Christmas Ever After

by Sarah Morgan

  It couldn’t have been any further removed from the sympathetic talk she’d had with Suzanne.

  “I don’t love him—” She wasn’t even allowed to finish her sentence and half way through the painful hammer of harsh words, she realized that Alec hadn’t left the room. He was standing still, his hand on the door, clearly uncertain whether to leave her or not.

  It was like playing emotional strip poker, she thought numbly.

  Another layer removed. Another layer revealed.

  Her father’s words smashed into her like pebbles caught in the tide. Selfish. A disappointment. Dreamy.

  She waited until he finished talking, added something bland and noncommittal and dropped the phone onto the bed.

  Alec was scowling. “Who the hell was that?”

  She swallowed. “The Judge.”

  “The Judge?”

  “My father.”

  “You call your father the Judge?”

  “Yes, because you always feel as if you’re on trial. Even my brothers call him that. He listens to the evidence and then gives his ruling and it’s never in my favor.” She tried to keep her tone light. “Forget The Good Wife, I could write a script called The Bad Daughter.”

  Alec released the door handle and walked toward her. “You’re upset. More upset than you were about Richard.”

  “Richard was a mistake. The Judge is … family. It’s never easy falling out with family.”

  “Did you know he was going to say all those things?” Alec’s tone was harsh and she nodded, wondering how much he’d heard.

  “I pretty much could have scripted it word for word.”

  “Then why the hell did you answer the phone?”

  “Because not answering simply postpones the inevitable conversation until later. I’d rather get it over with.”

  “But that puts him in control.”

  “He is in control.”

  “Of your life?” He walked back toward her and she shook her head.

  “Not the decisions I make, but he controls the approval ratings and the mood of the household. I’ll be blamed if we have an ice storm at Christmas.”

  “I assume you’re not talking about the weather.”

  She gave a humorless laugh. “When we were young, my brothers and I used to issue weather warnings to each other as shorthand for his mood. ‘Stormy today’ or ‘cloudy with a chance of sunshine.’ Although there wasn’t much sunshine. My father is a very serious man.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him the truth about Richard?”

  “Which part should I tell him? That I don’t even know who he really is? That he might have hit me if I hadn’t moved? What sort of story is that? My father hears solid evidence every day. He would accuse me of being dramatic. A victim of my own creative brain.” And in a way she had been, because she’d imagined that given time things might work out with Richard.

  “Next time, don’t pick up the phone.”

  “That would make the conversation twice as lively when it eventually happens.”

  He was standing right in front of her, legs spread, arms folded. Solid. Strong.

  “So they’re not supporters of independent thought and decision making. What happens if you stand up to him?”

  “I did. I didn’t marry Richard, did I? And they support independent thought as long as those thoughts and decisions align precisely with theirs. If not—” she shrugged “—they have various methods at their disposal for trying to secure the outcome they want.”

  “But you studied art at college, so clearly there have been times in your life where you followed your dreams.”

  “That was one of them.” Turning away from him, she leaned her cheek against the cool of the window and stared out across the winter sky. “My parents were so angry they refused to take me to my halls. They sent me with a driver. Took me a while to live that one down with Brittany and Skylar. They thought I was a spoiled princess.” Remembering that he felt that way about her, too, she gave a short laugh. “I guess you can identify with that. You think the same thing.”

  “Not anymore.” Something in his voice made her turn her head.

  She met his gaze and the look they exchanged was infused with a strange, thickened intimacy.

  Trapped by the burning heat of his dark eyes she felt her heart rate steadily increase. “Turns out we were both wrong about a lot of things.”

  Most of all, this. The deep, dangerous attraction that seeped through her skin, sending luxurious waves of arousal through her body.

  She’d always acknowledged that he was handsome. She was an artist, and she could appreciate a perfect bone structure and a strong masculine jaw as well as the next woman.

  Still, whenever they’d been together the simmering anger had burned off any temptation she might have had to find him attractive.

  But now …

  Something had shifted. Maybe it was the numerous times he’d come to her aid over the past twenty-four hours, or the kindness he’d shown her, but all she could think about was how it would feel to go to bed with him. To slide her hands over those powerful shoulders and press her lips to his skin.

  He had more sex appeal than should have been allowed in one man.

  The moment he’d stepped out of the shower naked was embedded in her brain. It was as if her brain had turned into a Pinterest board, covered with images of Alec. Her mouth felt dry. The only place she wanted to pin him was to the bed.

  Shaken by the power of her feelings, she broke the connection, scooped up her bag and strolled toward the bathroom.

  “Thanks for listening, Alec.”

  As she opened the door, she decided it didn’t really matter where she spent the night. After the look they’d just exchanged, she rated her chances of getting any sleep a big fat zero.

  ALEC ROSE AT seven after a night without sleep.

  He contemplated a cold shower and decided he didn’t want to be in the room with Skylar any longer than was necessary.

  Keeping his eyes averted from the tangle of blond hair, long limbs and bedding strewn across his bed, he dressed quickly and went downstairs.

  It didn’t help that she’d had a restless night, too.

  He wondered if it was the conversation with her father that had kept her shifting in the bed until the early hours. That conversation had played on his mind, adding yet another piece to the picture he was forming of her. A picture that looked nothing like the image he’d had before.

  He’d found it easier when he didn’t know anything about her.

  Easier to consign her to a box in his head labeled Do Not Touch.

  The rest of the house was still asleep and he walked into the kitchen and stared blankly at the coffee machine. Good coffee was one of his father’s enduring passions, and the trusty old machine had been replaced by a fancy Italian machine that appeared to have been designed to the same specifications as a Ferrari.

  “All I want is a damn cup of coffee,” Alec muttered as he stared at the bank of levers and gleaming chrome.

  “Can I help? I speak fluent coffee machine.” Skylar’s voice came from behind him and her slightly husky, morning tone triggered another rush of the same hormones that had kept him awake for most of the night.

  Having spent sleepless hours listing all the reasons why joining her in the bed was a bad idea, he was in a foul mood.

  He’d been counting on having a few quiet hours to regain his equilibrium.

  He’d thought he had the place to himself.

  He certainly wasn’t ready to be polite and sociable.

  Selina had rarely emerged before lunchtime, which had given him half a day of peace.

  Sky, it appeared, wasn’t prepared to extend him the same courtesy.

  She was wide-awake and dressed and even though he knew none of this was her fault, he felt a rush of resentment. “I didn’t expect you to be an early riser.”

  “I’m a morning person.” She eyed him cautiously. “You, on the other hand, clearly are not.”
<
br />   “I love mornings.” Just not this particular morning. He reached for his father’s prized coffee beans and gave the machine a savage look.

  “I don’t think glaring at it will help,” she said mildly. “Turning it on might.”

  Alec braced his hands on the work surface and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about being turned on. He was so damn turned on he wasn’t sure he could walk across the kitchen.

  “I’m probably better off left alone until I wake up properly.”

  She didn’t take the hint. “You’re not likely to wake up until you’ve had coffee. Here, let me.” She nudged him to one side and reached for the coffee beans. “Are you sure you’re a morning person? Because from where I’m standing it doesn’t seem that way.”

  She was standing close to him.

  Far too close.

  The soft, feminine scent of her engulfed him in dizzying waves. He struggled against the impulse to grab her and wake them both up in the most primitive way known to man.

  Instead he gripped the granite counter until his knuckles were white, feeling a rush of frustration that he couldn’t control his feelings.

  “You’re perky for someone with a head injury and jet lag.”

  “I love mornings. Every new day starts full of possibilities. You never know what could happen.”

  He knew exactly what could happen, and he was trying his damnedest to stop it. “You sound like one of those quotes they put on a poster.”

  “Judging from the snarl in your voice, it wasn’t one you would have hung on your wall in college.” Her tone light, she turned to look at him. “If you really are a morning person, then something else is wrong. Did I do something? Say something?”

  The fact that he knew he was being unreasonable did nothing to improve his mood. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  “Alec, your teeth are clenched.”

  “I’m tired. I didn’t have a great night.”

  “Me, neither.” There was a pause while she did something to the coffee machine. “I was lying there wondering whether we should both get naked and make the most of the moment and that lovely big bed. Were you suffering from the same problem?”

  He turned his head slowly. She was still standing close to him and her mouth was curved into a smile of impish amusement. He dragged his gaze upward and saw laughter in her wicked blue eyes.

  His libido punched his intellect unconscious.

  He was doomed.

  “No.” His voice sounded robotic. “I wasn’t.”

  She gave him a long, speculative look and then turned her attention back to the coffee machine. “Right. My mistake. Good job I didn’t jump on you in the night. You probably would have screamed and struggled, and that would have shocked the hell out of your grandmother.”

  Part of him was tempted to confess it hadn’t been a mistake. That she wasn’t wrong. But that would mean taking the first step on a path he had no intention of walking.

  Since Selina, he kept his relationships simple. Some would call it superficial.

  He intended to keep it that way.

  Blood rushed through his body, proving that some parts of him were more awake than others. Still, at least he hadn’t wandered down in his pajamas. He was grateful for that.

  “Jet lag.” His mouth was dry. “The reason I couldn’t sleep was jet lag. How is your head?”

  “The color has changed, but I think it suits me. What do you think?” She lifted her hair and showed him her bruised temple. “Very impressionist. A touch of Monet’s water lilies. Generally one has to be careful with shades of blue and yellow, but this works.”

  On her, everything worked.

  He wondered if it was possible for her to look bad.

  “So you think you can persuade this thing to produce a cup of coffee? It’s new. My father is an enthusiast.”

  “I can see that. This is a great machine. Todd has the same one.”

  “Who is Todd?” He spoke without thinking and saw her eyebrows lift. “Ignore me. None of my business.”

  “Todd is a friend,” she said mildly. “A glass artist. We share studio space.” She turned her attention back to the coffee while he watched. “I’m guessing strong and black.”

  “You guessed right.”

  Her spine was straight, her movements a little less smooth and relaxed than they’d been a moment before.

  He knew he owed her an apology but decided it was safer if she disliked him.

  Safer for him, and definitely safer for her.

  If his rudeness kept her at a distance, then he would have done them both a favor.

  He was terrible at relationships and after what she’d just been through she didn’t need more pain from him.

  He breathed deeply, acknowledging that his strategy wasn’t driven entirely by selfless motives.

  He didn’t need the pain, either. Not the pain, not the guilt, nor the lingering sense of failure that tainted everything that came after.

  It was about self-protection. Self-preservation.

  The coffee machine purred under her expert touch and moments later she put a cup in his hands.

  “Here. I hope this helps.”

  So did he.

  After a night without sleep, a night during which his libido had been wide-awake and having a party all by itself, he needed the caffeine. Sexual arousal appeared to have fried his brain.

  The first cup barely touched the sides of his throat and she made him a second one without being asked.

  “So you’re practical as well as artistic.”

  “I’d argue that making truly excellent coffee is art.” She turned her attention back to the machine and repeated the process for herself.

  Tasting what she’d produced, he wasn’t about to disagree.

  By the time he’d finished the second cup he was feeling more human.

  All he needed now was a bracing walk in the cold air and hopefully he’d be able to make it through the day.

  “You should go back to bed. Relax for a while. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  “Where are you going?”

  To try freezing his hormones. “The dogs need a walk.”

  “Can I come?” She curved her hands round the mug, breathing in the aroma of fresh coffee. “I promise not to talk or be—what did you call it? ‘Perky.’ But I’d love a walk.”

  “You wouldn’t enjoy it. Have you looked out of the window? It’s been snowing most of the night. It’s freezing out there. Slippery underfoot. The windchill is—”

  “Alec, it’s fine.” She finished her coffee and put the mug down. “I get it. You’d rather go on your own. Not a problem. You don’t have to entertain me. I’ll stay here and maybe go exploring later. Have fun.” She turned to walk away and he reached out and caught her arm.

  He knew he should let her go. Why the hell wasn’t he letting her go? “How long would it take you to get dressed?”

  “I’m dressed.” She glanced down at herself, as if to check she wasn’t missing something obvious. “All I need is socks.”

  He glanced down, too. Her feet were bare and he caught a shimmer of pink nail polish on her toes. And that single glance was all it took for him to start seeing her naked again.

  He snatched his hand away as if she were radioactive.

  “Jeans will be useless in the snow. If you slip, they’ll get wet and cling.”

  She was looking at him as if he was a crazy person. “Then I’ll change into something else.”

  “I’m leaving in five minutes. I want to be back to lend a hand in the kitchen before Cathy arrives.” He half hoped she’d tell him there was no way she could be ready that quickly, but she simply put her mug in the dishwasher and headed for the stairs.

  “I can be ready in four.”

  She was as good as her word and before he’d put on his coat and boots she was standing next to him wearing layers of wool and a beaming smile.

  He sighed.

  At least there was no sign of yeste
rday’s vulnerability.

  “You need boots.”

  “I bumped into your mom a moment ago and she said I could borrow hers. We’re about the same size.”

  He found the boots and greeted Church and Nelson, who were crazy with anticipation, their tails wagging wildly as Skylar zipped up her weatherproof jacket.

  Alec made no comment, but he was surprised to see she’d packed something so practical.

  “What happened to the white coat?”

  “That was for show. This is for warmth.”

  “I expected you to spend ages on your makeup.”

  “You think Nelson and Church are going to have a problem with the way I look?”

  No one could possibly have a problem with the way she looked.

  She radiated so much warmth and energy she virtually glowed. It was like standing in a beam of sunshine. And his sister was right. Sky could have starred in a shampoo ad. Her hair flowed over her shoulders like buttermilk blended with honey.

  “I assumed—”

  “Yeah, you do that a lot.” She patted him on the arm. “Don’t feel bad about it. For the record, I don’t tend to wear much makeup unless I’m going to a glitzy event or trying to attract a guy. Since we’ve established you’d rather have sex with a two-headed lizard than climb into bed with me, there doesn’t seem much point in bothering. Shall we go?”

  He shifted with discomfort. “Sky—”

  “What? You don’t have to feel awkward, Alec. I’m not one of those women who thinks every man on the planet has to find her attractive. I rub you the wrong way for some reason. I’m trying my hardest not to, but I seem to manage to annoy you just by being alive. Why don’t we start again? You’re not that into me. No problem. My ego can take it.”

  Nelson bounded over to her and she bent down to kiss him, while Alec thought that if he was any more into her he’d have her naked underneath him on the nearest flat surface.

  “You don’t annoy me.” It was the best he could do in the circumstances. Like giving a little more rein to a bolting horse in the hope it might somehow slow it down.

  “Good to know. Who’s a gorgeous boy? I don’t drive you crazy, do I?” She crooned, stroked and fussed and Nelson threw himself on the floor and rolled over in total ecstasy.