Christmas Kisses & Mistletoe Wishes: A Holiday Romance Boxset (Duet)

by Kate Kisset

  She’d changed out of her jeans for the party and wore a little black dress that displayed every curve. And, oh . . . slay him now. Monique had high heels on. The way her hips swayed over smooth, tapered legs with strides so long, lean and sexy made him wonder why she’d ever think about wearing pants.

  “No idea. I wasn’t counting.”

  “Is that wine for me?” Monique pointed to the glass on the coffee table.

  “I poured it just for you.” He scooted over and patted the cushion beside him. “Join me.”

  “Give me a minute to tuck in Adele. I’ll be right back.”

  Chapter Five

  Monique dried her face on the towel and glanced at the bathroom clock. In seven hours she’d start all over again. Facing a quick work turnaround tomorrow morning, she needed to get ready for bed. If Trace didn’t want to have a glass of wine with her bare, makeup-less face, it was his problem. After changing into the least attractive pajamas she owned, the ones with the faded blue snowmen with unnerving faces, she ambled to her closet. If she accidentally let her guard down, she’d need extra fortification against Trace’s possible roaming hands. Monique pulled a thick, fuzzy bathrobe covered with Santa hats off the hanger and put it on. After tying the sash in a knot, she traipsed into the living room.

  “Ahh...” she said, sinking into the couch and bumping his arm. “This is much better.” She propped her jingle bell sock-covered feet on the coffee table and reclined into the cushions. “You have no idea.”

  “Wine?” Trace handed her a glass. “So I take it you’re not mad about me staying here.”

  “No.” She tipped the glass to her lips and savored her first sip of the night. A subtle taste of berries covered her tongue and the mellow liquid trickled down her throat. “Joe texted me. I’m happy we—Nana—could take you in. She only rents four of the rooms here.”

  Trace leaned against her shoulder with his arm. Luckily her bulky bathrobe diffused some of the tingling sensations coursing through her body. It was a good thing she’d changed into fuzzy armor. If she hadn’t had the presence of mind to get out of that cocktail dress, she’d be naked under the tree in no time. Nana wouldn’t appreciate having heart failure.

  Monique took another sip and tried to pretend the living, breathing aphrodisiac known as Trace wasn’t sitting next to her. The second she’d read Joe’s text about Trace needing a place to stay, she’d intended to avoid him at all costs. What possessed her to have a glass of wine with him in front of the tree?

  It was nothing like the glamorous, fairy-lit wine bottle spectacle she’d decorated for the Santinos. Nana’s handmade beaded ornaments, the white string Christmas tree Adele made at preschool, and other homespun collectables hung amidst colorful lights, making the tree ooze with charm. Congratulating herself on another job well done, Monique glimpsed at Trace. Above his well-worn jeans, extremely well-worn, a black V-neck T-shirt covered his impressive chest. His biceps looked ready to latch on to.

  He raised a brow over his flashing eyes. “Are you going to tell me how it went tonight?”

  “Smooth as silk. Well, my part, at least. Thank God, because Michael’s father and all of his brothers came. Of course, there were the usual suspects who drank a bit too much. And we didn’t anticipate calling so many extra cabs and Ubers to get them home, but I think, overall, Michael was pleased. Fingers crossed, I’m moving up from tour guide to promotions assistant.”

  “They’d be crazy not to promote you.”

  She sighed, happy he’d thought enough to ask about her evening. “I’m pooped. I don’t think I’ve ever decorated a tree or turned a rabbit into a reindeer so fast. Record time.” Monique reached down and rubbed her big toe. “I don’t think I should’ve worn those new shoes tonight though.”

  “Here, I’m an expert.” Trace surprised her by moving her feet to his lap.

  Clutching her right foot, Trace rubbed the bottom and worked his fingers into her sore tendons. Basking in relief, Monique mumbled, “I don’t think you know what you’re getting into, because if you keep doing that, I won’t let you stop.”

  “Better?” He rolled his knuckles over her arch.

  “It feels like heaven.” She started to close her eyes. “Please don’t bring me back down to earth.”

  “Never.”

  Mesmerized by the expert touch of his strong hands, Monique shifted her arm and rested her glass on the table. Then, she repositioned her back against the armrest, allowing Trace full access to her aching feet. As pretty as those heels were, they were brutal. All at once she realized what on earth she was doing and pulled her feet away from his hands. Just because they used to date didn’t give him the right to give her toes an orgasm. “Much better. My feet are good now. Thank you.”

  “Nice try.” Trace locked a grip on her feet and brought them back to his lap. “The customer is always right.” He leveled a sly grin. “Hey, I paid for a room. You said so yourself.” Before she could say a word or yank her feet back, he tightened his clasp around them. “No moving.”

  Trace’s forehead creased with his serious expression. She laughed at the way he narrowed his eyes, committing to hold on to her poor toes for dear life.

  She sighed, relaxing again. Trace had the ability to calm her as fast as he excited her, like no one else. Monique closed her eyes and leaned back letting him press his thumbs against the balls of her feet. “Well, as long as you insist, my toes would like multiple orgasms please.” He chuckled. “You have no idea how good that feels. Adele is always giving me foot rubs, but her hands just don’t have the strength.”

  “You’ve had a rough day.” Seemingly dedicated to the task of giving her pleasure, he placed her right foot beside him on the couch and picked up her left. Applying pressure, Trace started at her heel, and pressed his thumbs over her sole and up to the ball of her foot. He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t seem like the past six years have been a walk in the park either. Why did you pick Jarod over me?”

  She opened her eyes. “But I didn’t.” Shocked he’d bring Jarod into this sweet moment, Monique drew her legs up. She straightened her back against the armrest. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Trace shrugged, picking up his glass. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about.”

  The fatigue from her day switched to a Mayday, Mayday alarm waiting for his response. Her heart pounded in her chest while he swallowed a sip of wine and placed the goblet back on the coffee table.

  “Why do I ask?” He gestured to the entry hall leading to their bedrooms and she knew he was referring to Adele. Trace ran a hand over the cover of The Poky Little Puppy’s First Christmas book beside him. “Adele’s four. It doesn’t seem like you wasted much time finding someone new.”

  She gaped at him. “I did—I mean—I didn’t.” Pressing her thumb and index fingers against her forehead, she hoped to relieve the stress knotting in her head.

  Trace pulled one of her trembling hands away from her face and held it. “Enough time has passed.”

  The corners of his eyes drooped, and he blinked several times. Monique could usually read his thoughts from his facial expressions alone. They used to joke about how he could never become a poker player because of it. But this time, Monique didn’t have a clue.

  “I won’t hate you, I promise. No matter what. Just tell me why. The real reason.” His grip around her hand tightened. “Why didn’t you come with me, Monique?”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Not able to maintain eye contact any longer, she studied his hand and the way his fingers curved around hers. At some point in their lives, she knew they might meet again and have this conversation, but had dreaded the thought. It took every ounce of her energy to focus on the future. She hated dredging up the past, and wasn’t prepared to have this discussion now. After Monique made the decision to stay home, Trace never called, never texted, or emailed. They never spoke to each other again.

  “Try.”

&nbs
p; Monique closed her eyes for an instant, trying to get a handle on the right words. Then she sat up straight and looked him in the eye. “We only dated for six months, Trace, not that they weren’t great months, they were.” Of course she’d thought of him over the years... “But the gears changed quickly with your career. With your new manager, and album, contracts, the charts, tour dates . . . You were moving so fast. I couldn’t catch up.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “You wanted me to just jump on a bus, travel around the country, and leave my family. I wasn’t sure. And then, with all of your new fans going crazy over yo—”

  “You didn’t trust me.”

  “I knew all about what the music industry did to couples.” She shook her head. “It felt like a bad idea. Someone is always getting their heart broken and the shattered pieces are plastered all over the internet. I didn’t want it to happen to me.”

  Trace shook his head and leaned back against the cushions, staring at the fireplace. “What did I ever do to make you mistrust me?”

  “Nothing.” Monique drew a breath, facing her chicken-heartedness. Trace was the most trustworthy man she’d ever known. His career made her skittish, the unknown had made her fearful, and she’d bailed. “I couldn’t bring myself to leave with you.” She rubbed his arm. “I have wondered though, what might’ve happened with us... but it doesn’t matter now. It took a year for me to start dating Jarod by the way, and maybe it wasn’t long enough to get over you. I thought I met him at the right time. I wanted to settle down and he seemed stable.”

  “Jarod seemed stable?” Trace tipped his head back. “More stable than me?”

  “I didn’t know about his gambling addiction, okay? Completely clueless.” She blew a strand of hair from her face. “Trust me. I’m paying for every mistake I made with Jarod, more than you know.”

  Silence hung in the air for an exasperatingly long moment. Then Trace sighed, adjusted his position on the sofa and rested his hand on the armrest behind her neck. The skin on skin contact at the nape of her neck sent tingles racing through her. Monique didn’t move until he pulled her up and adjusted her so her head nestled in the crook of his arm. His smooth bicep smelled of winter oranges and cashmere. The rims around his pupils were a deep emerald green.

  Bringing his hand to her face, he brushed her cheek, scorching her skin with his fingertips. “You didn’t trust me, Monique. That’s the real reason you didn’t come with me.”

  She struggled for breath and her heart pounded in a tangle of surprise and the pent-up desire she’d stored for six years. Trace’s fingertips traveled to her jawline. He tilted her face up, making it impossible to hide from his stare.

  “What does it matter now?” Her words came out all air.

  “It matters to me.” Trace brushed his lips against hers and she shivered. “Do you think you could you ever trust me?”

  She wished she could lie and tell him what he wanted to hear, but told him the truth. “I don’t know.”

  “What did he do to you?” The searing sensation of Trace’s lips coming down on hers, struck like a match. Kissing her, Trace reached around her back, bringing her closer, covering her chest with his.

  Monique clung to his shoulders and tried to push away the thoughts racing through her brain. Why did I let him go without me? How many more days will he stay? How will I feel when he’s gone? The heat emanating from his lips spread instantly, burning through her.

  Lost in a haze of emotions, the Christmas tree lights whirled and her head spun. His lips were softer than she remembered and he tasted like wine. With Trace’s thick muscles against her, she gave way to the delicious feeling of his weight claiming her underneath him and pressing her back deeper into the couch. His tongue found hers and a moan escaped him, shooting sparks down her spine. Trace kissed her harder, more urgently. Set on fire, Monique poured every answer to his questions into her kiss.

  “Wow,” he whispered against her lips.

  Staring into his burning eyes, she caught a breath. “I’ve missed you too.”

  AFTER AN HOUR ON THE couch with Trace, Monique barely made it out of the living room with her snowman pajamas intact. With her top unbuttoned under her bathrobe, she climbed into bed, robe and all. She plopped her head on the mattress and stared straight up at the ceiling. Then she fluffed her pillow and rolled to the side, trying to find a comfortable position.

  Finally, she threw off the covers and got up. Light from the full moon drifted through the edges of the shade. Monique slipped out of her robe and buttoned her top on the way to the window. Giving up on getting five hours of sleep, she opened the shade. And although the temperature had dropped into the forties, she opened the window, hungry for fresh air and clear thoughts.

  She refused to feel guilty about kissing Trace. Regrets were against her religion. Monique had managed to put Jarod behind her, despite all the lying, conniving and thieving he’d put her through. He’d sold her a line of bull when she agreed to marry him, and she owned it. Without making excuses, she’d continue cleaning up the mess she created until it disappeared.

  Having Adele changed her. When Monique admitted to Trace she wasn't sure she could trust him, she hadn’t been lying. And although she loved kissing him, becoming any closer to Trace, knowing he would leave in a few days, would be too much of a risk. As Adele's mother, she didn't have the luxury of making any more mistakes.

  Chapter Six

  Monique strolled into the smell of bacon in the kitchen at seven thirty-seven. Her heels clacked over the vintage black and white tiles on the way to the coffee pot.

  Dressed for school, wearing black leggings and a plaid blouse with frilly cuffs, Adele sat at the table polishing off pancakes with Nana and Trace.

  “Good morning.” Trace winked. Wearing navy blue, with hair still damp from the shower, he looked fresh, tousled and entirely edible.

  Although she usually couldn’t function without coffee, the wink put every cell of her body into high gear. She opted to ignore the sudden energy blast and pretend last night didn’t happen. No more kissing. Monique lifted the coffee pot and poured into one of the cups waiting for guests on the counter. “Did breakfast go okay this morning, Nana? Light crowd in here . . . Oh, good morning, Trace.”

  “Magnolia and Geranium rooms aren't up yet.” Nana checked the antique metal wall clock. “The Edwards left early and grabbed a couple of muffins on their way out.”

  “Well I don’t blame them for wanting your pastries.” Monique winked at Nana and then, deciding she needed a kiss, strolled to the table and planted one on her cheek. “Honey, get your jacket, we're running late.” On her way to the refrigerator, Adele scurried into her bedroom.

  “I can take Adele to school if it would help.” Trace flashed his sparkling eyes over his plate.

  Deciding how to respond, Monique opened the fridge door, and pulled out a lunchbox. She placed it on the counter near the muffins. “Thank you, Trace, but Adele and I have a routine we need to stick to.” She sniffed the pastry, determined it was one of her favorites, pumpkin, and wrapped it in a paper towel. She nonchalantly glanced at him. Rubbing his luscious bottom lip with his index finger, Trace stared out the kitchen window.

  “Come on, Adele,” she yelled, shoving the treat into her purse. “I’m going to be late for work.”

  Trace rose from the table and pulled keys out of his pocket. “Monique, I have a rental car. It’s no problem for me to drive Adele to school. Then you wouldn't have to rush to the winery.”

  “I know it might not seem like it to you,”—Adele dashed to the counter and Monique made sure her dainty hands grabbed the lunchbox— “but I have this under control.”

  She didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but couldn’t allow him to start taking over responsibilities. It would only confuse and upset Adele when Trace left. Her father let her down enough.

  “See?” She smiled, hoping he knew she wasn’t angry with him. “We're all set. We don't need any help, but thank you, Trace. Now, go kiss Nana go
od-bye, Adele.”

  Holding her lunch, with her red jacket buttoned to the top, Adele hurried to the table and grasped her great-grandmother's neck with her hands. Nana pulled her onto her lap, allowing Adele to place a loud kiss on her cheek. “Mama, can I give Mr. Trace a kiss too, since you really like him? I saw you kissing him last night.”

  TRACE SCOLDED HIMSELF for bringing up the past with Monique. With limited time in St. Helena, he should be focusing on settling his uncle’s estate. Yet he couldn’t help asking the question he’d only guessed the answer to for years. He appreciated her honesty. He had a feeling Monique didn’t trust that his feelings for her were real. He agreed his career fast-tracked quickly. He could barely keep up with the demands himself. And he understood why she’d been reluctant to leave with him. At the time, her mom and dad were still living in St. Helena. But, when Monique confessed she might not ever be able to trust him, it flat out shocked him. On the other hand, her sweet lips and sexy mouth gave him an entirely different story when they kissed. Trace ran a hand through his hair.

  Mountains of paper, overflowing trash on the floor, and at least twenty dirty coffee cups added another level to his unrelenting distraction. Why Napa Pines and Wines employees referred to the filthy eight by eight broom closet Trace had commandeered as an office was anyone's guess. The meeting with Jim Hill, the accountant Michael Santino had recommended, hadn't gone well this morning.

  Ella Fitzgerald’s dulcet pipes crooned “Winter Wonderland” outside the open door, lifting his spirit. As the music filtered in from the gift shop, thoughts of Monique’s mouth seeped back into his brain. Instead of concentrating on organizing the desk as he’d planned, Trace invented lyrics to Ella’s song to distract himself from thinking about her. He dumped another stack of junk mail into the recycle bin. Monique’s eyes are a glistening... Her sexy lips I was kissing... Trace gathered the handful of binders Jim Hill left behind and shoved them back into the cabinet. Her body so tight... I want more tonight... Kissing a Monique wonderland... He slammed the cabinet drawer shut and stared at the popcorn ceiling.