Mistletoe Kisses & Christmas Wishes: A Christmas Romance Boxed Set Book Bundle Collection

by Leah Atwood

  It was the dejection and the desire in her voice that pushed aside his earlier resolve to keep his hands to himself. Kylen stepped toward her, intending to wrap her in a comforting embrace, but at the first touch of his fingers on her shoulders, she shoved back in her office chair, launching out of reach. Stark panic covered her face as though she had just come perilously close to falling off the edge of a cliff.

  “Don’t you touch me, Kylen Sumner!” She held out a trembling finger in his direction. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  “Layne—”

  “And stop calling me Layne! You’re the only one who ever used my middle name, and I don’t want…you don’t have the right…” She pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head. “Just don’t call me Layne.”

  His shoulders sagged. What was the use? How many times had he regretted his actions? How many times had he thought about calling her? Dreamed about her? Wished she could forgive him? He rubbed his cheek, his day-old stubble rasping under his fingers. “I told you on the beach that day—” His words cut off as he stared into her eyes, willing her to believe him. His gaze never wavered and he held his breath, waiting for her response.

  For an intangible moment he thought her face softened, but with the speed of a shuttering camera lens, her expression hardened into an unreadable mask.

  Kylen shut his eyes and pressed fingers and thumb to his brow, rubbing at the throb that pulsed there. This was not good. He looked up.

  Taysia stood and moved to the window. The only sound that could be heard was the soft song of a bird in the tree outside. She turned toward him and studied him boldly with large, serious eyes.

  “Kylen, there is one thing good that came from our relationship. After that day on the beach, I really thought about what you said. You seemed”—she hunched her shoulders—”different. So I looked into it, and found it made sense. Jesus was what I had been searching for my whole life. I had made some really big mistakes, you know?” She blushed, clearing her throat. “And at that point in my life I was wondering, ‘What’s the purpose of going on?’ Because of what you said that day on the beach, I gave my life to Christ and my mother gave her life to the Lord, as well, before she died.” She smiled a sad smile, tears glimmering in her eyes at the mention of her mother. “I’m still praying for Dad, but one of these days…”

  Kylen spoke huskily. “That’s great, Lay—Taysia. I just wish things had been different before then, especially between us.”

  She shut her eyes, pressed her lips together, and spun back to the window. After a moment, she gave one nod. For a moment silence stretched, then she glanced over her shoulder and looked him in the eye. “I forgive you, Kylen.”

  He blinked slowly, forcing himself to breathe normally even as his heart soared.

  Her gaze fixed once more on the scene outside the window as she continued. “I’ve known for a long time that I needed to find you and tell you, but I always put it off. You weren’t entirely to blame. I was in the wrong, too. I could have made more of an effort to be your friend, and that night—”

  “Taysia, don’t.”

  She nodded. “Some things are better left in the past. How does that verse go? We forget what is behind and press on toward our goal, right?”

  “And thank God for His grace and mercy.”

  “Yes,” she whispered in a choked voice, blinking back tears.

  The room was silent for several moments as he waited for her to compose herself. He moved so he could at least see the side of her face.

  Forcing a professional tone, Kylen said, “So back to this lawsuit business. Do you have time to talk this over with me tonight?” A blush heated her cheek, and he eyed her speculatively.

  She didn’t answer right away, but when he continued to wait silently, she said, “No…I’m going to Blaine Pittman’s for dinner.”

  Kylen’s jaw hardened. “Blaine Pittman? Isn’t he a little young for you?”

  She snorted. “He was only a year behind us, Kylen.” Shrugging, she lifted her chin. “Anyhow, I don’t see how Blaine is any concern of yours.”

  His fists clenched as he shoved them into his pockets. His voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I came home for a reason, Layne.”

  She turned and met his gaze then, a question on her face.

  “I came home because I’m in love with you.”

  A small strangled sound escaped her throat as she collapsed back against the windowsill.

  Buy Beyond the Waves here.

  About Author

  Lynnette Bonner

  Born and raised in Malawi, Africa. Lynnette Bonner spent the first years of her life reveling in warm equatorial sunshine and the late evening duets of cicadas and hyenas. The year she turned eight she was off to Rift Valley Academy, a boarding school in Kenya where she spent many joy-filled years, and graduated in 1990.

  That fall, she traded to a new duet—one of traffic and rain—when she moved to Kirkland, Washington to attend Northwest University. It was there that she met her husband and a few years later they moved to the small town of Pierce, Idaho.

  During the time they lived in Idaho, while studying the history of their little town, Lynnette was inspired to begin the Shepherd’s Heart Series with Rocky Mountain Oasis.

  Marty and Lynnette have four children, and currently live in Washington where Marty pastors a church.

  You can find out more about Lynnette on her website at: www.lynnettebonner.com. Also, book 1 in the Hearts of Hollywood series (Havyn & Levi's story) is FREE when you sign up for my newsletter. (I only sent out emails when I have a new story to share.)

  Cephalopod Cupid

  The Seattle Sunshine series, Novella 1

  Kathleen Freeman

  Chapter One

  December’s emptiness echoed in Lacey’s heart and rang across the Seattle Aquarium, from saltwater touch pools to ocean-filled glass walls.

  She stopped in front of the curved octopus tank. Gabriel wasn’t moping in his usual hideaway, crammed between glass and rocks and looking more like a wad of gum than a giant Pacific octopus. Had he found some distraction to fill his lonely hours?

  “Check it out, Lacey, Gabriel has a friend.” Samantha called. She lifted her chin toward the tank’s tube—the watery bridge between “Fantasy Island” and his usual side, a bland area Lacey had dubbed “The Jar.”

  A pair of child-sized moccasin slippers pointed in the air, moving in and out, as though swimming with the octopus in the tube above.

  Lacey peeked around the corner. A boy of about six lay on the floor, watching Gabriel spread out his tentacles.

  “Good. Maybe it’ll make Gabriel stop brooding. Tell you what, my friend.” Lacey patted Sam on the sleeve of her aquarium polo. “You go look for a frantic mom, and I’ll see what young Jacques Cousteau is learning.”

  Lacey slipped under the tube and lay back on the rough utility carpet squares next to the boy. Dirt and rubber smells tickled her nose, touched her memory—the carpet in her Kindergarten class from so many years ago. Mrs. Marsh. What an odd thing to remember. The carpet smell only magnified the lonely feeling of the aquarium.

  If the boy noticed her, he didn’t say anything. He stared up as Gabriel wrapped a tentacle around a broken piece of coral and hardened his suckers to taste it, rubbing the bone-like bit as though it were a security blanket.

  She cleared her throat. “Gabriel must like you. This is the first time I’ve seen him in the tube in weeks. He’s been staying in the Jar. That’s what I call his small tank. Ace, another octopus we had, acted the same when he was ready to mate—the hiding, and a frantic search which took him over the edge of the tank. For Valentine’s Day, we played Cupid and brought in a female. I’m beginning to think the behavior is kind of a spawning reflex.”

  “Spawning. Like salmon?”

  “Exactly.”

  He turned his head toward the big tank. “Where is Ace?”

  “He and Yoyo were released back into the wild to lay eggs.”
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  “And take care of their children?”

  How could she tell a small child what really happened to octopus after mating? “Actually, octopus don’t do much of that.”

  “Do they die, like salmon?”

  So much for the gentle approach. “They do—the male a few months after mating and the female after about seven months of guarding the eggs. Kind of a strange phenomenon since they are way more intelligent than salmon. They say an octopus is about as smart as a—”

  “Cat.”

  “Exactly. You’ve studied the giant Pacific octopus—E. dofleini, I’m always impressed when I run across a scholar.” She winked, but he wasn’t looking and didn’t respond. “So, what’s Gabriel telling you?”

  “Octopuses don’t talk.”

  “They do.”

  The boy glanced at her, then back at Gabriel. “One of those,” his expression said.

  “You’re right. I’m sad to say I haven’t had any deep philosophical conversations with Gabriel, but octopus do communicate. They change color and texture with their mood and to match their environment.”

  “Camouflage. I learned about that. I’m going to be a marine biologist.”

  Lacey watched Gabriel stiffen the skirt connecting each leg and stretch a tentacle to grip the side of the tube with his suckers. “Best job in the world.”

  “You’re a marine biologist?”

  “I am.”

  He reached his hand out and took hers.

  She gave it a squeeze. Her first impression that he was shy appeared to be wrong. “What’s your name?”

  “Stephen, like the one stoned in the Bible.”

  “What?”

  “In the Bible. Stephen was stoned to death.”

  If ever there was a conversation ender that was it. Lacey breathed deep. “Guess he was at that. Stephen was a brave man. Are you?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither.”

  He turned to glance at her chest. “You’re not a man. You have breasts.”

  She laughed. Clearly.

  Gabriel stretched a tentacle toward them and made his skin bump in a fiery red that, combined with his horns, made him look more like a devil than the angel of his namesake. Was he ready to mate? Mating had consequences, dire consequences for some creatures. She reached her hand toward the tentacle. How could she let him go? She sighed. “It’s hard to be alone.” Why she’d said that aloud was beyond her.

  “I like being alone.”

  So he claimed. But he continued to hold her hand, a sign that perhaps he liked being “not alone,” as well.

  “You learn a lot that way. Of course, there is something special about being with people, too.”

  Brown eyes probed hers. How different they were from the dark horizontal eye slits of an octopus. Like soft tentacles, suction cups tasting her soul, Stephen’s visual probe was gentle. He didn’t share what he saw, but the hand remained in hers, small, trusting. “Maybe he’ll get a mate for Christmas.”

  The side of her head, her ear against the carpet, felt the vibration of heavy footsteps. Frantic mom had arrived.

  Samantha’s voice floated down. “I’m going to bet that’s little Stevie, right under there.”

  The boy’s voice came next to Lacey, small, sad, “Stephen.”

  Lacey sat up. “He likes to be called Stephen.” Too fast. Head rush. Her head buzzed and she wobbled for a moment as she registered that “frantic mom” was actually a frantic dad. And good-looking. He was a dark-haired version of Stephen. Weekend father?

  Stop it, Lacey.

  The man chuckled. “Or sometimes Stephen Geoffrey Davis.”

  “Only at swimming lessons.” Stephen sat without a wobble.

  “You make your swimming instructor say your full name?” Lacey widened her eyes for dramatic effect, but with a smile to let Stephen know she wasn’t serious. “Dangerous idea, buddy. What happens if you slip under the water? She’d have to yell, ‘Stephen Geoffrey Davis is drowning! Stephen Geoffrey Davis is drowning!’ And if someone said, ‘What?’ She’d have to repeat it all over again, and by that time, you’d be fish food.” She touched the nose above Stephen’s smiling mouth, adult bottom teeth coming in crooked enough to be darned cute. “Whereas, if she said, ‘Steve’s drowning,’ they’d understand right away and pull you out.” She put her hands up in a, so-there-you-go manner.

  The smile stayed. “I won’t drown. I’m a good swimmer.”

  “Even good swimmers have to be careful, Stephen. Water is a funny thing.”

  Stephen’s father squatted, hand out toward Stephen. His legs thickened, filling out his jeans. “It is at that. It’s also dangerous to wander off. Remember, Stephen? If you can’t see me. I can’t see you.”

  Stephen got up without taking his father’s hand and, instead, patted his father’s cheek. “And then I would get lost.”

  “And you would get lost. I’m glad someone nice found you.” He turned to Lacey. “Would it be okay for me to take you to lunch, as a thank you for being so kind to my son?”

  “Oh, that’s okay. It was my pleasure. We had a good conversation about…” Did she really want to tell this man she’d been talking about octopus love lives? “About the octopus escape we had some time ago.”

  “Escape?”

  Samantha, her blonde pony-tail bobbing forward, reached down and pulled Lacey to her feet. “Yup. They get that way when they want to mate—slip out of their tanks and move across the floor. Sometimes they go into the other tanks and have a bit of a fish feed.”

  Lacey’s stomach rumbled.

  Sam smirked, tapped the shoulder of Lacey’s aquarium polo shirt. “Lunch does sound good. Doesn’t it, Lacey?”

  Stephen’s father nodded. “Both you ladies are welcome to come.”

  Sam flashed teeth, her scheming smile. “Thanks for asking, but I can’t. Got plans. Lacey would love to, though. She was going to stand at the railing behind the aquarium and eat her lunch looking out over the water. Alone.” With a two finger wave and a you-owe-me look, Sam practically danced toward the main office.

  Way to make me sound pathetic, girl.

  “Sounds great, but I could use some sitting time. Do you know of any restaurants Stephen might like? I don’t really know the area.”

  Lunch with a stranger. A cute, brown-eyed stranger. Wasn’t there a rule against eating in front of a guy before you knew him? A mocha mustache might be kind of cute. Arugula between the teeth—not so much. “I don’t know if I’m ready for lunch yet.” Her cheeks burned. “I mean, it’s a bit early. I’d love coffee, though. Our coffee shop upstairs makes super cute mochas with an octopus swirled into the foam.”

  He smiled and brown eyes shone like sunlight on Puget Sound. He was attractive for sure. “Lead on, then. Do they serve plain coffee in Seattle, or is it all double tall skinny mochas with foam and whip?”

  Her lips parted in a smile. “Don’t mock the mocha. Coffee is good. Chocolate is better. Mix the two, and, voilà! But I would bet they carry the unmixed variety as well. They also serve fun aquarium-themed foods. Chicken nuggets in fish shapes, crab and artichoke dip, octo-pie, PB&J’s cut to look like jelly fish. Stephen will like it.”

  “Perfect.”

  Fir and cedar branches wrapped poles near the elevator and hung above the stairs. Lacey sniffed in the Northwest fragrance—evergreens, the smell of life. Glass ball ornaments in shades of blue and a strand of white LEDs made it look as though they’d entered a magical under-the-sea kingdom where mermaids seemed a very real possibility, even to a girl who’d studied the ocean most of her life.

  “Very Christmassy. Pretty.”

  Pretty, yes, Christmassy, not really. But Lacey wasn’t going to argue with Stephen’s father. Wow. She’d agreed to go out with a man without even knowing his name. Foolish. Desperate. The back of her neck grew warm. Davis. That was his last name.

  “No, Dad. It looks like the sea, like we are under the waves with bubbles. Christmas has red and green.”
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  She liked this kid. So much.

  They climbed the stairs and followed signs to the café.

  “Do you eat here often?” Stephen’s father looked around, judgment on his face and not the positive kind.

  “No. I like the view from the back of the aquarium better.” Way to remind him of Sam’s lonely prediction. “Or sometimes I’ll bring my mochas back to my desk.” Could she sound any more pathetic?

  “I hear there are charming restaurants by the water. We could eat at one of those. I don’t mind paying more for atmosphere.”

  “This is good.”

  “‘Good,’ as in the food is surprisingly delicious, or ‘good,’ as in close to your work in case I turn out to be a whack job?”

  She walked over to the window and looked out, choosing not to answer.

  “Okay. At least it has a nice view. The Great Wheel looks Christmassy. Even has your red and green, Stephen.”

  “It’s like a big mint.” Stephen leaned close to the window, his breath making it steam. He huffed again, watching the condensation as it climbed the window.

  Stephen’s dad smiled—a motion that pushed his cheek up in the most delightful way. His lips, his jawline and nose, gave him a bit of a Daniel Radcliffe aspect, a look his dark hair didn’t disillusion. “It does at that. I think it’s the red swirl in the center.”

  Outside, the day was gray and dim, typical for late December in the Northwest, even at 11 am. “Little known fact—in the winter, Seattleites crave light like starving plants.”

  He studied her face, eyebrows lifting. “Oh?”

  “True story. We use Christmas lights the same way poinsettias use greenhouse grow-lights. The red in my hair is actually due to chlorophyll degradation. But, never fear, a substitute energy source grows in the mountains of South America. So, now you know the sad truth behind our mocha madness.”

  He laughed, and her ears warmed. Wow. She was showing her odd duck in full feathers today.

  “Then we’d better order fast.” He stepped over to the counter and studied the cafeteria-style board. “So, do you suppose Octo-pie has octopi in it, Stephen?” He gave Stephen a playful bump with his hip.