The Yuletide Engagement & A Yuletide Seduction

by Carole Mortimer

  “Glasses, Gabe,” she told him through stiff lips.

  “Certainly, Jane.” He gave a mocking inclination of his head before strolling across the kitchen, opening the correct cupboard and taking out two glasses.

  Maybe having dinner at her apartment wasn’t such a good idea, after all! Gabe was too comfortable, too relaxed, altogether too familiar with her home. And not just with her home, either…!

  “What shall we drink to?”

  While she had been lost in thought, Gabe had poured the wine into the two glasses, holding one out to her now.

  “Good days?” he suggested huskily.

  That had to be better than “us”!

  This had not been a good idea. She could only hope the time would pass quickly.

  “Why don’t you go through to the sitting-room and pick out some music to play while I serve our first course?” she suggested abruptly, her usual calm having momentarily deserted her.

  But then, when didn’t it when she was around this man? It was past time to say goodbye to him!

  “So why did you have a good day?” she prompted conversationally as they sat down to their garlic prawns with fresh mayonnaise, an old John Denver CD of hers playing softly in the background.

  Gabe’s gaze met hers laughingly. “Well, this morning I went for a run for the first time in two weeks—”

  “Shame on you, Gabe!”

  “Mmm, this tastes wonderful, Jane.” He had just tasted his first prawn dipped in the mayonnaise. “I can hardly wait to see what we have for the main course!”

  With any luck, his enjoyment of the food would stop him talking too much.

  She could live in hope!

  The wine, as she had already guessed when she’d seen the label, was beautiful—rich and silky smooth. Only the best for Gabriel Vaughan.

  “Did you have a good day too?” Gabe looked up from his food to ask her, frowning at her derisive smile. “What…?” he prompted warily.

  She gave a mocking shake of her head. “We don’t have to play those sorts of games, Gabe,” she told him dryly. “We’re having dinner, not spending the rest of our lives together!” she explained scornfully at his puzzled expression.

  “It starts with conversation, Jane, eating dinner together, finding out about each other, likes and dislikes, things like that. People don’t leap straight into marriage—”

  “I don’t believe I mentioned the word marriage, Gabe.” She stood up abruptly, their first course at an end as far as she was concerned.

  “As I’ve already said,” Gabe murmured, turning in his chair to watch her departure into the kitchen, “he must have been some bastard.”

  She didn’t remember him saying any such thing! But, nevertheless, he was right; that was exactly what Paul had been.

  Their used plates landed with a clatter on the kitchen worktop, her hands shaking so badly she’d had trouble carrying them at all.

  What was wrong with her?

  She had made a conscious decision this afternoon to tell Gabe this was definitely the last time they would see each other. One look at him and she knew her resolve had weakened. One smile from him, and she began to tremble. If he should actually touch her—

  “Anything wrong—? Hell, Jane, I only touched your arm!” Gabe frowned down at her darkly as Jane had literally jumped away from the touch of his hand on her arm. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight?”

  She had asked herself the same question only seconds ago!

  And, looking at him, she was beginning to realise what the answer was…

  No!

  She couldn’t have those sorts of feelings towards Gabe, couldn’t actually want him to touch her, to make love to her?

  But she did; she knew she did! And she hadn’t felt this way since— But no—she hadn’t ever felt quite this way towards Paul. She’d never trembled at the thought of him touching her, had never ached for his lips on hers.

  But she’d loved Paul. She wasn’t in love with Gabe. If she was anything, she was in lust with him!

  Oh, God…!

  “What is it, Jane?” he prompted again, his frown having deepened to a scowl at her continued silence.

  She had to pull herself together, finish the meal—she doubted he would consider leaving before then!—and then she must make it absolutely plain to him that she did not want him appearing in her life whenever he felt like it; that there would be no more runs together in the park, no more turning up at her apartment, and no more impatient messages left on her answer machine.

  And, most important of all, there would be no further occasion for him to kiss her!

  “Sorry,” she dismissed lightly. “My thoughts were miles away when you came into the kitchen, and I’m a little tired too, I’m afraid.” She gave him a bright, meaningless smile as she voiced these excuses for her extraordinary behaviour, at the same time totally distancing herself from him as she crossed the kitchen to check on the food simmering on the hob. “If you would like to go back to the dining area, I’ll serve our main course and bring it through in a few minutes.”

  She deliberately didn’t look up at him again before she began to do exactly that, but all the time she busied herself with the food she was aware of him still standing across the other side of the kitchen, watching her with narrowed, puzzled eyes. And then, with a frustrated shake of his head, he turned and impatiently left the room.

  Jane leant weakly against the table in the middle of the kitchen. She had never wanted any man the way she wanted Gabe!

  And there was no way, simply no way, she could ever assuage this sudden hunger she felt for his kisses and his touch.

  She had always thought of him—when she’d allowed herself to think of him at all—as a man who took his pleasure where he found it, and then moved on. But the one thing she had learnt about him since his reappearance into her life was that if Gabe wanted something, then he didn’t relinquish his right to it easily. And she didn’t doubt for a moment that, physically at least, Gabe wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  And she also didn’t doubt that to give him what he wanted wouldn’t mean it would end there…

  Goodbye was the word she had to say to him. Not angrily; it had to be said in such a way that he would never want to come back.

  The ache inside her would go away, she assured herself as she served the noisettes of lamb with tarragon sauce and the still crunchy vegetables from the steamer, and then everything could go back to the way she liked it—untroubled, and uncomplicated.

  Why did that realisation suddenly hold no appeal for her?

  Ridiculous. That was what this whole situation was—ridiculous! Thank you. And goodbye. Four words. Very easy to say.

  But could she say them as if she meant them?

  Her heart skipped a beat when Gabe turned to smile at her as she came in with the food.

  Thank you. And goodbye, she repeated firmly to herself. She would say them. And mean them!

  “Cooking dinner for us this evening has been too much for you,” Gabe told her apologetically as she sat down opposite him. “I should have thought of that when you telephoned me earlier. You’ve already been at work today; the last thing you needed this evening was to cook another meal.” He shook his head self-disgustedly. “The least I could have done was offer to cook for you.” He sighed ruefully.

  Jane knew from watching him the other evening that he was more than capable of doing it, too. But spend the evening at his apartment…? She didn’t think so!

  “Don’t give it another thought, Gabe,” she dismissed—knowing that he’d been thinking about it ever since he’d left the kitchen a few minutes ago. And the reason he had come up with for her skittishness was obviously that she had been working too hard. “Cooking for two people, and in the comfort of my own home, isn’t work at all,” she assured him.

  “But the whole point of this evening was that I would take you out,” he protested.

  “You know, Gabe,” she said softly, “I’m one
of those chefs that’s inclined to turn nasty if my food isn’t eaten while it’s still hot!”

  He seemed on the point of protesting again for several seconds, and then he grinned, relaxing once again as he picked up his knife and fork in preparation for eating. “Never let it be said…!”

  Jane ate sparingly, her appetite having deserted her with the realisation that after a couple of hours’ time she would never see this man again.

  How had he crept into her emotions like this—even lustful ones? When had he?

  “—parents arrive in the country tomorrow, and I wondered if you could join us all for dinner tomorrow evening?”

  Jane blinked across at him, having been lost in her own thoughts, and slowly took in what he had just said to her. His parents were arriving in London tomorrow? And why not? It was Christmas, and, from what he had said, he was an only child, too. But as for the suggestion of her having dinner with them…!

  “I’ve told you, Gabe,” she replied lightly. “This is my busy time of year. I’m catering for a party of thirty people tomorrow evening,” she said thankfully.

  “You work too damned hard,” he bit out disapprovingly.

  “I like to eat myself occasionally.” She wryly pointed out the necessity for her to work. Maybe Gabe had forgotten what that was like; he was certainly in a financial position not to have to work any more, but she certainly wasn’t!

  He scowled heavily. “You shouldn’t have to—”

  “Now, now, Gabe,” she cut in tauntingly. “Don’t let your chauvinism show!”

  “This isn’t funny, Jane.” He frowned across at her. “When I think—”

  “I often think that the mere act of thinking only complicates things at times,” she dismissed calmly, putting down her knife and fork, the food only half eaten on her plate, although Gabe seemed to have enjoyed his, his plate now empty. “Would you like your cheese or dessert next? People seem to vary in their preference nowadays, I’ve noticed.”

  “Actually—” he sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table as he looked straight at her “—I’d like an answer to my original question.”

  She raised dark brows. “Which question was that, Gabe?” But she knew which one it was. She also knew that she had no intention of meeting his parents, now or ever! After this evening she wouldn’t be seeing him again, either…

  His mouth quirked, and he gave a slight shake of his head. “It isn’t going to work this time, Jane. I would very much like you to meet my parents,” he told her bluntly. “And for them to meet you.”

  “Why?” she came back just as bluntly.

  “Because they’re nice people.” He shrugged.

  His parents wouldn’t be the ones under inspection at such a meeting; she would. And she had been through all this once before in her life, eight years ago. She’d tried so hard at the time to win the approval of Paul’s parents, little knowing that she needn’t have bothered. The fact that she was the only child of very rich parents was the only asset she had needed in the eyes of Paul’s parents! It had never occurred to the elder Grangers that money could be lost more easily than it had been made…

  Jane hadn’t seen or heard from Paul’s parents since just before Paul’s death. On the one occasion she had attempted to telephone them they had claimed they would never forgive her for not even being at their son’s funeral. The fact that she had been in a clinic at the time, having just lost her baby—their own grandchild—and that Paul had been in the company of another woman at the time of his accident, hadn’t seemed to occur to them…

  “Do you introduce all your friends to them, Gabe?” The derision could be heard in her voice.

  He didn’t even blink, his gaze remaining steady on hers. “The ones that matter, yes!”

  She gave a humourless smile. “We barely know each other, Gabe. Did you introduce Jennifer to them before you married her?” she couldn’t resist adding.

  And then wished she hadn’t! Jennifer had been his wife; their own relationship wasn’t in the same category.

  “As it happens, yes, I did.” He relaxed back in his chair, smiling lazily. “My father was bowled over by the way she looked; my mother hated her on sight.” He gave a wry chuckle. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you which one proved to be right!”

  From what Jane knew of Jennifer Vaughan, men had always been “bowled over” by the way she looked. And the majority of women seemed to have disliked her intensely. Herself included.

  “That can’t have been easy for you,” Jane sympathised.

  “Nothing about that relationship was easy for me,” he acknowledged grimly. “And you’re changing the subject again, Jane—”

  “Because I don’t want to meet your parents, Gabe,” she sighed, becoming impatient with his persistence.

  “Why not?” he came back as bluntly as she had minutes ago.

  “Several reasons—”

  “Name them,” he put in forcefully, no longer relaxed, sitting upright in his chair, his gaze narrowed on her.

  “I was about to,” she rebuked softly; she did not want to get into an argument about this; she disliked arguments intensely. There had been too many of them with Paul. “Firstly, it puts a completely erroneous light on our friendship.” She deliberately used the casual term, knowing he had registered that fact by the way his mouth tightened ominously. “And secondly,” she added less confidently, knowing she was going to have that argument whether she wanted it or not, “I don’t think the two of us should see each other again after tonight!” It all came out in a rush, so desperate was she to get it over with as quickly as possible.

  Gabe raised those expressive dark brows. “And exactly what brought this on?” he questioned mildly.

  “Nothing ‘brought this on’, Gabe,” she returned exasperatedly. “I’ve been telling you to go away, one way or another, since the night we first met!” For all the good it had done her!

  “Exactly,” he nodded. “But this time you seem to mean it…” he said thoughtfully.

  “I meant it all the other times too!” Jane claimed scathingly, wondering, in the light of the fact that she had now, inwardly at least, acknowledged her attraction towards him, whether she had really meant all those other refusals she had given him…

  “Did you?” Gabe seemed to doubt it too!

  Of course she had meant them, she told herself strongly. Gabriel Vaughan was a man for her to avoid, not encourage. Besides, she was sure she hadn’t encouraged him. Not consciously, at least…

  But subconsciously? Had she been forceful enough in telling him to go away? She had thought so at the time. But—

  Enough of this! It was just confusing her.

  She stood up abruptly, intending to clear their plates. And there would be no cheese or dessert. After this conversation, a little earlier in the meal than she had anticipated, she acknowledged, it was time for Gabe to leave!

  “I meant it, Gabe,” she told him forcefully. “I don’t want to have dinner with you. I don’t want to meet your parents. And, most important of all, I don’t want to see you again! There, I can’t be any plainer than that.” She looked down at him with challenging brown eyes.

  He coolly returned her furious gaze. “And what about the Christmas present I got for you today?” he said softly.

  Present? He had bought her a Christmas present? “I think you were a little premature in buying me anything!” she told him impatiently. “But with any luck you’ll have found someone else before Christmas that you can give it to instead—after all, there are still a few days to go!”

  “Hmm, so we’re back to the insults, are we?” Gabe murmured thoughtfully as he stood up. “The present was meant for you, Jane, not someone else,” he bit out harshly, reaching out to clasp her arms.

  Jane suddenly had trouble breathing, knowing it was due to Gabe’s close proximity. “I don’t—”

  “Want it,” he completed harshly. “You know, Jane, determination, and a certain independence of spirit, is to be admire
d in a woman. But not,” he added dismissively as she would have made an angry reply, “when they are taken to the extreme of pigheaded rudeness! You went past that point several minutes ago,” he added tightly.

  “I—”

  “Shut up, Jane,” he rasped, pulling her effortlessly towards him.

  “You can’t—”

  “Please!” he added with a groan, his head bending and his lips claiming hers.

  Jane melted.

  It was as if she had been waiting for this moment since he had kissed her so lightly this morning. And there was nothing light or distracted about this kiss; all Gabe’s attention was focused on the passion that flared up between them so easily. Like tinder awaiting the flame. And it seemed they were that flame for each other…

  Her arms moved up about his neck, one hand clinging to the broad width of his shoulder, the other becoming entangled in the dark thickness of his hair, her body held tightly against his, moulded to each muscle and sinew.

  Without removing his lips from hers Gabe swung her up into his arms and carried her over to the soft gold-coloured sofa, laying her down on it before joining her there, their bodies even closer now, their breath mingling, Gabe’s hands moving restlessly over the slenderness of her back and thighs.

  Jane gasped softly as one of those hands moved to cup her breast, the gently sloping curve fitting perfectly against his own flesh, the nipple responding instantly to the gentle caress of his thumb, the tip hardening to his touch, a pleasurable warmth spreading through her thighs all the way to the tips of her toes.

  She wanted this man!

  Not like this, with their clothes between them, she wanted the naked warmth of his body next to hers, wanted to feel his hard possession, wanted to give him the same pleasure he was undoubtedly giving her.

  His hand was beneath the woollen cashmere of her jumper now, and he was groaning low in his throat at his discovery that she wasn’t wearing a bra, her breast naked to his touch.

  Her breasts had always been firm and uplifting, definitely one of her better assets, and she rarely saw the necessity to wear a bra.

  She groaned low in her own throat now as Gabe pushed aside the woollen garment, his head bending as his lips claimed possession of that fiery tip, his tongue rasping with slow, moist pleasure across her sensitive flesh.