On the drive to Sacramento, Nick had shared his shopping strategy with her. Like most men, he knew what he wanted to purchase and had devised a plan to get in and out as quickly as possible. Fine by her. Although she loved to shop, fighting the holiday crowds wasn’t something she did. January sales were her thing.
Once inside the store, she made a beeline for the underwear section and selected several of her favorite style. Contrary to what Nick might imagine, she didn’t wear granny panties or thongs. She preferred the traditional bikini style, in cotton. Thank you very much. But, with her serviceable underwear in her small shopping basket, she veered toward the sexier items and started to browse.
It didn’t hurt to look, right?
* * *
Just after noon, she and Nick were seated at Johnny Rocket’s waiting for their lunch order. Carrie pulled the white paper wrapper off of her straw and then stuck the straw in her glass as Nick checked his cell phone. This morning he’d forgone his shave. The stubble on his lean jaw was sexy—hell, who was she kidding? Everything about him was sexy. As she continued to appreciate his infinite hotness, Nick muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Trey Gentry.” Nick looked up, his expression one of annoyance. “I feel like a damn babysitter.”
“What’s he done?”
“Last week, I specifically instructed him to go to LA alone. I just found out that he ignored my advice and took his flavor of the month with him. He made it to the first day’s shoot on time, but he was late on the second day, and then that night he partied it up at the Playboy mansion with Miss November and missed the third day altogether. They had to reschedule it for a fourth day and the sponsor is pissed.” Nick all but slammed his phone on the table, a scowl darkening his face. “When I first met with Trey and he hired me, he was down-to-earth and humble, and now, in the space of a year and a half, he’s so full of himself he can’t see that he’s damaging his image. I’ve never seen fame go to someone’s head so quickly.”
Carrie picked up her glass and stirred the raspberry lemonade with her straw. “What are you going to do about it?”
Nick ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in the red leather booth, clearly exasperated. “He’s on his way to Philly to spend Christmas with his family, but after the holidays I’m going to have a serious talk with him. If he keeps on like this, he’ll lose the endorsement—and it’s a lucrative one.”
“Do you think he’ll listen to you?”
“Honestly, I have no clue. He’s riding high on fame and adulation and seems to think he’s indestructible. He doesn’t realize that the very people kissing his ass right now could, and would, turn on him in an instant.”
“Are all of your clients like Trey?” she asked, then took a sip of the lemonade. Her lips puckered at the tartness.
“No. Trey’s my problem child.”
“Sounds like some tough love is in order.”
“I’m not looking forward to it, but it’s part of my job.” Nick blew out a breath. “Let’s talk about something else. If I keep ranting about Trey, you might decide you’ve had enough of my company and skip the party tonight.”
Carrie couldn’t imagine having too much of Nick’s company, but despite the fact that she’d enjoyed their shopping expedition thus far, she had serious qualms about tonight. She hadn’t been to a holiday party in years. What if her inner Scrooge returned and ruined everything?
“I’ll pick you up around seven. Will that work?”
“Sure.” Carrie tamped down her doubts and set her glass on the table. “Nick, I have to ask. Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to...to change my mind about Christmas.”
Nick regarded her with a thoughtful gaze. “I guess it’s because I’ve always loved this time of year. I remember being so excited just before Christmas break. I couldn’t wait until Christmas Day. It never dawned on me that you didn’t feel the same way.”
“I was pretty good at hiding it,” she admitted. “I didn’t want anyone to know how messed up my family was.”
“My biggest worry back then was how to get Alicia to notice me,” he said with a disgusted shake of his head. “I was totally oblivious to what you were going through. I remember hearing your parents argue a few times, but I never suspected it was as bad as it was.”
Bad was an understatement, but she didn’t want the conversation to turn maudlin so she tried to smile. She failed, but did manage a halfhearted twitch of her lips. “Well, I try to look on the bright side. I didn’t become an alcoholic like my parents. If my only character flaw is that I hate Christmas I figure I’m ahead of the game.”
“I wouldn’t call it a character flaw.” Nick regarded her solemnly for several seconds then amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. “But maybe, this year—with my help—you won’t hate it so much.”
“Maybe.” She attempted another smile and this time, because of Nick and his positive outlook, she succeeded. Raising her hand, she pointed at him. “But I draw the line at singing Christmas carols or drinking eggnog.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I hate eggnog, and I’ve heard you sing.”
Carrie gasped, affronted. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent singer. Just ask anyone at Gary’s Place.”
A cute wrinkle creased between Nick’s brows as he frowned. “Gary’s Place?”
“It’s a bar on Mill Street. It opened after you left Grass Valley. They have karaoke on Saturday nights.” Carrie lifted her chin. “I always get a standing ovation.”
“Is that ovation around closing time?” Nick’s grin was as mischievous as the sparkle in his eyes. “Because everyone looks and sounds good at two in the morning.”
“Very funny,” Carrie retorted, trying not to laugh. “Keep it up and I’ll sing all the way back to Grass Valley.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “I can hardly wait.”
* * *
At six-thirty, Nick walked into the kitchen searching for the keys to his Explorer and found his mother standing at the stove. Judging by the aromatic scent of apples and cinnamon, she was making a batch of her hot cider.
“Have you seen my keys?” he asked, checking the counter and not seeing them. “I can’t find them in my room.”
“They’re hanging by the back door.” His mother took the wooden spoon from the pot of cider and set it on a trivet next to the stove. “I have upsetting news,” she said, turning to face him.
By her stricken expression, Nick assumed someone was ill. “What’s going on?”
“It’s your uncle.”
Concerned, he moved to the counter. “Is Uncle Vic all right? Did he and Aunt Carol have an accident on the way here?”
“No.” His mother shook her head. “He’s gone insane. Totally insane.”
Nick cocked his head and grinned. “Literally? I didn’t realize crazy ran in our family.”
Paula grimaced. “I’m serious, Nick. I found out tonight that Vic and Carol have been separated for months.”
“What?” he exclaimed. Nothing could have surprised him more. “Did Dad know about this?”
“Not until tonight when Vic called and told him he’s bringing his new girlfriend to the party.”
“Uncle Vic’s got a girlfriend? Who is she?”
“I have no clue. Vic told your father he met her at his country club in Auburn.” Paula picked up a dish towel and wiped her hands with quick jerky movements. “I can’t believe he sprung this on us right before the party. And what am I going to say to Carol? She’s part of this family, damn it.”
Nick had never seen his mother so angry. What the hell was wrong with his uncle? Could it be a midlife crisis? Vic and Carol had been married for almost twenty years and always seemed happy.
“Is the party still on?” Nick glanced at his watch.
“Yes. Your father told Vic that it might not be such a smart idea to bring this...this.
..woman to the party, but I don’t know if it sunk into that thick skull of his. I can’t cancel the party on such short notice. If Vic shows up with this bimbo then we’ll just have to be polite.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call anyone a bimbo before,” Nick said as he walked to the back door and lifted his keys from the peg on the wall. “This evening could be interesting.”
“I don’t know why Carol didn’t call me. The last time I talked to her—about a month ago—she sounded fine.”
“Maybe she’s okay with the separation.” Nick zipped his leather jacket. “You don’t know the whole story, Mom. She could have been the one to initiate it.”
“That’s true.” Paula bit her lower lip and tossed the dishtowel on the counter. “I shouldn’t go off half-cocked before I know all the details.”
“Wise decision.” Nick grinned and opened the door. “I’m going to pick up Carrie. I’ll be back soon.”
* * *
After a fifteen-minute drive, Nick stood at Carrie’s front door and pressed the doorbell. As he waited he rubbed his hands together to warm them. He’d forgotten his gloves and it was another frigid night.
When Carrie opened the door, Nick’s body temperature shot up about twenty degrees and the cold was nothing but a faint memory. Why? Because of Carrie, who stood before him, breathtaking in a black lace dress with what appeared to be an ivory lining underneath the lace. But whatever. Who cared what it was made of? All he knew was that it hugged her curves and exposed the creamy skin of her neck, shoulders and toned arms.
“Just let me get my coat,” she said with a smile. Her lips were painted a dewy pink; Nick couldn’t take his eyes off them. Then, when she turned and moved gracefully toward the coat closet, he admired the sway of her hips and his body practically convulsed with sexual energy at the sight of her shapely legs covered with sheer black nylons. And the heels? Holy hell. They didn’t call them fuck-me pumps for nothing. They were crazy sexy hot, and so was Carrie. Nick had a strong urge to kick himself. How had he spent hours in her bedroom studying and never once noticed how damn gorgeous she was? What an idiot he’d been.
Remembering his manners, Nick stepped inside the house as she pulled a black wool coat from the closet. “Let me help you,” he said, moving to stand beside her.
“Thank you,” she said and handed him the coat. As he helped her slip into it, he couldn’t resist the impulse to lean closer and inhale the soft feminine scent of her skin and hair. His dick hardened; it was all he could do not to move her hair aside and press his lips to the nape of her neck.
Get a grip, man. Now.
“It’s cold out there,” Carrie said as she turned to face him. Nick shifted to ease the sudden ache in his groin. Good thing he was wearing his jacket, otherwise Carrie would be able to see the effect she had on him.
“I left the truck running. It’ll be warm for the drive to my folks’ house.” Nick took a step back. If he didn’t, he was liable to pull her into his arms and kiss her. He still hoped to do that, but later tonight. “I need to warn you about something before we get to the party,” he said as they headed for the door and stepped on to the porch.
Carrie’s delicate brows lifted. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s probably nothing, but if my uncle shows up I don’t want you to be surprised.”
“Oh, is he the black sheep of the family?” she asked, pulling her keys from her purse.
Nick snorted. “Not until tonight,” he said as Carrie inserted the key into the lock and the deadbolt clicked into place. “I’ll fill you in on the way over.”
* * *
Two hours later, Nick stood next to Carrie in the dining room where his mother had set up an array of appetizers and finger foods. So far the evening had been quiet—his uncle appeared to be a no-show.
Scattered in both the living and dining rooms were assorted friends of his parents. He’d known most of them for years and although they were a sedate bunch, they were friendly and welcoming toward Carrie. That had put her at ease and throughout the evening her naturally warm personality surfaced and the nerves he’d noticed when they first arrived had disappeared.
“Try those mini-quiche things,” Nick said as he reached for a festively decorated paper plate and handed it to her. “My mom makes them from scratch. They’re killer.”
“Everything looks delicious,” Carrie said, scanning the table. “I sampled one of the stuffed mushroom caps earlier—it was to die for.”
Nick picked up another plate and smiled at one of his mother’s Bunco buddies standing on the other side of the dining room table. Beth Ann Williams was a walking advertisement for the season. She’d chosen red leggings and added a matching red sweater that boasted the image of a Christmas tree on the front. Her earrings were small candy canes that almost brushed her shoulders—not a difficult feat since she basically had no neck. A red-and-white Santa cap topped her head, and instead of regular shoes, she had on something that resembled elf slippers. They were green, flat and had a piece near the toes the curled up in a half circle. Although she looked ridiculous, Nick had known her long enough to know this was mild compared to some of her other holiday getups. Beth Ann was one of those people who took every major holiday seriously.
After he and Carrie filled their plates, they moved to the living room and sat on the raised brick hearth near the fireplace. One of his mother’s favorite Christmas CDs played softly in the background and for a while they were content to eat in companionable silence.
“Beth Ann is really into Christmas,” Carrie said after setting her empty plate on the hearth beside her. She wiped her hands on her napkin as Beth Ann made a pass through the living room on her way to the kitchen.
“She’s a character, that’s for sure.” Nick stuffed one of the tiny quiches into his mouth and chewed.
“Does she dress up for other holidays?”
Nick nodded as he swallowed and stashed his plate behind him. “She dressed up as Uncle Sam on the Fourth of July. I didn’t see it with my own eyes, but my mom swears it’s the truth. She may even have pictures.”
“This is like any other party.” Carrie gazed around the room. “Except for the tree, the music and Beth Ann’s outfit.”
Nick chuckled. “So it’s not that bad?”
Carrie turned and met his gaze. “No. It’s not bad at all.” Her green eyes lowered to his mouth and for one crazy moment Nick thought she was going kiss him. His heart began to thud as she leaned toward him, and as her delectable pink lips were about to touch his, the doorbell rang and she pulled back.
Damn it to hell. Whoever the late arrival was had just edged Trey from the top spot on Nick’s shit list.
“Nick. Could you get that?” his mother called from the kitchen. “My hands are full.”
“I’ll be right back,” Nick said to Carrie as he got to his feet. The doorbell rang again just as he made it to the front door and opened it.
“Nicky!” A wide smile split his uncle’s face and before he knew it, Nick was enveloped in a bear hug that almost crushed his lungs. “It’s good to see you.”
Nick tried to speak but nothing came out. He could barely breathe.
“Vic. Baby.” A feminine voice came from behind his uncle. “I think you’re killing your nephew.”
As his uncle released his iron grip, Nick sucked in some cold air, looked over Vic’s shoulder and got the surprise of his life. Standing on the bottom step, wrapped in what appeared to be a very expensive fur coat, was the girl he’d lost his mind over in high school.
Alicia Walsh.
Chapter Seven
After Nick left her to greet the new arrivals, Carrie gathered their paper plates and rose from the hearth. On her way to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but admire the majestic Douglas fir in the corner of the living room. Despite her initial trepidation, helping Nick and his parents trim the tree with lights, a colorful variety of ornaments and shiny silver tinsel had been a lot of fun. And when they were fi
nished, Nick’s mother had insisted Carrie have the honor of placing another of her most cherished decorations—a vintage angel—at the top of the tree.
Gazing at the angel now, a powerful rush of emotions made her throat ache with longing. Longing for what she’d been denied her entire life. And surprisingly, it wasn’t just about Christmas. It was more than that. Last Saturday—with Nick and his parents—she’d gotten an up close and personal glimpse of what it was like to be part of a close-knit, loving family.
As Elvis began to croon “Blue Christmas,” Carrie headed for the kitchen. Once there, she found Nick’s mother slicing a pumpkin pie into eighths. In addition to the traditional dessert, there was also a Dutch apple pie and a plate of colorfully decorated Christmas cookies on the counter. Good thing she had saved room for dessert—if Paula Johnson baked as well as she cooked, then the treats would be delicious.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Paula asked, a smile wreathing her face as she looked up.
“Very much so.” Carrie disposed of the plates in the plastic trash can by the back door. A week ago she never would have dreamed she’d be attending a Christmas party, let alone declaring aloud she was having a wonderful time. “Do you need some help?” she offered. “I can take the desserts into the dining room if you’d like.”
“That would be a big help.” Paula finished slicing the pie, set the knife on the counter and reached up to tuck an errant lock of dark hair behind her ear. “While you do that, I’ll put on some coffee. Do you—”
Nick burst into the kitchen, stopped and exhaled a deep breath. “Houston, we’ve got a problem. Uncle Vic and his girlfriend just arrived.”
“Holy shit,” Paula said and cast an apologetic glance at Carrie. “Pardon my French.”
Carrie nodded with sympathetic understanding. On the drive over, Nick had filled her in on the Uncle Vic situation. Having him show up with the girlfriend was bound to cause some tension.
For My Own: A Contemporary Christmas Anthology Page 6