His whole life, everybody he’d ever loved had left him. His dad had never wanted to stick around; his mother had died; Brenda had left him—had left their marriage—and when she left she had taken all his feelings, his entire capacity to love, with her. In a strange way, it was as if she returned everything she had taken.
Now, if he hadn’t already blown it, he knew exactly who owned his heart. “Will you forgive an idiot?”
She looked at him as if he were crazy. And he was. Crazy for her. Crazy for letting her go. “Can you be more specific?”
“Let’s just say it took dinner with my ex-wife to help me realize exactly what I was losing.”
Lily blanched.
For the love of God, could he make this sound any worse?
“Brenda came back to Celebration with her mind set on us reconciling. But we both realized tonight that my heart isn’t available.”
Lily frowned at him. He could see her wall going up again, as she opened her mouth to say something.
“It’s not available to her because it belongs to you. If you’ll have it. Please tell me you will. Or feel free to tell me I’m a fool. And you can walk away. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Yesterday, forgetting George brought up some personal issues that I’ll have to tell you about sometime. It triggered some bad memories. That, mixed with Brenda’s surprise appearance and realizing that I’m in love with you. I just— I didn’t handle it very well.”
Her hand flew to her mouth, and she watched the carefully erected wall she’d built around herself fall, brick by brick.
* * *
The next thing Lily knew, she was in his arms and his lips were on hers. It started as a featherlight kiss and it made her heart pound and her brain fog as reason flew out the window.
It began easy and slow—a brush of lips and hints of tongue, testing the waters. So she slid her arms around his neck, her hands into his hair, and opened her mouth, inviting him in.
Cullen’s hands were on her back, and his mouth was on her lips, and all her girl parts sang, Oooh, yes, please, as every sense was heightened by his touch.
He deepened the kiss a few layers. Her whirling mind registered her pounding heart and the velvet feel of his lips on hers—skilled lips, capable hands... Losing herself in that kiss, in him, she enjoyed how he made her feel...so alive and...wanton...craving his touch...his lips on her temple, her earlobe, her neck—
The feel of him teased her senses, making her feel hot and sexy and just a little bit reckless—
She pulled back, gasping for air, more than a little bit disoriented. Fearing she was going to wake up from this lovely dream to find herself cold and alone—or worse yet, that they would look over and discover that they had an audience of four, or three, since sweet Bridget was sick. But even if one child caught them—
“Cullen, I’m there. I’m so there,” she said, but she hesitated. She wasn’t going to put up with this back-and-forth nonsense. “But maybe we need to talk about exactly where it is we’re going. You can see that it takes every ounce of everything I have to resist you.”
A low moan escaped his throat and he looked at her as if he didn’t plan on giving her any help in the abstinence department.
And that was fine. She didn’t want abstinence, but she did want to make sure they wanted the same things and went about them the right way.
“I can’t stay with you tonight,” she said. “Not with the kids in the house. How would we explain that? It would be too confusing, and God knows they don’t need any more confusion in their lives.”
He nodded. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
She held up her hand, trying to ignore the way her lips felt swollen and wanting and her intimate parts were ready to mutiny and say to hell with propriety. So she bit down on her bottom lip to help her think straight. “I need to know that what happened yesterday isn’t going to happen again—”
“I swear to you. I just needed to sort out everything. And I did.”
“And I’m glad,” she said. “So, this week we’re going to take things slowly. We’ll know when the time is right.”
Possibly the Jingle Bell Ball next Saturday?
Chapter Twelve
Now, gazing at her across the crowded dance floor of the Grand Puerto Vallarta Hotel, she’d looked as if she’d stepped from a dream—his own recurring dream that had been playing on an endless loop since he came to his senses last week. Cullen felt a stir of desire as he returned to Lily with two flutes of champagne.
Her emerald-green gown hugged those perfect curves. She looked soft and sensual and so damn sexy that his groin tightened with appreciation. Since she’d come into his life three weeks ago—had it been only three weeks?—he couldn’t remember his life without her. It had been love at first sight, whether he wanted to believe it or not. But the truth of the matter remained. The moment he’d first set eyes on her something inside him had shifted; life as he knew it had ceased to exist once she had arrived. Life had gone from shades of gray and going-through-the-motions to days and nights filled with purpose and breathtaking possibility.
The orchestra transitioned into the beginning strains of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.” When he reached the table, he set down the champagne and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
On the dance floor, he swept her into his arms. She gazed up at him, her eyes dark green and full of emotion. Their lips were a breath apart as they swayed together—not in a formal dance that moved them around the room, but in a slow, private dance that moved through them, joining them, making them one.
Since last week, he hadn’t looked back, and now that she was in his arms, he intended to keep moving forward—as fast as she would let him.
He took a deep breath, losing himself in the scent of her. He wouldn’t let himself overthink it. He would just go with it.
The dance floor was crowded, but it was nice holding her in his arms. They danced to three more songs before Lily suggested, “How about we drink that champagne now?”
He stepped back to lead her off the dance floor, but she was frozen in place, staring at a man dancing with a blonde a few couples over from them. The guy, who was staring back at her, seemed just as surprised to see her.
“Is everything all right?” Cullen asked.
Lily leaned in and whispered, “That’s Josh.” By this time, the guy had maneuvered his date so that they were dancing next to them.
“Lily.” The guy leaned in and planted a kiss on her, a little too close to her lips for Cullen’s liking. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Cullen didn’t appreciate the way he was looking at Lily.
“Well, surprise. Here I am. I didn’t expect to see you, either. Cullen, this is Josh Stockett.” She smiled, but Cullen could read between the lines. It took him a moment before he put a name with the face and realized this was her ex-fiancé. “Josh, my date, Cullen Dunlevy.”
Cullen offered his hand. Josh gave a perfunctory shake, and Cullen picked up on the tension.
Josh’s full attention was on Lily.
“How have you been?” he asked.
“I’ve never been better,” she said.
“Hi, Lily,” Josh’s date said, inserting herself into the conversation. “I’m Ann-Elizabeth Hardy, soon to be Ann-Elizabeth Stockett.” The woman giggled and flashed a diamond solitaire on her left hand. “Josh and I are getting married. How do you and Josh know each other?”
* * *
How do we know each other?
Had the jackass not told her he’d been engaged? She slanted a look at Josh, who looked as though he was holding his breath.
It would be fun to torture him or introduce herself as the former future Mrs. Josh Stockett. But the guy wasn’t worth it.
“Oh, Josh and I? We go way back.”
“We sure do,” said Josh. “In fact, how about a dance for old times’ sake?”
Lily looked at Cullen, hoping he would intervene. But he was no help.
“By all means,” he said. “Be my guest. In fact, Ann-Elizabeth, would you do me the honor?”
Traitor!
The orchestra was playing a jazzy version of “Fly Me to the Moon.” Josh slipped his arm around Lily’s waist. She put her left hand in his, in the obligatory formal dance position. The guy couldn’t dance, but he was pretending to.
Lily was damned if she was going to be the one to start the conversation. So they moved in awkward fashion in the opposite direction of where Cullen and Ann-Elizabeth were dancing.
She wasn’t about to address the elephant between them, the fact that he hadn’t bothered to tell the woman he was going to marry that he’d almost married someone else. Wasn’t that just so Josh Stockett?
“How have you been?” he finally said.
“You already asked me that, Josh. And I said I’ve never been better.”
“Cullen seems like a nice guy.”
That was a layup. A chance to go on about how Cullen was a man who knew how to talk about his feelings, didn’t ignore the things that were hard to talk about until he was backed into a corner and a camera was rolling to capture the whole thing on film. But there was no sense in rehashing it tonight on the dance floor at the Jingle Bell Ball.
Josh had already proved he had a talent for leaving Lily to discuss the good and important things. She wasn’t going to let Josh taint this night.
So, digging deep into her Southern manners, she said, “He’s such a great guy.”
“Thank you for being cool with Ann-Elizabeth.”
“Cool? I don’t know what you mean.”
“Obviously I haven’t told her about us.”
Us?
Hearing the word used in that context made Lily feel a little sick and grateful they were no longer an us.
“You might want to do that,” Lily said. “Maybe not tonight.... Or you know what, on second thought, maybe you should do it tonight. You owe it to her, Josh. You owe it to the woman you’re going to marry to be honest with her even if it’s a hard conversation. Because if the relationship can’t survive honesty, it’s doomed from the start.”
Josh blanched. They danced without talking for several moments. When the song was over, Lily turned to leave, but Josh held on to her hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You deserve to be treated a lot better than I treated you, and I want to apologize. That’s me being honest with you.”
She weighed his words for a moment, but all she could find in them was sincerity. “Thank you, Josh. Ann-Elizabeth seems like a nice girl. Good luck to the two of you. I hope you’ll treat her right.”
He smiled as he let go of her hand and she turned and walked away.
Cullen was waiting for her on the edge of the dance floor.
“Whose side are you on?” she whispered when she reached him.
“Your side, of course.” He smiled a knowing smile. “It’s important to take care of unfinished business.”
Lily shrugged.
“Closure is important,” he said. “Take it from someone who knows. Because you can’t move on until you settled your past.”
“Spoken like a man who knows what he’s talking about.”
Cullen nodded. “Are you ready to move on?”
There was more to that question than face value suggested. Lily took a moment before answering to search her heart. Was she ready to move on?
There were different reasons that a person might stay stuck in the past. You could harbor hopes of getting back together and miss out on life while holding out for a chance to be reunited.
She could also hold out because she was deluding herself, which was what she’d been doing with Josh.
She didn’t want him.
No. No, she didn’t. Ann-Elizabeth, bless her heart, could have him. Lily just hoped that Josh was honest with her and didn’t put her through the same misery he’d put her through. “You have no idea just how ready I am,” she said.
Cullen leaned in and kissed her. His lips lingered long enough to entice her to lean in for more, as he ran a strong hand up her back.
When they broke apart, she saw Josh standing there watching her with a look on his face that suggested he wasn’t entirely happy witnessing the scene. Poor Ann-Elizabeth, Josh’s perfect debutante, was watching her beloved fiancé watch Lily, with an uncertain look that Lily was all too familiar with.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” Lily said, feeling free and cleansed of Josh for the first time since he’d broken her heart.
Cullen put his arm around her and pulled her in close as they walked out of the ballroom.
* * *
They didn’t talk on the way back to Cullen’s house. Yet it was an emotionally charged silence. They both knew what was going to happen when they got home. The girls were staying at Sydney’s, and George was at a sleepover at the home of one of Cullen’s colleagues who had a son George’s age. The boys had become fast friends after Lily had invited the boy over for a playdate. It was like a breath of fresh air to see George so happy after the basketball-camp fiasco.
It was just the two of them tonight. It was the first time they’d been alone for any significant amount of time without having to worry that the kids were going to pop in.
God knew they couldn’t keep their hands off each other when they were pressed for time.
So, yeah, they knew what would happen next. It was as inevitable as the sun rising in the east that she’d wake up in his bed tomorrow morning.
Knowing that—and they both knew it—the twenty-minute drive from Dallas back to Celebration could’ve been a cooling-off period for either of them. A chance to realize this was a mistake. But it wasn’t.
Lily refused to allow words—small talk, or big important declarations of love, or lack thereof—to talk them out of what had been inevitable since the first time they’d laid eyes on each other.
When Cullen put his hand on her knee and sensually slid it up—higher, higher—and when he would lean over and plant kisses on her lips at a stoplight and trail kisses down her neck at stop signs, she knew he, too, refused to let words get in the way.
The silence broken only by the kisses and the feel of his hand, which had found its way under her gown and had taken possession of her thigh, heightened the anticipation of what was to come.
Finally he steered the car into the driveway and they were alone in the house. Just the two of them. In the foyer, it was silent except for the distant strains of the Christmas carols playing on the radio that they always left on these days. The large wooden front door was the only thing between them and the outside world.
They stood together. His lips were a mere fraction from hers. He was so close that they were breathing the same air. She could smell the intoxicating scent of him—he smelled like heaven: a subtle blend of soap and grassy aftershave mixed with an indefinable masculine note that was all him. The essence of him had infused itself on her senses and it had gone to her head faster than the champagne they’d enjoyed tonight. She was still tipsy from the champagne and the freedom of bidding Josh a final farewell, but she was drunk on Cullen—his taste, his scent, the way she imagined his body would feel on hers.
She wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly they were in each other’s arms. In one heated motion, he’d pulled her into his embrace and backed her against the door, kissing her all the while. Just as he had possession of her body, he’d stolen her heart. She wanted to tell him he could have them. Both of them. They already belonged to him, but she did not have to say it.
He understood.
He laced his fingers through hers and pressed their bodies together. She felt him respond to her as parts of him swelled and hardened. The feel of him sent heat thrumming through her. The simple sensation of his mouth on hers swept her away into a world that was theirs alone. The past couldn’t touch them and the future seemed a million miles away.
Things between them were different now. Or maybe it had always been this way, but right now, in this moment, this thing that had been brewing between them felt deeper and impossibly right.
For the first time in a long while, Lily’s guard dropped and her heart opened to possibility.
He let go of her hands and wrapped himself around her, shifting his body to deepen the kiss. Her hands explored the expanse of his shoulders, trailed down the hard muscles of his back.
His kisses sent spirals of ecstasy unfurling in her belly. That shimmer of heat sparked and yearning flamed and burned deep and hot. She couldn’t remember when she’d wanted a man as much as she wanted him. The thought of making love to him right there in the foyer sent a hungry shudder through her whole body. Suddenly she needed him naked and on top of her so that he could bury himself inside her.
Now.
Right now.
But Cullen had different plans. He led her out of the foyer. At the base of the stairs, he scooped her up and kissed her deeply as they made their way upstairs.
The journey to his bedroom was the longest path she’d ever traveled, longer than the car ride home, longer than it had taken them to arrive at this moment.
When they finally reached his room, he set her down and they stumbled through the doorway, pulling at each other’s clothes, driven only by the burning need to get closer, closer, until their bodies joined as one.
Somewhere between the car and the bedroom, he had lost his tie, and the first couple of buttons of his shirt were undone.
As tongues thrust and hands explored, she was vaguely aware of him unzipping her dress. She shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her in her panties, thigh-high stockings and the high heels she had worn with the dress.
Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: The Maverick's Thanksgiving BabyA Celebration ChristmasDr. Daddy's Perfect Christmas Page 36