His for Christmas

by Cara Colter/Michelle Douglas/Janice Lynn

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, glancing up at Luke. ‘You don’t know how much this means to me.’

  Luke’s brown-eyed gaze told her he knew exactly what it meant.

  They returned to the house and drank coffee, and ate a tea bun that Keira realised Luke must have bought fresh from town that morning.

  ‘Right,’ he said when they were finished, ‘now we’re going to make a boiled fruitcake.’

  Both Keira’s and Jason’s jaws dropped. ‘But,’ she started, ‘don’t you have work to do?’

  ‘Yep, I have a fruitcake to make.’ When she opened her mouth he shook his head. ‘There’s a few chores I’ll have to take care of later this afternoon, but that’s hours away yet. Besides, Jason will help me with them—won’t you?’

  ‘Sure I will.’

  He didn’t want to leave her alone to mope herself into a depression after that memorial service, she realised. His ongoing thoughtfulness touched her more deeply than she suspected it should. She shrugged that thought off. ‘But…a boiled fruitcake?’

  ‘I know we’ve left it a bit late, but Christmas isn’t complete without fruitcake.’

  She started to laugh. ‘I won’t argue with that.’

  ‘And when you were talking about Christmas memories the other day I suddenly remembered that every year I’d help my mother make a boiled fruitcake. It was always a bit of an event.’

  She was glad he had at least one good Christmas memory. She watched him dig out mixing bowls from a cupboard. He handed her a sheet of paper. ‘That’s her recipe.’ He handed Jason a measuring cup before planting himself in front of the pantry. ‘You better start by reading out the list of ingredients.’

  She read the items out one by one, and Luke retrieved them. Jason, reading over her shoulder, started measuring ingredients into bowls. She grabbed a wooden spoon and helped to mix. At some stage Luke put on the CD of Christmas carols and Keira lost herself in the simple pleasure of easy conversation, humming along to old favourites and making a cake.

  At some point it filtered into her that she would always mourn the loss of her baby, that she would never stop missing her Munchkin and all that could have been. Motherhood might be closed to her, but it didn’t mean life still couldn’t be good. At least…bits of it. Like Christmas.

  Luke nudged her with a friendly shoulder. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Sure.’ She pasted on a smile and pushed her sombre reflections aside. To help this man and his son have their first good Christmas in three years—that would give her more satisfaction than anything else at the moment. ‘I…’ She gestured. ‘This is fun.’

  ‘Yeah, it is,’ he said, as if it had taken him by surprise too.

  That was when it hit her that she needed a Christmas miracle, because she’d gone and done the unthinkable—she’d fallen in love with Luke Hillier.

  She swallowed. That was crazy nonsense! It was her haywire hormones and nothing more.

  Still, it was Christmas. And if she needed a miracle Christmas was the time to ask for one.

  Keira knew the exact moment Luke stopped in the living room doorway, but she didn’t turn around. Her growing awareness for the man continued to disconcert her—especially as she received such conflicting signals from Luke himself.

  At times he was utterly concerned and solicitous about her welfare, making sure she wanted for nothing, quietly watching to make sure she ate enough and that she didn’t physically push herself too hard. It made her feel like a princess, a queen. It made her feel not alone. It made her feel…loved.

  At other times, though, he was distant, gruff, almost abrupt, as if he were out of patience with her.

  And then there were those times when his gaze fastened on her mouth and his eyes would darken, his hands would clench, and something inside Keira would stir to languorous life and hold its breath, waiting for him to kiss her.

  He never did.

  And she couldn’t get the memory of their one kiss out of her mind. The feel of all that firm flesh beneath her fingertips, the rightness of his lips on hers. That kiss had transported her to a place she hadn’t known existed—beyond desire to a one-on-one harmony that had made her spirit soar. Her soul hungered to experience it again.

  Her lips twisted. Who was she trying to kid? She wanted to seize hold of it and never let go. Luke had experienced the desire, but that soul-to-soul togetherness hadn’t reached out and stroked him with its enchanted fingertips. If it had he wouldn’t be able to resist kissing her again and trying to recreate it.

  So…all in all, it was just as well he didn’t kiss her. And the sooner she forgot about kissing the better!

  If only she could get her stupid body to believe that. And her traitor of a heart.

  Maybe he’s giving you time to heal after your miscarriage?

  She crushed an almost hysterical desire to laugh. She was leaving for the city next week. Time was the one thing they didn’t have.

  She bit back a sigh and refused to turn around, even though Luke’s presence beat at her and made her skin itch and prickle.

  Jason, though, showed no such reticence as he brushed past Luke to get more staples from Luke’s office. ‘Hey, Dad, what do you think?’

  This morning she and Jason had gone shopping. They’d bought all the ingredients for Christmas dinner, and some odds and ends to make Christmas decorations. She’d wanted to prove to Luke that Christmas didn’t have to cost a lot of money. So this afternoon she and Jason were making angel chains and Christmas lanterns from shiny foil paper and hanging them as they went. Their handiwork draped the mantelpiece, hung from each of the windows, and festooned the French doors that lead out to the veranda.

  ‘It…uh…looks very festive.’

  She finished cutting out her row of angels. Only then did she allow herself to turn and survey Luke’s face. He stared around a bit dazed, but not in a bad way, she decided. He just needed to lighten up and let his hair down for a bit.

  A ripple of mischief squirmed through her. She grabbed a wad of tack and rose, moving to where Luke slouched in the doorway. ‘Here—you can help me.’ She handed him one end of her angel chain and pointed to the top of the doorframe. He obediently reached up and pressed it into place, giving Keira a pleasing eyeful of broad shoulder and rippling muscle as he did so.

  ‘My turn.’ She stood on tiptoe, one hand on Luke’s shoulder for balance as she reached above her head. One of Luke’s hands automatically went to the small of her back to steady her, and it felt so good there she took her time fixing her foil angels into place.

  ‘Are you almost finished?’ he eventually ground out.

  It made her grin. ‘Not quite.’

  With a flourish she pulled a spray of mistletoe from her pocket and dangled it above their heads. ‘Know what this is?’

  He scowled. ‘Mistletoe.’

  His utter lack of enthusiasm made her laugh. She tacked it into place. When she was done, his hand immediately dropped from her waist, but she left her hand resting on his shoulder. ‘Oh, no, you don’t, Luke Hillier. Not so fast. You’ve been caught under the mistletoe.’

  His jaw dropped. ‘But…but that’s cheating!’

  ‘Face it, Luke.’ She drew her hand down from his shoulder to his chest in a slow, lingering curve, relishing every contour and the way his muscles tightened at her touch. Beneath her palm his heart thudded, and the hot male feel of him branded itself on her skin. ‘You’re going to have to kiss the lodger.’

  He really did need to lighten up. She shimmied in closer, lifted her face. ‘C’mon, you can do it.’ She sent him her cheekiest grin and pointed to her cheek. ‘Right there, Hillier.’

  Her grin faded, however, as Luke lifted one large hand and curved it around the back of her head, his thumb running lightly back and forth over the pulse at the side of her throat. ‘You like playing with fire, Keely?’

  His eyes darkened. His lips—those sure, firm lips—parted as if to allow him to draw more breath into his lungs. Oh, dear Lord! H
er pulse went mad and the strength drained from her limbs. Her hand fisted into the cotton of his shirt as his mouth descended.

  He pressed the lightest of kisses to the side of her neck, just below her ear, his breath teasing her overheated flesh as his mouth moved to her cheek. ‘Here? Is this where you meant, Keely?’

  She tried to nod, but she couldn’t move. She could barely swallow as that thumb moved back and forth. Back and forth over that pulse point in a barely there skin-on-skin touch until need screamed through her. Just by the touch of his thumb!

  And the warm pressure of his hand curling around her scalp.

  And the dark promise in his eyes.

  And those wicked lips.

  ‘I consider myself more of a traditionalist, however.’

  Those sinful lips curved upwards and her breath hitched.

  ‘I prefer lip-on-lip contact.’

  Oh, he couldn’t mean—

  He touched his lips to the corner of her mouth. Her knees shook. He touched his lips to the other corner, lingering until white-hot tendrils whipped through her. He drew back, gazed at her long and hard, as if he meant to savour every single moment of the lip-on-lip contact he’d promised, and it drew her as taut as a newly strung bow. With agonising slowness he eased forward again. His lips brushed hers, feather-light, magical, and then he eased back, just as her lips opened in an attempt to deepen the fleeting caress. He grinned down at her, as if he knew exactly what havoc he’d played on her senses.

  ‘How was that, Keely? Pass muster?’

  She straightened, swallowed, and unclenched her hand from the cotton of his shirt. ‘You better watch yourself, Hillier.’ She smoothed the cotton out. ‘I’ll be spending the rest of Christmas trying to catch you beneath the mistletoe.’

  He threw his head back and laughed. ‘I consider myself duly warned. Now, enough of this seasonal silliness.’ He smiled as Jason came back in with a box of staples. ‘I need the pair of you to help me unload the car.’

  Keira and Jason stared at each other, and then at him.

  ‘I…uh…’ He shuffled his feet and looked deliciously out of his depth. He waved a hand at the decorations she and Jason had made. ‘It appears that great minds think alike,’ he muttered.

  With that, he strode from the room. Keira hesitated for half a second before following him out through the back door and down the steps towards the barn, doing what she could to get her hormones back under some semblance of control. All around her the wheat waved golden in the fields. High in the sky cirrus clouds traced tracks of foam. In two days it would be Christmas…and Luke had just kissed her! She jumped up and high-fived a branch in a nearby bottlebrush tree.

  Luke halted by the tray of the ute. She stopped beside him—not too close—and peered inside. ‘A Christmas tree?’ And by the look of its box it must have been the biggest one he could find.

  Jason peered over her shoulder. ‘Sweet!’

  She’d wanted to buy one when she and Jason had been shopping earlier, but had been afraid of overstepping some unspoken boundary.

  Luke glanced at her from beneath a lock of hair that had fallen forward onto his forehead. ‘Is it…um…okay?’

  ‘It’s better than okay!’ She couldn’t help it. She turned and hugged him. Hard. Then she let him go, because neither she nor her body had forgotten that episode beneath the mistletoe yet. ‘It’s perfect!’

  She stared down at the Christmas tree, and all the associated bags and boxes of tinsel and decorations. ‘My favourite Christmas memory is decorating the tree with my mother every year.’

  Luke planted his hands on his hips. ‘Why didn’t you say something sooner?’

  She shrugged and risked glancing up at him. ‘It didn’t seem right, somehow.’ But now…‘Ooh, c’mon—let’s unload it.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Time’s a-wasting.’

  The genuine delight on Keira’s face as they set up the Christmas tree lightened Luke’s heart. A Christmas tree—such a small thing—but it gave her so much joy.

  Mistletoe was an even smaller thing, he reminded himself with a wry twist of his lips, but it had nearly undone him. For a brief crazy moment her teasing had made him feel young again. He had to take serious care he didn’t get stuck under that mistletoe with her again.

  ‘Have some shortbread.’ Keira held a plate out towards him, humming along to ‘Deck the Halls’ as it blasted out from the CD-player.

  He took a break from unknotting tinsel to select a piece. He bit into the crumbly sweetness and then had to close his eyes against the vivid need that shook through him. He couldn’t let all this go to his head—Keira handing out traditional Christmas treats and singing along to carols while she helped his son decorate the tree, and both of them turning to him every now and again to tell him what a stroke of genius the tree was—none of it was real.

  Well, it was real, he amended, but it fed too closely into the fantasy. A fantasy that could never come true. This was a mirage—a temporary illusion. In a few days Keira would be gone, and she’d leave a gap in his life. He had no illusions about that. All the same, he would do nothing to stop her from leaving. He’d promote it if he had to.

  If she stayed he would break her heart—just as he’d broken Tammy’s. He’d make her promises he couldn’t keep—just as he had with Tammy. Keira’s eyes might go all soft now, when they rested on him, but if she stayed eventually they’d harden with disappointment and heartbreak. He’d put lines of care on her face.

  He couldn’t stand the thought of doing that. Better she left in a few days than they risk exploring the heights he instinctively knew they could scale together. Her eventual pain would not be worth it. It would be a thousand times better that he suffer the torment now than for her to suffer it later.

  In the meantime, he had to work at keeping things light.

  And no more kissing under the mistletoe!

  ‘Earth to Luke?’

  He crashed back to find Keira holding out a large golden star.

  ‘You can do the honours.’ And she pointed to the top of the tree.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you. You were the one to surprise us so wonderfully in the first place, and…’

  ‘And?’ he asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

  ‘And you’re the only one tall enough to reach the top.’

  He grinned and popped the rest of his shortbread into his mouth, wiped his fingers on his jeans and carefully took the star. He settled it into place, securing it there as gently as he could and doing his best not to dislodge any of the other decorations.

  He stepped back to survey their handiwork.

  ‘Sweet,’ Jason said, moving in beside him.

  ‘Perfect,’ Keira breathed from his other side.

  And just for a moment while he stared at the tree he had a glimpse of the true spirit of the season, and it eased the ache out of his chest.

  ‘It really does feel like Christmas now,’ Keira added with a satisfied sigh, and his chest expanded. His plan had worked, but it hadn’t just lifted her spirits. It had lifted Jason’s too. Even teenagers need Christmas. He vowed that in the future he wouldn’t forget.

  He stepped back before the fantasy could swallow the last shred of his sanity. ‘Is there anything else we need to make Christmas perfect?’ Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. That meant there was only one more shopping day left.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Keira sucked her bottom lip into her mouth before letting it go again. It glistened as bright as the tinsel and the foil angels that swayed in the breeze from the French doors. For the life of him, Luke couldn’t look away. ‘We’ve bought enough food to feed an army!’

  ‘We’re roasting a turkey and vegetables,’ Jason said, practically drooling as he threw himself down on the sofa. ‘Keira promised to show me how to cook it so we can make it next year.’

  When Keira wouldn’t be here.

  Luke retreated to his armchair and pretended to admire the Christmas tree.

  ‘And we have all t
he ingredients for a pavlova.’

  From her tone, pavlova must be one of her all-time favourite things.

  ‘Not to mention enough chocolate-coated sultanas, shortbread, sweets and nuts to sink a ship.’

  ‘And fruitcake,’ he added, remembering how they’d made that cake—the easy laughter and camaraderie.

  ‘And fruitcake,’ she agreed.

  She settled herself in the other armchair, the one furthest from him and nearest the Christmas tree. Her hair curved around her face. He curled his hands into fists, but that didn’t stop him remembering its softness. She wore the same shorts she had the day she’d paddled in the river—the day of their picnic. The day they’d—

  She crossed her legs, her shorts rode up, and he forced himself to glance away.

  He saw Jason surveying the tree with eyes that glowed and his heart clenched. He would never be able to thank Keira for bringing Christmas back into his son’s life. He had to clear his throat before trusting himself to speak. ‘Are you spending Christmas night with your grandparents?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  Something about his tone had Luke straightening. Now that he came to think about it, Jason hadn’t spent any time at all with Brenda and Alf this last week. ‘You want to tell me about it?’

  Jason shrugged. ‘We had words,’ he mumbled. ‘I told them they had to stop saying bad things about you in front of me—that I didn’t want to hear it. I told them they were wrong about you, and that you did love Mum even if it wasn’t the way they wanted you to.’

  Luke stilled.

  ‘I told them to get back to me when they’d worked out if they could do that or not.’

  ‘Aw, hell, son, I…’ He swallowed, and tried to tell Jason how much Brenda and Alf needed him, but he choked up.

  Keira spoke over the top of him anyway. ‘Good for you. They’ll come around—you’ll see.’

  Did she really think so?

  ‘Yeah, I reckon they will too.’