A Christmas for Carrie

by Alison Packard

  Chapter Nine

  At half past four the next afternoon, holding a bag containing outdoor Christmas lights, Nick rang Carrie’s doorbell. He was taking a chance—he knew that—but it didn’t seem right that Carrie’s house was the only one on her block without lights. He hoped to convince her to let him put them up, but he’d back off if she was vehemently against them. In all honesty, it wasn’t the need to have Carrie’s entire block uniformly lighted that had brought him to her door. He wasn’t that anal.

  So what was it?

  Nick didn’t have an answer to that question. But what he did know was this magnetic pull he felt toward Carrie was damn unsettling, but not unsettling enough to keep him away.

  Last night had been...incredible. And it wasn’t just the sex. It was the way Carrie had effortlessly handled Alicia’s presence and her protectiveness with Beth Ann. It was the way she’d charmed both of his parents and how, despite some very valid reasons for hating the holidays, she was willing to let him show her that Christmas didn’t have to be depressing or sad.

  Nick heard the deadbolt slide open and his pulse heightened. Damn, he had it bad.

  “Hi,” Carrie said, opening the door with a smile. Despite the bracing cold, a spike of heat of caught Nick low in his gut. She was so appealing, with her clear green eyes, silky strawberry-blond hair and pink lips. His gaze skated over her snug knit top and faded jeans. She was the quintessential girl next door who didn’t seem to know how sexy she was. Her curious gaze lowered to the bag in his hand. “When you called you said you had something for me. Is that it?”

  Nick nodded, then swallowed hard at how the cool air had caused her nipples to pucker. He forced his gaze from the taut peaks that pushed against the fabric of her shirt and cleared his throat. “I was hoping you’d let me put these Christmas lights on your house.” He held up a hand as she frowned. “Hear me out. It’s just a simple string of lights I can attach along the eaves on the front of the house. It won’t take long. If you don’t like them I promise I’ll take them down.” He grinned, hoping to coax her into agreeing. “Yours is the only house without lights. Think of how happy you’ll make your neighbors.”

  A hint of a smile crossed her lips. “I’ve lived here for almost six years. They’re used to me not having lights.”

  “Then surprise them.”

  Still holding on to the door, she eyed him with suspicion. “Are you sure it’s just lights? You’re not going set up a Santa and some reindeer on my roof, are you? Or put some...some blow-up snowman on my lawn?” She looked pointedly over his shoulder at a similar ranch-style house across the street where a giant snowman had taken up residence in her neighbor’s front yard.

  “Nope. Just lights.”

  She swung her gaze back to his. “I only have a stepladder.”

  Prepared for objections, he had his rebuttal ready. “That’s not a problem. I brought my dad’s. And everything else I need.”

  “Okay. Fine,” she said, giving in. She squinted at the sky. “It’ll be getting dark soon.

  “There’s plenty of daylight left. You go inside and I’ll get to work.”

  “Be careful,” she warned and then closed the door.

  Nick whistled under his breath as he stepped off the porch and headed for the Explorer. Carrie hadn’t put up much resistance. Maybe his plan really was working.

  * * *

  Just over an hour later, standing in front of the stove, Carrie absently stirred a pot of cocoa with a wooden spoon and thought of Nick. And not for the first time. She’d been thinking about him all day.

  Common sense told her that she and Nick didn’t have a future together. He lived in San Francisco and had already told her he didn’t plan on moving back to Grass Valley. He would be gone soon—back to his life in the city.

  She’d known that last night but it hadn’t mattered. Nor did it matter this morning when she’d woken up in his arms. Nope. They’d made love again and it was just as amazing as the first time.

  It occurred to her that she was setting herself up for a huge heartbreak, but the potential pain wasn’t enough to deter her from spending as much time with him as she could. There was something about Nick she’d always been drawn to. Time and distance hadn’t changed that.

  That was why she hadn’t fought him on the Christmas lights. Did she want them on her house? Not particularly. But he seemed so earnest in his quest to change her mind about the holidays that she couldn’t find it in her heart to tell him no. And if she was being completely truthful, she wanted to be with him; if that meant having lights on her house then so be it. It wasn’t like she could see them from inside the house anyway.

  The ringing of her cell phone jerked her from her thoughts. Moving away from the stove, she picked up her phone from the counter and scowled. She stared at the screen and after the third ring, pressed the decline button. Ignoring a twinge of guilt, Carrie returned the phone to the counter. Despite their strained relationship, she usually returned her mother’s calls within a day or two. But the past two weeks with Nick had been so wonderful—so perfect—that she couldn’t bear to have it ruined. She’d return her mother’s call during the week, maybe during her lunch hour. Even with the three-hour time difference, it would still be the afternoon in Florida. It was the perfect time to call. Her mother didn’t do her serious drinking until after six.

  “Jones.” Nick’s voice coming from the living room banished all thoughts of her mother. She hurried from the kitchen to find Nick standing at the open front door looking like one of those hot contractors on television who renovated bathrooms, backyards and kitchens. In faded jeans that hugged his powerful thighs and a hunter-green Henley shirt with the long sleeves pushed up to his elbows, he was both wholesome and sexy—a potent combination that had every nerve ending in her body shifting into high alert.

  “Get your coat and get out here,” Nick said, then disappeared outside.

  After grabbing her pink ski coat from the closet, Carrie pulled it on as she moved to the porch and closed the door behind her. Nick was standing at the curb leaning against his truck, his impossibly handsome face lit only by the waning light of day. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she crossed the distance between them, almost excited—not that she would admit to it—at the prospect of seeing her house adorned with Christmas lights. Holding her breath, she turned around and disappointment surged through her. Her house looked like it did every night.

  “I don’t get it.” Carrie frowned, shooting a glance at Nick. “Where are the...?”

  “I thought I’d let you do the honors.” Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a small oblong white object with several buttons on it. “I set it up so you can turn them on and off with this. It’s the top button,” he said as she pulled her hand from her pocket and took the remote.

  Carrie pressed the button and gasped as the entire front of her house lit up with multicolored lights. Not only had Nick strung the lights on the eaves that ran along the front of her house and apex above her garage, he’d also put them around the garage door.

  Speechless, Carrie just stared. The lights weren’t flashy or dramatic like her neighbors’, but they were beautiful. She blinked as tears swam in her eyes. A ridiculous reaction to something so simple, but considering how many times she’d begged her father to do what Nick had done so effortlessly, she couldn’t help it.

  “What’s the verdict?” Nick put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “Do they stay put or do you want me to take them down?”

  “They can stay,” she whispered and leaned her head against Nick’s solid chest.

  Maybe good things could happen at Christmas.

  * * *

  “Thanks for the cocoa,” Nick said, about fifteen minutes after they’d come inside.

  Sitting across from Nick at her kitchen table, Carrie sm
iled and wrapped her fingers around her warm mug. “How was your mom this morning? She seemed pretty shaken up last night when your uncle arrived with Alicia.”

  “She’s fine.” Nick lifted his mug. “It turns out that my aunt is the one who asked for the divorce. Evidently, Uncle Vic and Aunt Carol have been separated for months. They just didn’t tell anyone.”

  “And here I was picturing Alicia as some sort of home wrecker.” Carrie smiled as Nick sipped his cocoa. “Hey, maybe she’ll be your new aunt,” she said and sat up in alarm as he started choking. “Are you all right?”

  Nick coughed several times and then cleared his throat. “Good God, Jones. Don’t even put that out into the universe,” he said with a frown and set his cup on the table.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. You have to admit. It would be like something out of a soap opera if the girl you once salivated over in high school married your uncle and became a part of your family.”

  “Well, thank God real life isn’t like a soap opera,” he said. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

  “Yep.” Carrie nodded. “But the firm closes the week of Christmas. I’ll be off all next week.” She paused. “Do you have plans Friday evening?”

  “No.” Nick pushed his mug aside and folded his arms on the table. “Why?” His eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Are you ready to decorate the inside of your house? We could get some garland for the mantel and buy a couple of Christmas stockings. I could even run over to McBurney’s and get a tree for you on Friday afternoon. It could be here waiting for you to decorate when you get home.”

  Carrie sighed and shook her head. “You won’t give up, will you?”

  “No. And why should I?” He flashed a smug grin. “I’m batting a thousand so far.”

  “Now you’re just being cocky,” she said, trying to suppress a smile.

  “No. I’m stating a fact. Admit it. You’re having fun this Christmas.”

  “Maybe. The jury’s still out.” She shrugged, not quite willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. “My office Christmas party is Friday night. Would you like to go with me?”

  A triumphant smile curved his lips. “Have you ever been to an office Christmas party?”

  “No.”

  Nick leaned back in his chair and made a grand sweeping gesture with his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I rest my case.”

  “Gloating is so not attractive.” She tried not to laugh as she picked up her mug and moved to the sink. She shot him a wry grin over her shoulder. “Just sayin’,” she said and turned and set her mug in the sink. She heard the scrape of the chair behind her and then Nick’s hands spanned her waist. His clean scent, so unique to him, drifted into her senses and sent a whisper of awareness through her body.

  “Do you have plans tonight?”

  “No.” He loosened his hands as she twisted around to face him. “I usually stay in Sunday nights to get ready for the workweek.”

  “What about dinner? You have to eat, right?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  A sexy half smile tilted his lips. “If we were at my house, I’d cook for you.”

  “You cook?”

  “Yes. And I’m damn good at it.”

  No surprise there. Nick was good at a lot of things. He’d proved that last night.

  “What’s your specialty?”

  “Pasta primavera.”

  “Sounds delicious.”

  “Let me cook for you. Tonight.” Nick lifted his hand and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, then lightly caressed her cheek. Carrie couldn’t ignore the thrill of happiness that fluttered in her heart.

  “I don’t think I have all the ingredients you need.”

  “No problem. I’ll make a quick run to the grocery store.” He grinned as her stomach decided at that very moment to growl. “See, your body wants you to say yes.”

  He was right about that. Her body wanted to say yes...to a lot of things.

  “Come on,” he prompted with a devil-may-care raise of one brow. “You know you want to.”

  “Okay.” She smiled at the triumphant sparkle in his eyes. “But if you’re cooking, then I’m cleaning up afterward. It’s only fair.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.” He leaned forward to lightly kiss her lips. “I won’t be long.”

  After Nick left, Carrie rushed to her bedroom and opened her closet. Dinner with Nick required something a whole lot sexier than her oldest pair of jeans.

  * * *

  Two hours later, seated across from Carrie at her kitchen table, Nick watched as she set her fork on her plate and picked up her wineglass. While he was at the grocery store, she’d changed clothes and now wore a silky blue blouse and a black skirt that showed off her killer legs. His gaze lingered on the creamy expanse of her skin just above the top button of her blouse and then lowered. Her nipples pressed insistently against the fabric. No bra—a jolt of heat caught him low in his gut at the thought of undoing every single one of those buttons.

  “That was amazing. My compliments to the chef,” she said, then sipped her wine.

  “I told you I could cook.” Nick leaned back and let the sensuous sound of the instrumental music channel Carrie had selected on her sound system to wash over him. To his surprise, she’d eighty-sixed her ’80s channel in favor of something more befitting a romantic dinner. The soft music and dim light, the flickering candles on the table, and a bottle of Pinot Grigio were the perfect accompaniment to sharing a meal with the woman he was finding it extremely hard to stop thinking about.

  “Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

  “I like to eat, and since I didn’t want to live on takeout alone, I bought a cookbook.” He paused. “What about you? Do you cook?”

  “I’m not half-bad. I have a few recipe websites that I like.” She smiled as she set her glass on the table. “Just a few weeks ago, I came across a great recipe for cinnamon French toast. It’s heavenly.”

  “I like French toast.” He picked up his glass and met her gaze across the table. “Would you mind sharing the recipe?”

  “No. But maybe you should try it first.” She leaned forward; the seductive gleam in her eyes made his heart kick. “I could make it for you. Tomorrow morning.”

  Nick’s pulse lurched into overdrive. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

  “Yes. But we could get up early.”

  “I like the way you think.” He drained his wineglass, set it on the table and then pushed his chair back. If he didn’t hold her soon he’d go insane. “Dance with me,” he said as he stood and moved to stand beside her. He held out his hand. She took it and he pulled her up and led her into the living room, in front of the fireplace.

  The moment she stepped into his arms his entire body reacted. Sexual need thickened the blood in his veins, his heartbeat echoed in his ears and all he could think about was feeling her heat and tasting the texture of her skin.

  Neither of them spoke as they began to sway to the music. Carrie lifted her arms and clasped her fingers behind his neck, pressing her body intimately to his. Resting her cheek against his chest, she didn’t seem surprised that his dick was getting harder by the second. Lost in the moment, Nick bent his head to inhale the soft flowery scent of her hair. He slipped one hand to her back and slowly, lingeringly, traced a path from the small of her back up her spine. She shivered and let out a soft gasp.

  “I think I found another erogenous zone,” he said, meeting her gaze as she lifted her head and looked up at him. “How many more do you have that I don’t know about?”

  Her lips curved in a mysterious smile. “A few.”

  “Care to tell me where they are?”

  “Sorry. You’ll have to discover them on your own.” Her green eyes twinkled with mischief.


  “Then I should start exploring,” he said and lowered his head. About two seconds after his lips touched hers the kiss went from hot to blistering. Their tongues met and Nick groaned as he savored the warm taste of her. Her body, so soft and feminine, was molded to the hardness of his and yet she still wasn’t close enough. He lowered his hands to the delectable curve of her ass and pulled her closer. As primal sensations bombarded him, he backed her up and pressed her against the wall between the kitchen and the hallway that led to the rear of the house.

  Tearing his mouth from hers, he took a ragged breath and stepped back. Carrie lowered her hands and silently held his gaze as he began to unbutton her blouse. When he’d freed the last button, he impatiently pushed the blouse open to reveal her breasts. They were perfection. Not only were they beautifully shaped, her erect nipples were flushed a dusky shade of pink. Desire slammed into him like a sixty-foot wave and, unable to resist, he cupped her fullness and flicked his thumbs over the rigid peaks. Carrie’s soft whimper of pleasure caused whatever restraint Nick might have had to snap. Burying his face in her breasts, he drew one nipple at a time into his mouth, lightly sucking and teasing until his body was strung so tight with need he thought he might explode.

  And then, because he couldn’t wait one second longer to taste her again, he dropped to his knees and lifted her skirt. His breath hitched at the sight before him. He looked up and met her burning gaze. “Seriously? You had no underwear on all through dinner?”

  “Surprise,” she said with an impish smile as she reached to her side and unzipped her skirt. It fell to her hips and then to the floor after Nick let go of the hem. With his heart thundering in his chest, he placed his hands on Carrie’s hips and leaned forward to press his lips to her abdomen. He felt her hands in his hair, and as he caught a whiff of her womanly scent, every cell in his body erupted with need. Thank God he hadn’t known she’d elected to go commando, he never would have made it through the meal. Her fingers threaded through his hair. “Nick.” She spoke his name in a breathy voice. He lifted his head; the hunger in her eyes only added to his aching need for her. “Don’t make me wait.”