“He’s like a little kid. You should see him Christmas morning.” Dylan rolled his eyes, but he was grinning.
A happy squeal came from the house. “You’re here!”
Francie and Dylan looked up to see his mom silhouetted in the open front door, the light spilling out onto the lengthening shadows of the porch and yard.
Lola ran down the steps and threw her arms around Dylan, holding him tight like she hadn’t seen him in twenty years rather than just less than one, tears streaming down her face. Her multi-colored scarf around her head was the only outward clue to her illness.
Dylan shot Francie a one-eyebrowed grin over his mom’s shoulder. Lola pulled away to inspect him up and down, patting his shoulders and arms, then cupped his face and held it just inches from her own. “You’re home. And in one piece. Praise Jesus.” She peered up at the darkening sky and nodded her head.
Francie blinked back tears. She should have welcomed him home like that. It’s how she felt inside, but what she couldn’t let show.
Finally, Lola pulled away, swiped at her wet eyes with the back of her hand, and turned to Francie. “Francesca,” she said, her voice still quivering. She always used her full name. “You look pretty as ever.” She held out her arms and Francie walked into them. “You must be so happy your man is home safe and sound.”
“I am.” Francie smiled. She’d had a similar reaction when Dylan had called her from Germany, his first stop after leaving Afghanistan: He’s safe, he’s safe, he’s safe. At last.
Lola peered down at the girls. Macy hid behind Francie’s legs, of course. “Oh, my goodness. Look at you both. You’re so big. Last time I saw you, you were just babies.” She shot a quick look at Francie.
Francie’s face heated up. The last time she saw them, Lola had gone on and on about how Dylan needed to marry her. He needed to do the right thing by his children. Francie felt so guilty, feeling like she was lying because his folks had no idea they were married, that she’d only seen them once in the time Dylan was overseas.
Lola squatted down to the girls’ level. “You Gamma?” Molly asked, looking up, big brown eyes wide. At Lola’s nod, Molly jabbered about all the pretty lights, and Santa, and snow.
Macy peeked out from behind Francie’s legs. Her little face looked interested in Lola, the lady with the Christmas house.
Dylan rested his hand on Lola’s shoulder. “Macy’s a little shy. She hasn’t warmed up to me yet, either.”
“Yes, but you’re a big scary intimidating man. I’m an old squishy grandma.”
He laughed. “‘Old’ and ‘squishy’ aren’t words I’d ever use to describe you, Ma.” Nor would Francie describe Lola that way. Firecracker, maybe. Attractive and Energizer Bunny-like, perhaps. Up close like this, she could see Lola had lost her eyebrows and lashes, and her skin was perhaps a bit paler than she remembered, but it was also winter time in Idaho. Everyone looked pale this time of year.
“You look good,” Dylan said. “Are you feeling—?”
Before Lola could answer, Dylan’s stepdad, Pete, stepped onto the porch and came down the steps. Macy hugged Francie’s legs even tighter. Dylan held out his hand, but Pete pulled him into a bear hug, slapping him on the back like men do. “Good to have you home.” Love and pride shone in Pete’s eyes.
“Good to be home,” Dylan said. He glanced through the doorway and into the house. “Where is everyone? And I can’t believe the dogs aren’t out here to greet us.”
“Dogs are on the back deck,” Pete said. “So they don’t knock the kids over in their excitement.”
“We didn’t expect you here quite so early.” Lola looked at her watch. “Nick is picking up Katie Jo—she’s just finishing her shift at Santa’s Workshop, and Brianna is over at, er, she’s at a friend’s. I’ll call her and let her know you’re here.” She beamed. “Everyone’s going to be so happy to see you. You’re all they’ve talked about for days.” She threw her arms around him again and started crying. “I’m so glad you’re here. All of you.”
Tears blurred Francie’s eyes as she watched the interaction between Dylan and his mom, and had to turn away before she started crying, too. Macy kept trying to tug her back to the car, so she picked her up and buried her face in her daughter’s hair, breathing in the comforting smell.
Francie’s mom had loved Christmas—it was her favorite holiday. She’d been like Pete, going all out and maybe a bit over the top to decorate. Maybe that’s why Francie didn’t do much decorating any more. Because everything reminded her too much of what she had lost, and what she no longer had: a family.
“Merry Christmas, Francie.”
Francie lifted her head at Pete’s voice. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes and smiled at him and hugged him.
Macy tugged on her sweater. “Go home,” she whispered in Francie’s ear.
Francie kissed her on the cheek. “This is your Grandpa Pete. We’re going to stay with him and Grandma for a few days.”
Macy’s bottom lip quivered. “Go home,” she said again, her voice getting a little louder. Oh, great. Not a good time for a toddler tantrum, not that any time was a good time.
Pete dipped his head and met Macy’s eyes. “Hi Macy. I was hoping you could help me feed the doggies. They’re really hungry.”
Macy’s eyes widened. “Doggies?” To Francie’s amazement, Macy held out her arms to Pete. Wow. That never happened.
“Let’s go inside where it’s warmer,” Lola said, holding onto Molly’s hand and following Pete and Macy up the steps into the house.
“We’ll get our bags and be right in,” Dylan said. He turned to Francie. “I can’t believe Macy took to Pete like—” His eyes narrowed. “You okay?”
She took in a long breath then nodded. “Yeah. Your parents are great. And your mom looks really good.”
“But you’re thinking about your own mom, aren’t you?”
She blinked her eyes, surprised he’d picked up on that. “I think about her all the time, but this time of year is particularly hard,” she whispered. It was the first Christmas without her. “Your mom—” Her voice cut off on the edge of a sob. She couldn’t complete the thought.
He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “My mom is going to be fine,” he said, reading her mind. His voice was firm, like he really believed his words. He kissed her on the temple, his breath warm against her skin. “Did you see how happy she was to see us? This means so much to her that all of us are here.”
Guilt over their lie washed over her, and Francie told herself not to worry about that right now, while at the same time trying to ignore all the inappropriate tingles shooting through certain inappropriate parts of her body from being in Dylan’s arms.
“It means a lot to me, too.” He pulled back and peered down into her eyes. His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Thank you,” he murmured, then he gently cupped her cheek and kissed her.
She didn’t want to kiss him back, because she knew what kissing Dylan always led to, and she just couldn’t allow that to happen no matter how much she wanted it, but when his tongue danced along the seam of her mouth, she couldn’t resist parting her lips for him. He angled his head and deepened the kiss, his primal growl against her mouth turning her on even more. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, and she was torn between totally giving in to the kiss she wanted so desperately, and pushing him away.
“Hey, you lovebirds.” Lola’s amused voice from the porch whipped both their heads around. Her smile was wide and delighted. “Grab your things and I’ll show you where you’re all sleeping.”
How long had her mother-in-law been standing there? Francie stepped out of Dylan’s arms, realizing his concern and kiss were just for show. Well, the concern was real, but the kiss? Definitely for his mom’s benefit. That was okay. Francie got it. She knew what she was getting into when she’d agreed to this charade.
And it wasn’t like kissing Dylan was a chore or anything. She just couldn’t forget it was all pretend. Becau
se it would be so easy to get caught up in this act, which would make the fall that much more painful. She had no self-control around him. None whatsoever. Never had. It had always been like that. From the very beginning. Thus the twins.
Dylan opened the back hatch of the CRV and handed her the girls’ bag, and he grabbed the larger ones. All the gifts—hidden inside black garbage bags—would stay out here in the car until Santa arrived.
Delicious smells of freshly-baked goodies greeted them as they stepped into the warmth of the house. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the back of the property toward the lake. On the opposite wall was a huge river rock fireplace with a nice fire going, and everywhere Francie looked was knotty pine—walls, stairway, doors. It was gorgeous, welcoming and very homey. Francie glanced around for the girls.
Lola noticed. “Don’t worry. The kids are with Pete on the back deck with the dogs. I’m sure they’re getting lots of doggie hugs and kisses.” She winked and headed up the stairs, motioning for them to follow.
“Nice ass,” Dylan muttered, bringing up the rear behind Francie.
“Thanks, honey,” Lola quipped. “I’ve been working out.”
Francie couldn’t help laughing. She loved his mom.
* * * *
“We’d planned to put you all in the same room,” Lola explained, “but Pete reminded me that you two are still newlyweds and haven’t had any time to yourselves since Dylan got home. And from the way you couldn’t keep your hands off each other outside just now,” she grinned, “I think we made the right call.”
Francie wasn’t sure if it was panic or excitement that raced through her veins at the thought of sharing a room—not to mention a bed!—with her husband. When she’d agreed to come here with him, she’d just assumed they all—her, Dylan and the girls—would sleep in the same room. Leaving no chance of naked Dylan, naked Dylan, naked Dylan.
Well, shit. She was thinking of him naked again.
“Katie Jo said she’ll bunk with Brianna for the next couple of nights, so the girls will sleep in her room,” Lola told them, opening up the door to a typical teenage girl’s room with posters of current heartthrobs all over the brightly-painted walls. “We scooted the bed into the corner and put a railing on this side so they can’t roll out. I figure the girls won’t mind sleeping together?”
Francie told her they wouldn’t.
After they’d set the girls’ suitcase next to their bed, Lola said, “You two will be staying in your old room, Dylan.” She hugged him again. “I keep needing to hug you to make sure you’re really here and I’m not dreaming.” She touched Francie’s arm, smiled, then headed down the stairs.
Francie’s belly clenched as she followed Dylan into his old room. The walls were gray blue and it was still decorated like a teenage boy’s room with sports memorabilia and a few trophies on the shelves. But it wasn’t the snapshot into his childhood that captured her attention right now. It was the full bed sitting against the far wall. Full. Not queen. Which meant their bodies would be touching all night long. Dylan was a big man, she wasn’t a small woman. Oh, shit.
Dylan grinned. “Looks cozy,” he said, chuckling. “But what are the chances of the girls staying in their room all night?”
She couldn’t help laughing with him, which eased the tension a bit. “Slim to none, I’m afraid.”
“Then we should take advantage of our time alone right now,” he said. Before she realized what he meant, he’d backed her up until her calves touched the mattress. He pushed her onto it.
“Dylan…”
He covered her body with his own, his knee pressing her thighs apart as his mouth clamped onto hers. After her initial shock wore off, every nerve ending in her body caught fire and she arched up into his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands found their way under her sweater, and he kneaded her breasts through her bra as his tongue ravaged her mouth.
Molly’s delighted squeal from downstairs broke the spell, and Francie pressed her hands against his chest. “I can’t do this.”
“You totally can. And you’re very good at it.”
Her insides clenched at his sexy tone and she shook her head. “We’re just pretending this weekend, remember?” she whispered.
He rubbed his knee against her core. She sucked in a breath. “Does that feel pretend to you?”
“Dylan, please.”
“Please, what? Please do more of this?” His hand replaced his knee and he cupped her between the legs, pressing his palm into the seam of her jeans, right over her clit.
Pleasure shot through her, and her hips writhed into the mattress. His hand kept up the pressure, moving it slowly back and forth and around and around over her most sensitive spot. “I want you to pretend to come for me.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
She moaned when his hand found the perfect rhythm. “The door…is…open,” she gasped, her toes curling in her socks.
“Then you’d better not scream when you come,” he said, looking down at her. His eyes were dark with his own desire.
“Dylan…” She couldn’t stop her body’s reaction to him. She’d never been able to.
“Come for me,” he whispered, watching her.
“Dylan…”
He pinched her nipple between his fingers.
That did it. “Aah—” The orgasm exploded through her and her hips bucked into his hand. He covered her scream with his mouth and kissed her until the waves abated.
Her body melted into the mattress and she eventually opened her eyes to find him peering down at her. She couldn’t help grinning. “For a pretend orgasm, that felt pretty damn real.”
He hauled her to her feet. Her legs were a bit rubbery, so she held on to his hand a few moments to steady herself. “That good, huh?” he asked.
“Big ego much?” She raised a brow.
“That’s not all that’s big,” he quipped.
She rolled her eyes, even though he spoke the truth.
“You owe me at least two orgasms now,” he told her.
“You’re seriously keeping score?”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “Uh, yeah.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “How do you figure two? One I can see.” She nodded to the bed where the comforter still held the indentation from her body.
He held up a finger. “That one, of course. And the other from last night when we were interrupted.”
“Not my fault the girls missed their daddy.”
A happy grin lit his face, before the sexy look returned. “Two orgasms,” he said again.
“Then, using your logic, you owe me another one, too.”
His grin was wicked. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Desire licked between her legs at the thought. Then she shook her head. “Wait. No. Gah! How do you do this? I didn’t plan on sleeping with you at all this weekend.”
“Oh, you can’t resist me and you know it.”
She hated that he was right. “Dylan, I’m serious.” She glanced toward the open door to make sure they were still alone. “Our relationship is… awkward, for lack of better word. I know we have no choice to sleep together in that small bed, but—”
“Who said anything about sleeping?” His white teeth flashed in his tanned face.
She slapped him on the arm. “Can you please be serious for a moment?”
His smile disappeared. “Sorry.”
“You’re ready to be serious?”
He nodded. “I’m ready to be serious. Because I’m seriously dying to strip you naked and bury myself between your sweet legs.”
Her eyes widened and she couldn’t help laughing, even though he was really, really annoying right now. And even though his words and that image made her seriously horny. This teasing and funny Dylan was the man she’d first fallen in love with, the way he was before she’d gotten pregnant and reality had hit them like a slap in the face.
She blew a frustrated sound through
her teeth. “Well, maybe I don’t want you between my ‘sweet legs.’” Even though she really, really did. “Maybe I’ll just say ‘no.’”
His brows lifted. “Right. Like that’s gonna happen.”
“Wanna bet?”
Dammit. Why’d she say that? She knew Dylan couldn’t resist a dare or a bet. That’s what got her into trouble with him in the first place.
“Absolutely,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I bet you by midnight tomorrow night—Christmas Eve—that you’ll no longer be able to keep your hands off me, and you’ll be begging me for sex. And being the gentleman that I am, I will comply with penile penetration. At least once.” He flashed his cocky grin that always made her knees go weak, because she knew exactly what it meant. “If not more.”
A giggle burst from her lips. “Penile penetration?”
He cocked his head. “Yes. You know—screwing?”
Francie’s face burned. “I know what you meant. Dick.”
“Yes, I’ll be using that for the penile penetration. Would you like to see it?” He unbuttoned his fly and made to reach inside his pants.
She grabbed his hand to stop him, laughing, and she glanced at the door again. His parents were probably wondering what was taking them so long. No, actually, they probably assumed they were doing exactly what they were talking about doing.
She cleared her throat. “Okay, but some ground rules. You can’t sleep naked like you usually do.” That would be a little too much temptation.
He thought about it and shrugged. “I’m naked beneath my clothes, but okay.”
Damn him. “And you need to keep your hands to yourself. No reaching over in the middle of the night to cop a feel.” Because once he touched her, she’d be a goner. She knew it, and by his sly expression, he knew it, too.
“I won’t stipulate the same with you. At any time during the night—or day, for that matter—if you want to reach over and put your hands down my pants, you just go right ahead.”
Francie’s hands—and other parts of her body—actually tingled at the thought.
She might want to touch him, but she would resist. Piece of cake. Just as she resisted eating real pieces of cake. Not on her eating plan, so she didn’t imbibe. Very often. She shoved the memory aside of the yummy piece of German chocolate cake she’d had at a friend’s birthday party last weekend. And how she’d practically licked the leftover frosting off the plate.
Romancing the Holidays: Twelve Christmas Romances - Benefits Breast Cancer Research Page 37