A Bad Boy for Christmas

by Jessica Lemmon

  Connor, still holding her head, pulled his mouth from hers and tightened his hold on her hip. “Don’t move, Cupcake. I walked in on him and Sofe a number of times. Serves him right.” Hand still warm against her scalp, he kept his eyes on hers.

  From her peripheral, she watched Donovan cross long arms over his chest. “You didn’t see anything.”

  Connor’s lips lifted into an impish smile. “S’mores.”

  Faith turned her head to see Donovan blanch. That was new. His lips pressed into a firm line. “Find me when you’re done.” He stalked out of the room.

  “Do you need to go?” she asked Connor who’d yet to release her.

  “No.” He pulled her close, pressing her body closer, which was saying something considering they were already touching from chest to thighs.

  She’d started something here—something she realized, admittedly too late, that couldn’t continue. Placing her hands on his chest, she applied a bit of pressure. “I shouldn’t have…Um. I’m not really in a position to be kissing anyone.”

  “Not true,” he said, his lips over hers. “You are in the perfect position to be kissed.”

  Before she could argue, his tongue traced her bottom lip before he kissed her top lip. He continued for a while. Slow, drugging kisses using his tongue, his mouth. All the while keeping his hands off her erogenous zones.

  Except she felt as if every part of her body was now an erogenous zone. Like her lower back, where his palm burned. Her hip bone where his other hand rested. Even her cheek where his nose brushed as he slanted his mouth over hers again.

  “Mmm.” That was her. Oh Lord, she was humming against his mouth. A breakdown. She was probably having some sort of breakdown caused by running into Cookie at the market.

  “Connor,” she managed to get out before his lips covered hers again.

  He paused long enough for her to get out her request.

  “I didn’t come in here to make out with you.”

  He grinned, lips temptingly close.

  “I mean it,” she said, sounding very much like she didn’t mean it. “I came in here to relax.”

  He leaned closer so his mouth moved on hers when he asked, “This isn’t relaxing?”

  Hell no. She was revved up, throbbing in places that had no business throbbing. But she couldn’t tell him that. She couldn’t say “yes,” either, because they’d end up kissing some more.

  Oh, that would be nice.

  His mouth pursed again and she said, “Don’t you want to know why I bought an entire box of empty calories?”

  He backed off some and his eyebrows lowered.

  She didn’t want to talk about it, either, but talking about what happened was better than the alternative. Losing herself in his mouth.

  “Not if it makes you sad to talk about it.” He smiled. “Like you like this. Better than you crying.”

  Wow. That was sweet.

  With a sigh, he released her. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a break, then after you tell me your story I get one last kiss.”

  Him and his bets.

  “No deal,” she grumbled.

  He pulled her closer. “Then I’ll take as many as I want now.”

  Fingers over his lips, she acquiesced. “Fine. You get one. Just one.”

  “Tongue?” he teased.

  How could she say no after she went at him tongue first a minute ago? “One kiss. With tongue.”

  Straightening, he gestured to the chairs. She sat primly on the edge of one and he handed over the bakery box before having a seat himself.

  She pulled open the box and tasted a chocolate chip cookie. Sugar. Blessed sugar. Sugar never let her down. Sugar understood.

  “I have been avoiding Abundance Market since I quit. You know that’s how I came to work with Sofie, right? I walked away from my job. I couldn’t stand being around Michael.”

  “Understandable,” Connor growled.

  “Seeing Cookie every day was not good for me, either. I guess that probably gives the both of them too much power.”

  His fingers sifted into her hair to brush the strands away from her face. “No, Cupcake. It makes you smart. There’s nothing wrong with getting away from the person who is causing you pain. Nothing good comes from silently taking it.”

  Again she wondered what his story was. Everyone had a story; everyone had a background. Sometimes they were pretty stories, but most of the time they were stories of pain. The kind of pain that changes a person—makes them the person they end up becoming. She wondered what pain was locked away inside Connor’s heart. But asking was too much like starting something deep, wasn’t it?

  He spoke, then, bringing her thoughts back on track. “So you went in there today.” He dipped his chin at the box of treats. “And then you went to Sugar Hi.”

  “Coping mechanism.”

  “Death by sugar coma.”

  How was it he always made her smile? Even when she didn’t want to. “I went in there to get wine. But instead I found Cookie…wearing the engagement ring Michael came to collect.”

  Connor’s upper lip curled. “Should’ve thrown the bastard off the balcony when I had the chance.”

  She gripped his wrist, smiling bigger, because seriously, who knew he was this sweet? “Thank you.”

  His head dipped into a tight nod.

  “The idea of a curse sounded silly when I first heard it, but after my failed engagement—after seeing a woman wearing the ring that used to be mine…Crazy as it sounds, I’m starting to think it’s real.”

  “Curse?”

  “Crazy.”

  “This I gotta hear.”

  She took a deep breath. Lavender and Connor. A heady mix. “My mother, Linda Shelby, is…eccentric.”

  “Famous, too,” he supplied.

  Yes, that, too. Twenty-five years ago, she wrote a sweeping historical romance followed by ten more books in the series. To readers, she was a legend. To her daughters, sometimes eccentric, sometimes an embarrassment, sometimes controlling. To love Linda Shelby was to accept the fact that she thought of herself first.

  “She believes none of the women in our family get married because of a curse. Weddings have been planned, brides have been dressed and have walked as far as halfway down the aisle, but for one reason or the next, they never wed.” Faith grunted. “She’s nuts.” Then she shook her head, feeling mean-spirited for talking about her mother that way. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I am happy for everything she’s achieved. It makes me proud to see how she’s made a life for her, and my sister Skylar and me.”

  “But…” His eyebrow lifted.

  “But, life has always been about her. Yes, she gives Skylar and me money, and we never want for anything…Except for maybe normalcy.”

  “I can imagine. I hear she has several…male friends.”

  Faith cringed. “Boyfriends. And they are not independent in the least.” She was so not going to talk about her mother’s parade of male models. “Linda shies away from anything traditional. For example, this time of year. Thanksgiving.” She paused for a moment. “I’ve never told anyone this before.”

  He leaned in, interested.

  “I have never had a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “Not ever? Not when you dated? No friends inviting you over?”

  She shook her head. “I always told them we went out of town for a big family reunion. Truth was, my mother would go out for sushi and give Skylar and me pizza money. She doesn’t cook as it is, but Thanksgiving for her is too mainstream to participate in. Christmas, too.”

  “And your ex?”

  She could tell he hadn’t wanted to ask, but was flattered at the same time that he had.

  “Michael’s family lives in Minnesota. He invited me out every year, but I always got the idea he didn’t really want me there. So, I let him have the reprieve, telling him to go without me and I’d spend the holiday with my mom and sister.” She didn’t, though. Skylar was usually with her boyfriend
du jour and Linda was doing her own thing.

  The excuse worked. Michael didn’t have any interest in hanging around her mother or her sister, so year after year, he’d book his flight and leave to visit his family without her. That should have been a clue he wasn’t a keeper. She’d been so blinded by the idea of breaking the curse—of being a part of something meaningful, she’d ignored the warning signs of him not being The One. She’d assumed once they were married, she’d visit his family, but until then…

  It was an out, she realized, frowning. He’d been backing away from her for a long, long time.

  “I can relate to not enjoying the holidays.” Connor was trying to side with her. But he totally missed the mark with that assumption.

  “It’s not that I don’t enjoy them,” she argued, feeling her eyebrows draw in. “I love them. I watch all the old black-and-white movies: Miracle on Thirty-fourth Street, It’s a Wonderful Life. I still keep a book of Norman Rockwell paintings under my bed. Tradition was something I always craved.”

  “You should be around my family. They’d cure you. Traditional to a fault.” He laughed dryly. His eyes went to the plants around him. “This is my least favorite time of year. Everything dies. And it always reminds me of…” He trailed off.

  “Reminds you of what?” she pressed after the silence lingered for more than a few seconds.

  “Nothing.” He stood abruptly, slid his hands into his back pockets. “You came in here to have a minute, collect yourself. I should give you that.”

  She stood, too, confused by the sudden change in atmosphere.

  “Connor?”

  He kicked the white box on the floor with the toe of his boot. “Done?”

  “Yes.”

  He lifted the box and turned to leave the room. “I’d better see what Donovan wanted.”

  “What about your kiss?” she called after him.

  He paused at the antique doors and gave her only his profile when he said, “Later.”

  * * *

  “Let’s have it. No making out in your mansion? That something only you and Sofie get to do?” Connor called to Donovan as he entered the great room.

  He’d left Faith, and the promise of her mouth, to come in here to track down his cock-blocking friend. But it wasn’t all his buddy’s fault. It was the mention of “this time of year” that turned him off. This time of year was when he’d watched the horror unfold before he took his last leave and came home to the Cove permanently.

  Nothing squashed libido faster than the stench of death he’d narrowly avoided—and the mother and child he’d failed so spectacularly.

  “Something else entirely,” Donny answered. Palms flat on the surface of the table, he was examining a stack of papers spread out in front of him.

  Connor glanced over pages of details for houses in the area. Small houses, nothing close to the mansion’s size. “Downsizing?”

  After what he and Sofie went through to keep this place, he hated to think of them moving. This was Donny’s childhood home. Not one with good memories, but in a way—in every way—his birthright.

  “Nah, man,” he answered with a smile. “Scampi would kill me. She loves Pate Mansion. These are comps for the cottage in the back.”

  Ah. The cottage. Connor knew it well. He and his buddy Anthony had been out there clearing brush this summer. Connor had also done some landscaping at Donny’s request. The entire place would be lined with tulips come spring. He’d planted bulbs not long ago.

  “You selling it?” He looked over the comps again.

  “Thinking about it. If guests come to stay, not like they won’t have any privacy in the mansion.”

  Good point. This place had thirty-some rooms. At least a dozen of those were bedrooms, at least ten bathrooms. Privacy was not an issue in Chez Pate.

  “That back two acres could be parceled off, sold,” Donny said. “Make a great home. Plenty of woods separating the properties, so whoever moved there wouldn’t be in our way.”

  “That’s true.” Connor kept the brush cleared and the grass from getting out of control, but he hadn’t touched the trees. There was plenty of coverage, and a private lane with a separate entrance from the road.

  Donovan elbowed Connor and lifted his eyebrows.

  Connor frowned. “What?”

  “The cottage. What about you?”

  “Me? I have a house.”

  “You have a crash pad.” Donovan straightened from the table. “Not unlike the pad I crashed in for seven years in New York.”

  The idea of a home—or the fact that he’d failed to make one—made Connor uncomfortable. So he deflected. “You just don’t want to bother listing it.”

  “True. I did try offering it as a space for Open Arms, but Ruby said they were better suited in modern digs.”

  “Yeah. Guess abused kids and solitude aren’t really a good combo.”

  “No. They’re not.” Donny’s mouth tightened and Connor felt the pull of his friend’s dark emotions in the center of his chest. Donny had been to hell and back as a kid. Then sent himself to purgatory when he left here years ago. Determined to live out his penance in New York, Donny thought he didn’t deserve any good in his life.

  Until Sofie knocked him out with those bright green eyes and her killer curves, and Donny, who’d already loved and left her, fell ass over teakettle for the brunette. Best damn thing that had ever happened to his friend. He’d better keep the mansion for his girl, Connor thought to himself. She deserved nothing less.

  “Anyway,” Donny said, back on task. “I almost hate to ask you this, because I know you’re a landscaper not a handyman…”

  And his buddy knew how much Connor didn’t enjoy being Mr. Fix-it. “You want me to make sure it’s up to code,” he guessed.

  “I can double whatever you’d normally charge. You’ve worked on the mansion. You know my style. Know how to keep it in sync with what we have here. If we don’t end up selling, maybe we can rent it or something.” Eyes back on the comps, he sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Makes sense.” Like he’d leave his friend high and dry. “I’ll start this week.”

  Gratitude was shared with a curt nod. “Just had the electric turned on and the hot tub out back needs attention. Entire place needs winterizing, but there is a backup generator in case the power ever goes out.” Donny continued talking about the details of the house while Connor logged them in his head.

  Much as he hated to admit it, he was looking forward to splitting his time between working on the cottage and his landscaping business. This time of year was slow, and he was not good at sitting idle.

  Busying his hands with the cottage was just the pastime he needed.

  * * *

  Sofie, hands filled with papers, looked up when Faith walked into the office. “Oh, hey. I’m so glad you’re here. I need to talk to you about the toy drive I mentioned last week.”

  Maybe that’s what Donny was talking to Connor about. It better be important for Connor to have sped out of the room and not kissed her again. Not that she was being petty.

  The toy drive Sofie spoke of was her latest brainchild. She was holding a super-fancy Christmas soirée here at the mansion, to be attended by the wealthy residents in the Cove. Guests were asked to bring gifts for children without, and volunteers would wrap, deliver, and follow up with the families after the new year. Faith thought the charity was a perfect idea. And it gave her a chance to play Santa when her Santa moments were few and far between.

  “Yes!” she exclaimed. “I am so excited.”

  Sofie’s face fell.

  Faith twisted her lips. “Aren’t you? This is going to be so fun.”

  “I would be excited if we didn’t have to go out of town for Thanksgiving.” She chewed her lip and gave a forlorn look at her computer screen. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

  Faith came to the edge of Sofie’s desk and pressed her palms into the wood. “You have to go. This is Donny’s family. Essentially.” The members
of Donovan’s actual family, who had left him this mansion, were no longer alive—not that they were worth considering anyway. “This is your chance to spend a holiday with your future family.” She thought back to what she’d confessed to Connor in the greenhouse about her never having a Thanksgiving. Then she thought about Connor’s reaction to the holidays—the opposite of her excitement. “How is Connor taking the news that he will be preparing for Christmas at the mansion?”

  Sofie’s confused expression said it all. Then she said it out loud. “What do you mean?”

  With a sigh, Faith turned and sat at her desk across from her friend’s. “Connor said he didn’t care for the holidays. That his family loved them, but they weren’t for him.”

  Concern dented Sofie’s brow. “Really? Every time I have ever come to him for help with an event, especially if it’s a holiday, he has taken it on without complaint.”

  That sounded like Connor. He put others first more often than not. He put Faith first, too…like when he stayed at her house, getting little-to-no sleep so he could catch the man—the amoebae—who was trying to get in through her patio door.

  “Do you know what happened to him? Anything about Connor’s past?” Concerned that she sounded as if she was prying, Faith covered with, “I mean, I’m just curious…About him.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Sofie smiled a knowing little smile. “Yeah, I heard how ‘curious’ you were a few minutes ago when Donny walked in on you two. I have to say, I’m a little shocked you’re visiting Cougartown.” She winked.

  “Cougar…what?”

  “Connor.” Sofie relinquished her papers and leaned back in her office chair, smugly folding her hands over her waist. “You know he’s a lot younger than you. And I know how you feel about bedding younger men because of your cougar mom.”

  Sweat beaded Faith’s brow. She hadn’t given much thought to how old or young Connor was. Now that her friend was teasing her, however, she found “denial” was not just a river in Egypt but a river she’d like to float down, blissfully unaware of any facts or figures.

  The best way to deter her friend would be to bring up one thing Sofie had never shared.

  “Tell me,” Faith said, a smug smile of her own as she crossed her arms over her chest. “What did Connor mean when he said something about you and Donovan and s’mores?”