he felt a dangerous combination of love and respect for her alongside the terror of losing her—he would ignore those feelings.

  He’d ignore what he felt for her because she deserved better than the pittance he could offer.

  He’d made a habit of living in the present. He didn’t look back. He didn’t look forward. And presently, they had a marriage based on convenience and a hell of a lot of attraction.

  That was it.

  His big heart suffered another fissure knowing he’d have to let her go. Knowing that for him, goodbye would leave another permanent scar of loss in his soul. But he had plenty of memories. He’d forever be grateful for the time he’d spent with her.

  That, as much as it ached him to the bone, would have to be enough.

  * * *

  Her husband had turned to stone at her announcement. Emmett glared at his cooling coffee as if attempting to heat it with laser vision.

  She’d considered keeping the fact that she loved him to herself, but she was tired of keeping things to herself. She was tired of playing it safe where he was concerned. She
’d let her brother’s election hold her back—let it keep her from doing what she really wanted for long enough.

  Emmett had stepped way out of his comfort zone to contact his dad about her. And then he’d told her that she was important, and by the time he’d made vows to protect the Ferguson fortune and her well-being... Well, she’d been swept up.

  Clarity blew in like a fierce storm. She finally knew what she wanted. And what she wanted was to stay married.

  Emmett didn’t mention her “I love you” on the drive home from the restaurant. She hadn’t expected him to, but she’d be lying if she said she wouldn’t have leaped for joy if he had offered up an “I love you, too.”

  In his kitchen, she dropped her purse on the counter and watched as Emmett hung his keys on the hook by the door. He barely glanced her way when he walked by.

  “Hey.” She touched his arm.

  He turned, his eyes slowly climbing from her hand to her face.

  “You probably have to sit with this for a while. I’ve been sitting with it for a while,” she said. “I know it seems fast, but we’ve done something remarkable. We were married. We’re living as husband and wife after knowing each other for a decade. This is something worth exploring and I don’t want you to talk yourself out of it.” She ran her fingers down his arm and squeezed his hand. “You can take your time deciding how you feel about me. I won’t force it, and I won’t pout because you didn’t say it back.”

  “That’s enough.” His voice was gruff. “That’s enough talk about how you feel and how I feel and how this is going to work out. This is temporary. This has always been temporary.”

  “Things change.”

  “You couldn’t possibly know that you love me after only—”

  “Do not finish that sentence. I’m sick to death of people questioning my heart and my will—both of which are mine. Both of which I am the authority on. I, of all people, know how I feel about you.”

  On a deep sigh, he came to her, but not out of anger and not to argue with her. Instead he pulled her close and dropped his forehead on hers. His eyes sank closed and she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on to him as well as to the hope that this meant he accepted how she felt about him.