Regardless, he continued to hold her until she relaxed, until her tense figure melted into him. He thought she was asleep when she sighed and brought her hand up to caress his arm.
“Ayden?”
He braced himself for the onslaught of questions about his life and the moment where she’d expect something more than a physical agreement between them.
“Yes, Grace?”
“Thanks.”
A few quiet inhales later, he realized this was all she’d meant to say. Still, he lay next to her, waiting for her to push closer into him, to give him the female sign that she was ready, physically. After a while, however, he realized she was asleep.
Disappointed, he adjusted her lithe form, turning to kiss her bruised temple and brush back a strand of her mahogany-colored hair. God help him, he liked her, attracted to her quiet strength and subtle beauty, so much so he looked forward to taking advantage of every intimate moment together.
For now, and with the day almost gone, he slipped out of bed and sauntered into the kitchen, still smelling her sweet scent on him. He smiled, stepping to the refrigerator to pull out some chicken to prepare his mother’s famous Irish chicken and dumplings stew.
He enjoyed cooking, and he liked the idea of sharing some of his mother’s recipes with Grace. Though, for her sake, he added a little bit more garlic and broth. With the meal almost ready, he sat and checked his phone, finding a text message buried between unsubtle offers to the Christmas Eve Eve Dance.
It’s a boy, seven pounds, nine ounces, red hair, ten toes.
Ayden glanced at the scrunched babe held up by his excited father. Funny how Neil appeared to have aged ten years since the last time Ayden saw him. Unwilling to stare too long into the portrait of fatherhood, Ayden sent his friend a quick congratulatory reply and then deleted the random messages from girlfriends past. The very last message came from his sister. Dinner postponed. Kids sick. Will try for later this week.
Relieved not to have to explain what happened to Grace, Ayden responded right away with OK. The next hour he spent making phone calls and putting his second-in-command in charge of running his company while he stayed with Grace. He also placed her phone next to his in case someone decided to call her. Of all the people he thought might try, he dreaded Danielle’s call the most. Then, Grace’s phone rang with a normal tone, and he glanced down to find the name Mom over the picture of an older woman with similar features to Grace.
He weighed his options of accepting the call before he grabbed the device and swiped across the screen.
“Hello?”
“Grace?”
Ayden cleared his throat. “No, ma’am. I’m a…friend of hers in Mistletoe. My name is Ayden McCabe, and I’m helping your daughter find Danielle.”
“Oh, thank God,” the woman said, half laughing, half crying. “She did mention you when I talked to her earlier. Is she available to talk?”
“Uh, she’s actually…sleeping right now.” Ayden closed his eyes for a brief moment, wishing he’d thought of something a little more covert to say. He’d learned mothers could be even more matrimonial-minded than their daughters.
“But she’s okay? I’ve been so worried about her. I don’t think she’s been on her own for this long before.”
Ayden nodded. “She’s in good hands. I promise.”
“Thank you. Please tell her to call me when she wakes up.”
“I will.”
He ended the call and had no sooner placed the device on the counter before the phone blared a familiar tune. “Foolish.”
Ayden didn’t even hesitate to answer this one. “Hello.”
“Grace?”
“No. She’s sleeping, but if you’d like to leave a message—”
The phone went dead, and Ayden smirked, not feeling the least bit guilty. Oh, he had no doubt Rick would tell Grace, and then Ayden would have to explain why he did what he did. Until then, he’d convince himself it was because he and Grace had an agreement. She was his girlfriend and no one else’s.
Unwilling to reminisce and think too much more on the matter, he occupied his mind and time answering emails regarding the business and crunching numbers for the upcoming town bid. He also doubled back with Fitz, but the man had more questions than answers and nothing new to report since the last time they talked. Ayden tried not to smile at the little information he received.
At around seven in the evening, he made himself some coffee and lounged against the island, his mind reliving the panic he felt after the Christmas tree had swallowed Grace whole. He also recalled, with thundering clarity, the blood rushing through his veins as they landed on the snow together. She lay underneath him, stone still, her ingenuous gaze shaking him to the depths of his closed soul.
Now he stood trying to shake the emotional rippling of what she stirred inside him. Even in her weakest moment, as she lay beside him, he’d grappled between gentleman and jerk. However, from experience, he knew if he showed one too much over the other, she’d get the wrong idea and start making plans about their future.
He swiped a frustrating hand down his face and over his stubbled jaw, seeking to remind himself to keep things as he intended: physical. Although, he had to admit, he was more cautious than usual regarding this aspect of their relationship, as well. Something about Grace made him hesitate, and it wasn’t about her not being his type. Yet the longer she slept, the more he remembered the sweet taste of her tongue and the exquisite scent of her skin. Unfortunately, he had plenty of time to reminisce over her attributes the rest of the night and most of the next day. During her hibernation, he slipped into her room every few hours to check her body temperature and pull the blankets back round her arms.
Now, despite the danger of thinking so, he missed her company and their conversations. As he reheated the chicken and dumplings, he heard her soft footsteps enter the kitchen behind him.
“What smells so wonderful?”
Ayden twisted to find Grace barefoot and wearing the enormous clothes he’d given her. With her dark hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail, he thought she was the most attractive woman he’d ever seen.
“You should have stayed in bed.”
“The sheets were too cold,” she said and then clicked her tongue.
He knew an excellent opportunity when he heard one. “I thought you liked cold sheets.”
She swiped a long bang from her eyelashes and smashed her lips together. With his attention diverted to her mouth, he believed he would be unable to keep her at arm’s distance for too much longer.
“A wise man,” she said, her words cautious, “or rather a cocky man, once said, a warm body is preferable to a pair of cold sheets any day. After the Christmas tree fiasco, I’ll have to agree with him.”
He exhaled, imagining himself on top of her again, this time, bringing her temperature up to unleash the fire he saw in her eyes whenever she gazed at him. However, he needed, he wanted her to come to him. No matter what he imagined, he’d found it was better to stir a woman’s passions as opposed to lighting them.
“And whose warm body did you have in mind, Miss Evans?” He raised his gaze without lifting his head.
“Wow.”
He chuckled. “What?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Is that how you get women to fall in bed with you: suggestive words and flirtatious overtures?”
He sent her a wide grin. “No. Fortunately, there isn’t much conversation at all.”
A peach blush lit up her face, and he thought the color suited her very well. Her lips agape, he reached up and tapped her chin with the end of his fingertips. When she’d taken a seat at the counter and recovered from what he’d said, he stepped back and waited for her response.
She struggled at first, but he knew never to underestimate her ability to keep up with him.
“In that case, Mr. McCabe, if there isn’t much dialog, I can’t imagine how you’d know you were doing everything right.”
&nbs
p; The gluttonous grin she presented him prompted him to walk around and stand behind her, all too eager to demonstrate exactly what he meant. He realized she’d had enough rest to bear some instruction on what he did know.
****
From the seductive and amused look on Ayden’s face, Grace knew when she’d roused a sleeping panther. Too late to take back what she’d asked, she sat there, owning her words and then contemplating having to eat them. Still, anxious to know what Ayden had in store for her, she kept her head forward. Her heart sputtered with excitement and restlessness as he stepped behind her and pulled the hair away from her neck. Then he braced his arms on each side of her, sheltering her in an encompassing embrace.
“You really don’t have to prove—”
“Shhh.” It was all he said. With skilled slowness, his hot breath fanned across her nape, the torturous but exhilarating contact sending goose bumps dancing all over her body. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, reveling in the feel of his soft lips skimming soundlessly against her bare skin. Where he touched her, she tingled. In control, he slid his mouth to the sensitive flesh below her ear. An ache of innate pleasure began to build at her waist, spreading deep and untamed.
When her arms dropped to her lap, he seized them and brought them up with his, placing his palms flat on top of hers on the granite countertop. He made her dizzy, drugged her senses, and caused a sensual twinge to grow stronger with each careful caress of his lips.
She began to lose herself to the moment when he swung her around to face him. Grace’s lids flew open, to find his blue eyes glinting like dark blue obsidian.
With their noses almost touching, he asked in a soft and husky tone, “Did I do everything right, Miss Evans?”
The answer stuck in her throat as he pushed back and stepped around to the other side of the island, leaving her forward. She waited until she thought of something to say before rotating around to face him. “Does it ever get…tiresome?”
“Does what get tiresome?” he said, lifting his coffee cup to his lips, and then pulling it away as if he should wait to take a drink until after she’d answered him.
“Your overconfidence regarding women? Do you think, maybe, the women you seduce are more than a football game, where at the end, win or lose, you move on.”
He stuck with the NFL analogy and counteracted with his own toss of the ball. “Believe it or not, Grace, the women I know would much rather be in the game, win or lose, than sitting on the sideline.”
Her lips clamped together, and she turned away. She realized when she’d been beat. She also realized she was no different from the other women in his life, wondering, waiting, for that devastating loss down the road.
To change the subject, she supposed, he rotated toward the stove. “I’ve made some chicken and dumplings. Would you like some?”
She stared at his back, her body still reeling from his arousing demonstration. She thought of saying no…until her stomach growled, loud and obnoxious. Before she could practice the lie of not wanting anything, he scooped the thick stew into a bowl and placed it in front of her.
The hearty smell reminded her of home, but not the home she remembered from her childhood. It was the home she always escaped to when the burdens of everyone’s life became too much. And with each bite, she felt closer to the imaginary place she’d built for herself. Finally, when she scraped the bottom of the dark brown bowl and set down the spoon, she glanced up to find Ayden staring at her.
“You should go back to bed,” he said, his features pulled into serious lines.
The last thing she wanted was to waste any more time lying down…without Ayden beside her. She blushed at her thoughts and quickly changed the subject. “I’ve had enough of sleep for one day. I’d really like a bath.”
He hesitated to reply, as if waiting for her to volunteer something else to the discussion. When she said nothing, he furrowed his brows and harrumphed. She gave up trying to guess what he was thinking and slid off the barstool to go back upstairs. She’d managed to step halfway into the hall when she remembered Maggie’s Christmas tree dinner. Had he decided to leave her alone and go to Maggie’s without her? Somehow, Grace felt abandoned. However, as little as she knew of Ayden McCabe, him abandoning anyone didn’t fit into his many creeds. Still, she had to know and ambled back into the kitchen, finding him staring out the glass door into the darkening horizon.
“I just realized I slept through Maggie’s dinner…I think.”
He turned and smiled. “No, Grace. The dinner’s been postponed. Maggie wants Neil and Sarah to be able to bring the baby over.”
“Oh, that’s right. Sarah had the baby.”
He nodded and pulled out his phone to show her the picture of Neil and his son. Grace stood and shifted against him, liking his warmth and virile energy. The picture could not have been more beautiful, and she folded her palm over Ayden’s knuckle to bring the phone closer.
“Ironic, huh? Thank God that baby took after his mom.”
Grace giggled and pressed closer to Ayden, a mistake she didn’t anticipate until he withdrew and stepped toward the stove.
“I’ll make you some more tea,” he said over his right shoulder.
Grace tried not to show her disappointment at Ayden’s cold departure from her side. Instead, she tiptoed upstairs and languished in the sweltering tub until she relaxed against the constant tide of emotional thoughts.
At least Ayden didn’t pretend to want a committed affiliation with a woman. With him, she knew what to expect: flirtations, maybe a few lessons, and, perhaps, an unemotional night of making love. He’d perfected the art of the corporal relationship and sought to teach her. Only, she didn’t know if she was teachable or if she was just tired of dysfunctional relationships without any depth.
“Grace?”
Thrown out of her reflection, she drew up and swept the curtain closed, unsure if she’d even thought to lock the door.
“When you’re ready, I put a cup of lemon-ginger tea on the stand beside my…our…your bed. You will have to sleep there until I can get the window fixed.”
She wondered if he’d not fixed the window on purpose. Maybe he’d expected for them to already be sharing his…their…her bed.
“Grace?”
“Yes, okay,” she answered before he decided to barge in and make sure she hadn’t passed out and then have to give her mouth-to-mouth again. She supposed the women in Mistletoe would have invited him into the tub by now.
But you’re not his type. That statement echoed in her brain loud and jarring. Petite, not tall; pretty, not gorgeous; needy, not self-reliant. Hell, whose type was she? Rick’s? She moaned, afraid to see too far into that answer.
With the water cooling, she sighed and stood, donning another pair of scanty California pajamas she’d packed for the trip. She thought Ayden would have ventured back downstairs. She should have known her assumption was as wrong this time as the last.
Still damp from her haphazard drying, she swung open the door and smacked right into Ayden’s hard form. His arms wrapped around her as a gasp tore from her throat.
She stared into his blue eyes, a challenging glint lighting their cerulean depths. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, slightly open and inviting. His delightful breath fanned across her face, caressing her skin and awakening a torrent of unrequited wants.
She lifted her hands, pressing them into the hardness of his chest. Where his heart knocked at a furious pace, hers fluttered and flipped a dozen times, as if she’d been tossed upside down in one of those traveling carnival rides. This was insane. A kiss should not be this complicated. They’d shared two for God’s sake. Albeit, under unusual circumstances.
Still, she hesitated as if she clung to the edge of a jagged cliff, the urge to jump nudging her chin upward. Just a whisper from touching her lips to his, in the heat of a semi-normal moment, an irritant tickle started to build inside her nose.
At the last moment, she turned her head away and sneezed, t
hree violent jerks of her already sore body. She groaned and fell against him, squeezing her eyes shut to what she’d almost accomplished. Now, she wanted to crawl back into bed and bury her head in his spicy-scented pillow.
“Grace?”
“Hmm?”
“You might have forgotten you’re not wearing much, but I haven’t.” His deep and hoarse voice resonated against her cheek.
Yes, she was more naked than clothed and smashed against him, her body straining for a closer connection. Through the thin layer of the fabric, she felt him harden and expand against her midsection. If kissing him was going over a cliff, then going any further was jumping out of a C-130 without a parachute.
She supposed she should have pushed away, feigning naive indifference, but no. She just stood there, unable to peel herself from him. To her rescue, his hands lifted, grasping her shoulders to separate them. She made the mistake of glancing into his face. His features showed no amusement, no amount of humility, and the muscle jumping along his jaw line gave her no indication he’d enjoyed the last few minutes at all.
She understood his need to stay in control one hundred percent of the time. Slow and awkward, she fell away, only to hear him curse under his breath and then seize her hand, pulling her hard against him.
Grace’s stomach somersaulted as Ayden’s hand curved around the back of her head, pulling her lips toward his. Their gazes locked for a moment. In one thunderous heartbeat, his mouth took hers in a wild, ravenous kiss.
With a soft moan of surrender, she lifted up on her tiptoes and wove her fingers through his soft light brown hair. Heat trembled through her body as his tongue parted her lips and began a provocative dance inside her mouth. Every rational thought before this moment dissolved under his silky prowess, his powerful and solid arms wrapping around her back and pulling her into his midsection.
In Mistletoe Page 10