12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart

by Anthology

  Once the curtain was down and the lights up, Evie and Van hurried back to the hotel, but Tom and Eleanora strolled hand in hand, walking leisurely under the bright neon lights of the Strip.

  “Did you like it?” he asked her after a while.

  “I loved it.”

  “It’s different being there in person, isn’t it? Did you think it would be the same as watching it on TV?”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I don’t know how to explain this, but I don’t have thoughts like that at all. If you’d asked me yesterday my thoughts on seeing Donny and Marie on TV versus seeing them live, I wouldn’t have been able to answer you. I wouldn’t have had an inkling of what it was like to see TV stars singing and dancing ten feet away from my eyes. I would have wondered if you were making fun of me.”

  “And maybe dressed me down with your numbers routine?”

  She whipped her head to his, a slow smile spreading across her face. “You caught that yesterday morning, huh?”

  “I don’t think anyone at the restaurant missed it.” He squeezed her hand. “You were brilliant.”

  She sighed. “I get sick of it, you know?”

  “Getting hit on?”

  “Getting hit on, being objectified . . . the assumption that I’m so desperate, I’m a sure thing.”

  “I don’t see you like that, you know.”

  She stopped walking, looking up at him, the red, yellow, and green lights above them sparkling in her eyes. “I know.”

  “What if I kissed you again?” he whispered.

  “What if you did?”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Maybe I’d mind if you didn’t.” He dipped his head and caught her bottom lip between his, winding his arms around her slim form and pulling her against his body. She was lithe and small next to him, and she tasted like pineapple juice and rum, and Tom knew that he’d never drink a piña colada for as long as he lived without thinking about Eleanora English.

  She whimpered into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, slipping his tongue between her lips, feeling the ridges of her teeth before her tongue met his. The wet velvet lit his blood on fire, and he gripped her harder, pushing against her lower back to make sure she could feel the ridge of his erection pressed against her stomach, and wondering if it was possible for her to want him half as much as he wanted her.

  * * *

  Their second kiss, in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip with a thousand anonymous witnesses, was far more intimate than the one they’d shared in the tiny chapel in front of an old man and their two closest friends. She could feel the outline of Tom’s whole body against hers, and Eleanora arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest and sighing when he growled her name near her ear. His lips grazed her throat, and she leaned her head back to give him complete access, his arms tightening around her as he pressed hot little kisses to her skin, at her pulse, in the tiny cove at the base of her throat.

  A couple of kids snickered as they walked by, one of them saying, “Fuck her, man!” while the other advised them to “Get a room!” and Eleanora remembered herself, placing her palms flat against Tom’s chest and pushing gently. He straightened, looking down at her, his eyes dark blue and fierce.

  “You’re like a drug. The more I touch you, the more of you I want.”

  I know the feeling, she thought.

  But this is only temporary, whispered her heart.

  “Tom,” she said, pushing against his chest with a little more force as she caught her breath. “We shouldn’t.”

  He loosened his arms and took a step away from her, searching her face, his expression intense, almost furious. “I didn’t see you coming. I didn’t expect you.”

  “I didn’t expect you either.”

  “What now?” he asked.

  Was he hoping she’d invite him to her room or accept an invitation to his? If she slept with him, she’d know how it felt to have his body slide into hers, claim hers, love hers. She’d know the wonder of tender, loving sex with this man, with her husband. She’d know how it felt to be treasured for a brief unforgettable moment. But . . .

  How, then, could she bear to return to her world? For the rest of her life, she would measure every man against Tom, and none would measure up to her beautiful, thoughtful husband of three days. She’d be ruined for happiness, and though she’d never expected much, now that she’d had a taste, she couldn’t deny she wanted more. Wanting it from Tom, however, was not only unrealistic, but unfair. He’d been clear with her. She was a solution to a problem that, once resolved, would conclude their business. And her payment for services rendered was more than fair.

  “I haven’t seen the pool yet,” she said, glancing up at the sky and blinking back the useless tears she wished away. “I bet it’s lovely at night.”

  When she met his eyes, he quickly concealed a grimace with a quick, disingenuous smile. He was disappointed in her suggestion.

  “Tom,” she said gently, “it’s not that I don’t want to.”

  “Then . . .?”

  “We’re temporary, and I know that, but you’re already in my head. I can’t afford to have you in my heart too. And if I gave you my body—even for one night—I know that’s where you’d end up: in my heart. And when we shake hands and walk away from each other, you’d take my heart with you. And I’d be left alone without it. I can’t live without my heart, Tom.” She paused, swallowing over the lump in her throat. “I can’t . . . I can’t let myself fall for you.”

  His eyes had grown progressively more stricken as she spoke, as if he understood her words so perfectly, they could have come out of his mouth just as easily.

  “I understand,” he said, offering her his elbow and a genuine, if sad, smile. “The pool it is.”

  She placed her hand on his bare arm, and the springy hairs tickled her fingers for a moment until she tightened her grip, letting him lead her around the back of the hotel through well-lit, landscaped pathways.

  “Why The Swiss Family Robinson?” she asked in an effort to make conversation that would steer them to safer waters.

  He chuckled softly, the noise welcome on the warm winter breeze. “I was wondering when you’d ask me about that.”

  “It’s not an obvious choice.”

  He shrugged. “But it’s my favorite. I think it’s the main character, the oldest brother, Fritz. He’s intelligent and strong, but impetuous. I always liked him.”

  “No wonder.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It sounds like you,” she said, pushing a long lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

  He preened internally from her praise, accepting and savoring it as they walked into the moonlight.

  “But isn’t it Fitz?” she asked. “Like Fitzwilliam?”

  “No, Burnett,” he teased. “It’s Fritz with an r. A German name for a Swiss family.”

  “Ah.” She sighed, then cocked her head, looking up at him. “But you have to admit that Fitz sounds nicer. Like Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

  “Mr. Darcy. You’re an Austen fan.”

  “Show me a woman who isn’t!”

  He laughed again, pulling his arm away from her so that he could find his room key in his pocket and show it to the pool gate attendant. A moment later, they were afforded access to the dark, quiet patio surrounding the glowing blue pool.

  “So why else is it your favorite?” she asked.

  “I guess I liked the sense of adventure. The idea of living on a deserted island. And, well, if I’m honest, I loved the idea of four brothers. I grew up alone, and I would—oh, I don’t know. I guess I was a little jealous of the Robinsons with all those brothers.”

  “I didn’t know you were an only child.”

  Tom gestured to a double chaise by the pool’s edge, and Eleanora sat down, swinging her legs up on the canvas seat as Tom sat down beside her. “Technically, I’m not. I have a little brother, my father’s son from his second marriage. But he’s only eight
een. We barely know each other.”

  “I see,” she said, her voice kind and warm. “So lots of brothers sounded ideal.”

  “A big family sounded ideal,” said Tom, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side. “Still does.”

  “Is that what you want someday?”

  “Mm-hm,” he breathed softly. “A gaggle of kids so they’re never lonesome, so they always have each other.”

  “Sounds nice,” she said. “Coming from four, I always thought—well, when I thought of having a family, which wasn’t very often—I always imagined it big. I don’t know any different.”

  “A working mom?” he asked. “Managing your bookstores and a big family?”

  She looked up at him and grinned. “Something like that. Maybe.”

  He stared into her eyes for a long time, one hand caressing her shoulder as the other reached for her face. Finally he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her gently, reverently, without the heat from their previous kiss, but with ten times the tenderness.

  “I hope you get everything you want,” he whispered, his breath soft against her lips. “I like you so much, Eleanora English.”

  “I like you too,” she answered, nestling against his chest and closing her tired eyes.

  In no time at all, they were asleep, held fast in each other’s arms, their dreams mingling and marrying under the fathomless desert sky.

  Chapter 6

  When their small plane touched down in Vail the next morning and Van announced that he was staying to spend Christmas with Eve Marie, Tom wasn’t certain who was more shocked—him or Eleanora.

  “What are you talking about?” demanded Tom, pulling his friend aside on the tarmac as Eleanora did the same with her cousin.

  Van rubbed the back of his neck. “We never . . . I mean, we meant to, you know, seal the deal last night, but we fell asleep.”

  “You . . . what? You fell asleep?”

  Van shrugged, looking sheepish. “She was talking about Donny and Marie and how much she liked them, and . . . I don’t know . . . I got to thinking if she liked them so much, I should get us a record player and a couple of their records ’cause we could dance and I’ll bet she’d like that. So the concierge rustled up a few albums and brought them up. And then we were dancing and we had some Champagne, and before I knew it, I woke up next to her on the couch. Clothes still on. And the phone was ringing because you and Ellie were already waiting for us downstairs.”

  “I’ve never known you to blow a sure thing like this. Should I be worried?” asked Tom, smirking at his friend and vastly enjoying Van’s obvious discomfort.

  “Nah.” Van looked over at Eve Marie, who was gesticulating wildly as she told her cousin a similar, if more enthusiastic, version of the story, and Tom noted how his friend’s face softened as he looked at her. “Listen, my folks already left for our ski house in Stratton, and Ellie’s going back East with you, so I just thought I may as well, I don’t know, keep her company. Stick around for a few more days.”

  “I didn’t know they were spending Christmas in Vermont. I’ve always loved Stratton,” said Tom, giving Van a sly smile. “You could easily jump on a plane and join them, you know.”

  “I kinda—aw, fuck. You want me to say it? I’ll say it. I kinda like her. She’s, I don’t know, she’s sorta dumb and sorta sweet, but she makes me laugh, and when she looks up at me with those big blue eyes, I just . . .”

  Tom shook his head at Van with a mixture of teasing and disbelief. “I never thought I’d see it happen.”

  “This from the one who got married in Vegas yesterday,” muttered Van grumpily. “Which, by the way, I still think is completely nuts.”

  Tom’s grin faded, and his voice held a strong note of warning. “Keep your opinions about Eleanora to yourself, okay? For however long, she’s my wife. I need you to respect that.”

  Van scoffed, looking back over at the girls. “I guess I’m not the only one falling for a Watters cousin, huh?”

  Tom shrugged, glancing over at Eleanora, who was hugging Evie tightly. She caught Tom’s eyes over her cousin’s shoulder and winked at him.

  “You’re definitely not the only one,” said Tom, his gaze locked on his bride.

  Tom wrote Eve Marie a check for Eleanora’s share of January’s rent, and the cousins hugged goodbye, with Eleanora promising she’d be back before New Year’s. As they stood side by side on the tarmac, waving at the departing cab, Tom reached for Eleanora’s hand, delighting in the way she laced their hands together and looked up at him with a sunny smile.

  “I’m glad she won’t be alone for Christmas,” she said.

  “Me too. Ready for Philly?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Is Philly ready for me?”

  He chuckled, putting his arms around her. “Let’s hope so.”

  She leaned against him, her blue eyes serious and her voice husky when she spoke. “It was nice waking up next to you, Tom.”

  “Yeah,” he said, drawing her closer and brushing his lips against her forehead. “For me too.” Though, frankly, he wouldn’t have minded waking up beside her naked body in a bed, instead of her clothed one in dew-covered pool chairs.

  She rested her cheek on his chest, her voice a little muffled when she spoke. “I know that we only have a few days together, but . . .”

  “But what, sunshine?”

  She leaned back and looked up at him, seemingly surprised by the endearment, though her grin told him it pleased her too.

  “Could we just be happy?” she asked. “Just . . . pretend like we’re really married? Like this is our first Christmas as a married couple?”

  “We really are married, and this really is our first Christmas as a married couple.”

  “I know. But you know what I mean . . . Could we just—”

  “You mean, get a tree? Drink eggnog? Take a walk in the snow?”

  “Exactly,” she said, her voice warming. “Maybe watch a Christmas movie. And I can make dinner for us . . . you know, if you wanted me to.”

  I want you to. I want all of it just as much as you do.

  But real life intruded on his dreams.

  “If everything goes according to plan, we’ll have to go to my grandparents’ house for Christmas.”

  “Oh.”

  “However, if I’m disowned, we’ll hang out at my apartment, and I’ll be glad to eat whatever you make.”

  “They’ll believe us, Tom,” she said, drawing back to look into his eyes. “We’ll make sure of it.”

  Her eyes were sharp and serious, her pillowed lips pressed together with earnestness. She was so beautiful, such a capable teammate, he couldn’t help himself: he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

  Her hands had been trapped between them, but she looped them around his neck, pulling his head down, sweeping her tongue into his mouth and bowing her back so that their bodies were flush. Her fingers played with the hair on the back of his neck, massaging and pulling, and his body caught fire with the heat of his longing. He groaned into her mouth as he hardened on command, wanting to feel more of her, know more of her, have more of her.

  “Eleanora,” he panted near her ear. “What are you doing to me?”

  “The same thing you’re doing to me,” she sighed.

  He held her tightly, breathing in the sweet scent of her maple syrup hair and reveling in the feeling of her small body pressed so intimately against his. And then it came to him, in a flash, in a flame, in a burst of realization that made him shudder as she clung breathlessly to him:

  Love.

  Was this love?

  He frowned.

  Infatuation? Sure.

  But love? Impossible.

  Even if what he felt was the zygote of a someday love, he wasn’t even comfortable calling it that at this point. He’d only just met her. Christ, he barely knew her.

  She sighed in his arms and readjusted her cheek against his shoulder, and his h
eart throbbed with it again—this deep, spreading, as-yet-unnamed feeling that was multiplying with every moment they spent together—and it felt both terrifying and fucking awesome, and frankly, Tom didn’t care if he never felt it with another woman for the rest of his life, as long as he got to feel it with Eleanora forever.

  Forever.

  And therein lay the problem.

  He didn’t have forever.

  He barely had now.

  * * *

  Tom was quiet on the plane ride East, despite Eleanora’s attempts to engage him. He wasn’t rude to her, just distracted, and finally she stopped trying, resting her head against the window and falling asleep to the white noise of the engine.

  When she woke up, it was dark outside and the plane was still. Tom was squatting in front of her, holding her hands, his face gray in the dim light.

  “Tom,” she murmured.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.”

  “You’re like a dream.”

  “Or a miracle,” he said softly, dropping his lips to her hand and kissing it gently. “We’re here.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed, opening her eyes and pulling her hands away so she could stretch her arms over her head. “How long was I out?”

  “Hours. We didn’t sleep that well last night, I guess.”

  “Or the night before,” she added, feeling around for her shoes with her socked feet. “I could sleep for a million years.”

  “It’s only seven o’clock here. How about some takeout first? Then sleep?”