Catch You For Christmas (Bad Boys Book 7)

by Susan Arden

She grabbed the remote and turned on the television, flicking through the stations until she came to the old movie channel where frequently she caught American movies. Tonight, Miracle on 34th Street was on. Perfect. She’d watch holiday movies to get through the evening. Tomorrow would be another day, and things looked brighter in the morning. That’s what Mama always said.

  She rose and went into the small kitchen, and opened a bottle of wine. She heated some soup in the microwave and returned to the sofa, prepared to hunker down, pushing aside her worry that things could get worse. She’d survived this godforsaken day and all she had to do was get through tonight.

  * * *

  WITH A start, she awoke at the sound of banging on her door. She peeled open her eyes and stared at the darkness that enveloped her living room. Inside the apartment, it was virtually dark except for the burning embers in the fireplace and faint rays of light streaming through the blinds. The television was off and yet, she distinctly remembered falling asleep with it on. The banging on the door sounded again. She rose, pushing aside the throw, and stretching. Running her fingers over her face, she started for the front door, and ended up banging her toe against the leg of the table.

  Cursing under her breath, she took a step, and a jolt of pain shot up from her toe. “Shit, shit, shit,” she said, limping toward the door.

  Peering through the peephole, she couldn’t see out into the darkened hall. “Who’s there?” she asked, leaning against the door as she lifted her leg and rubbed her throbbing toe.

  “Jeanette. Are you okay?” Her neighbor, the daughter of the American Ambassador and an HEC Paris student, who she’d assumed had gone home for the holidays obviously hadn’t.

  She lowered her foot, unlatched the bolt, and swung her door open. “Practically speaking, I’m fine. What about you? I thought you were catching a plane.”

  “I was, except the weather turned ugly, and several flights were grounded. One of them was mine. Was yours?”

  “I missed my flight.” Cory gestured for her to come in as she limped backward. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “What happened to you?”

  “I kicked the table. Wine? It’s white and pretty good.”

  “Sure.” Jeanette closed the door and followed her inside the kitchenette.

  “Are you going to fly out later?” Cory asked, uncorking the bottle and pouring wine into a glass.

  “If I can. I didn’t stick around the airport after it turned into a madhouse. I came back and heard your television. The electricity just went out and I wondered what you were up to…so here I am.” Jeanette picked up the glass and followed Cory into the living room. “Soooo, what are you doing?”

  She plunked down, folding the throw, and making room for her neighbor. “Nothing…I was just…” She didn’t want to say she’d fallen asleep in front of the TV, but it was the truth and in her rumpled state, probably evident. “Watching a movie.”

  “We can go out. To the corner bistro.”

  Cory shook her head. “No. Today has been way too long.”

  “You work too hard. You’re in Paris. Live a little.”

  “I’m trying, but I’ve got to get up early. Tie up some loose ends.” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

  “Okay, but if you change your mind, call me.”

  “I probably won’t…” she stopped talking, and straightened. “May I borrow your phone? Mine broke and I’m desperate to call home. Let my fiancé know about what happened.”

  Jeanette laughed, as she pulled out her phone. “He doesn’t know you missed your flight? Oh, crap. I bet Brett is out of his head.”

  “Oh he knows, but then I dropped my cell, and haven’t talked to him since. Thanks,” she said, dialing his number.

  Her heartbeat clattered against her ribcage as she waited for her call to connect. His number clicked and she expected to hear him pick up, except he didn’t. His number went right to voice mail, and she blinked in confusion as her chest ached at the sound of his deep voice, saying his name and giving directions to leave a message. Brett not answer—that didn’t make sense. It was midnight in Paris—five p.m.in Dallas, and he was finished with practice. Morning session today. She knew his practice schedule like the back of her hand. He was supposed to be waiting for her call. Cells only went to voice mail when the phone was off…or he hadn’t accepted her call. Too stunned to talk, she opted to forego leaving a message. Her thoughts tumbled in her head.

  Slowly, she handed Jeanette’s cell back. “Thanks.”

  “He didn’t answer?”

  “No. He’s probably still involved at practice. The Devils are playing Sunday.”

  “Holy shit. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him and you. Crazy, I’d bet,” Jeanette said, sipping her drink.

  “You have no idea,” Cory replied.

  Jeanette downed the rest of her wine. “So come out with me. You can’t do anything around here. Just a little while.”

  “I still have to get up early. I think I’ll pass,” she murmured, grimacing. She could barely make out Jeanette’s expression in the dark. Maybe that was a good thing—she didn’t want to see anyone’s disappointment, if it was related to her. She’d had enough for one day.

  “Right. Then I’m taking off,” Jeanette said. “Don’t worry. I can see myself out.”

  “Hush. I’m not incapacitated.” She hobbled back to the door. “Merry Christmas. Are you going to be around for New Years?”

  “No. Not if I can help it. If I can snag a flight, I’ll be in New York until the third.”

  Cory hugged her neighbor. “Take it easy.”

  “You too. Hope you catch up with your fiancé. Good luck and Merry Christmas.”

  When she closed and locked her door, she wrapped her arms around her middle as she leaned against the door. Was Brett upset that she’d broken her promise? In actuality, she hadn’t since his directive was to call him when she had a ticket in hand. So far, she didn’t…not yet.

  Chapter 6

  THE CITY lights surrounding the Eiffel Tower flickered faintly. Brett drummed his fingers, looking out the window of the plush cabin. The jet circled around the airport as it had done for the last ten fucking minutes. They had another five and then they would be forced to fly to Heathrow and land there. The weather had cleared in London, but Paris was under an onslaught of ice and rain. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breath, and not on the fact that Cory hadn’t answered his email.

  “Just received confirmation from the LBG tower.” The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “We’re approved to land. I’ll set this bird down, and in fifteen minutes, we’ll be on the south side of the Le Bourget Airport. Mr. Castellano has a private car waiting on the tarmac, Mr. Gold.”

  For the first time in hours, Brett cracked a smile. “Great news. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. Buckle up. We’ll be descending within the next two minutes.”

  “I’m ready,” he replied. There were no flight attendants on board, not that he wanted any. He actually enjoyed having the cabin to himself without having someone hovering over him or watching his every move.

  Right on schedule, the jet taxied up to the hanger. The pilot met him at front of the cabin and extended his hand. “Call me when you’re ready to leave. I’ll arrange for your flight back to the States.” The pilot proffered a business card.

  “Thanks. Are you flying us back?”

  “No. Another pilot. One who has slept and is ready to go…unless you leave tomorrow. Then I’ll be on call. Remember, the latest you can leave is eleven p.m. L.A. time. That’s eight here.”

  “Right.” That gave him a full day in Paris to be with Cory. He shifted his carry-on strap on his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch. Happy holidays.”

  “Back at you.” The pilot opened the exit hatch and a sheet of icy rain pelted inside the cabin. The pilot adjusted his coat, peering upward. “The sky must’ve opened up. It sure as hell is
coming down.”

  Brett didn’t care if it were raining frogs. Without waiting further, he descended the stairs as clumps of snow and hail hit him in the face, sticking to his eyelashes, and freezing over the beard stubble on his jaw. Once he cleared the stairs, the dark car that was idling nearby inched forward. The car stopped and the driver’s door opened. A woman exited, holding up an umbrella, and came forward. She was dressed in a dark, fitted suit and wore a chauffeur’s cap.

  “Monsieur Gold?” she inquired, her words carried away by the wind. “Do you need help with your luggage?”

  “No, this is all I have,” he replied as he approached her. “How’s the weather in the city?”

  “It’s better than out here,” she answered him, her brows knitted as she held the umbrella between them. “Where would you like to go?”

  “152 Rue Royal,” he said, breaking cover from the umbrella. He strode to the passenger’s side, going for the backseat door.

  “About twenty minutes away at this time of the morning.” She tried to follow, holding up the umbrella.

  When she went to get his door, he said, “I can get the door. Just get me across Paris, and we’re good.”

  Nodding, she tipped her hat. “Oui, Monsieur.”

  He breathed out a sigh of relief once inside the car. The interior was warm and the privacy screen was in place. Rubbing his hands together, he felt the droplets frozen on his cheeks begin to melt and slide down his face, dripping onto his leather jacket. They pulled away from the hanger and the driver smoothly handled the car, speeding by the outbuildings on this side of the airport. In short order, they were past the Avenue du 8 Mas and up ahead, was the entrance onto the L'Autoroute du Nord.

  He rechecked his email and nothing. Not a goddamn word from Cory. He half watched the city unfold in rapid slices from the highway, clenching and unclenching his jaw. The driver had him across Paris, even though the streets were icy and the storm that had kept the jet circling was battering the city, bringing a deluge of frozen winter weather. The sun wasn’t visible through the thick wall of clouds, yet the first rays of dawn broke free at the horizon, forcing night to rise like a heavy shade.

  As the car pulled up to the curb just beyond the apartment building, he pressed the intercom. “Excuse me,” he began. “How can I call for your return?”

  “There are cards in the ashtray. I’ll be parked nearby. Mr. Castellano directed that you are free to call for the car at any time.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to leave but it won’t be before tomorrow, early evening. Merry Christmas.”

  “Joyeux Noël,” the driver said.

  He opened the car door and stood, hoisting his carry-on with him. Instead of making for the apartment lobby, he glanced down the sidewalk. He did a double-take, training his attention back to the figure at the end of the sidewalk. He focused on the solitary girl, and squinted. The street lamps cast a hazy glow that floated in the shimmering raindrops, sluicing down his jacket, cascading in rapid succession onto his jeans. As if by instinct, he turned to fully face the woman who held an umbrella, shielding her identify—but not from him.

  The way she rocked her hips and scissored her longer than hell legs hypnotized him. She wore snug, dark slacks, and a tight sweater that fell mid-thigh and clung to her curves. Her feet were tucked into cowboy boots—boots he’d surprised her with in April, right before he’d reported to spring training camp.

  She didn’t adjust her umbrella and that suited him. He enjoyed observing her covertly as she sashayed closer. The throbbing twinge that had kept him company, impaling him in his chest, imploded into full-blown ache, twisting with unspent lust and hunger. His cock twitched. He felt his senses heighten, his muscles tighten, his breathing shorten.

  He attuned to her as if he were at the line of scrimmage, preparing for a down to the wire blitz about to unfurl. This standoff was akin to blindsiding a player who’d react with firepower that he’d have to be prepared to deal with, without losing his head.

  Cory was no more than three yards in front of him when she shifted her umbrella. She looked up, her face partially hidden by shadows, but not her incredible sapphire eyes. Their gazes fused…locked and he felt the same kick in his head as when they’d first run into each other—literally in the airport at LAX. Palpable—unforgettable, and he clenched his jaw in how his carnal response flared to life in seeing this woman.

  His woman.

  Was she going to tell him to go take a hike? She held off speaking as did he. For an eternity, they both stalled in their tracks, her eyes glittery and her chin notched a little higher. She looked wildly beautiful in the rain. Mesmerizing and then she smiled, and he felt the zapping jolt of electricity—knew she might want to fight him—but she couldn’t hide the raw chemical attraction they both shared. A magnetic force field that kept them in their own private orbit, inescapable when they connected.

  “Sugar,” he said in low, deep hiss.

  The cup of coffee she held slid from her fingers, dropping in a flash to the sidewalk, and splattering upward but she didn’t flinch…didn’t do more than stare at him for a beat before her umbrella followed suit. Free of what she held in her hands, she sprinted across the slippery sidewalk, her strides eating up the distance as he opened his arms, catching her as she slid forward, right into his embrace.

  He hauled her lean body against him. Fuck if she didn’t feel perfect. With their chests pressed together, he absorbed the drumming of her heartbeat as he spun them around, kissing her in the freezing rain.

  “You came!” she said in a hoarse moan, pulling away less than a second before he recaptured her mouth, forcing apart her lips with a thrust of his tongue as she released a strangled sound of surrender. Snaking her arms around his neck, she opened to him as she threaded her fingers into his hair, speaking a language of love and lust, one that went through him like a wrecking ball.

  His cock hardened and he lifted her up, separating her thighs, needing to feel more of her. Cory wrapped her long legs around his hips, hooking her arm tighter around his neck. He walked forward until she was up against the brick building, using the wall to control her body as he nudged his hard-on into her softness, teasing him senseless. She locked her ankles and pressed herself over him, pouring her moans down his throat. He could taste her, smell her, feel her but it wasn’t enough. He drew his mouth across her cheek, lowering his lips to her jaw and roughly sucked her silky skin. Cory yanked handfuls of his hair, whimpering as he scraped his teeth down her neck.

  “Please,” she begged him. “More.”

  “I want to fuck you for hours. And I’m going to. Promise!” He pressed against her, seeking to find relief for his pulsing cock, using his lips as an outlet for his lust when he sucked a bruise into her skin.

  He returned to her mouth, kissing her deeper, pumping his hard-on against her pussy as he cupped her tits. Fuck, if they didn’t move this welcome home party upstairs, he’d either come in his jeans or do something that would get them arrested.

  Pushing off the building, he kissed her one last time before setting her down, right outside the lobby entrance.

  “Oh no! My umbrella.” She motioned to it as it was lifted upward and carried away by the wind.

  “It’s gone. Let’s go,” he ordered, opening the door, and pulling her inside.

  Soaking wet, they crossed the marble-floored entryway, and he nodded to the doorman who looked up from the morning paper. “Monsieur Gold, it’s so good to see you.”

  “Morning Claude. It’s unbelievably great to be back,” he replied, his voice coming out gravelly. Not helping when Cory’s low laugh teased his ears.

  The doorman scurried across the lobby and opened the brass door of the antique elevator. “Thanks,” both he and Cory said in unison.

  “Enjoy your day,” Claude replied, pressing the penthouse button. “The weather should clear by this afternoon.”

  When the elevator rose, wor
dlessly he came at her again. Planting his hands on either side of her head, he rubbed his jaw along her cheek, stopping at her ear. “You’re mine. Do you understand the concept?”

  “Yes.” Her one-word reply came out husky.

  Partially lowering the zipper on her coat, he slid his hand down over her tits, feeding his out of control need to own every part of her. “Show me,” he commanded her.

  Cory pushed forward, her body trembling as he squeezed her breasts, thrumming her erect nipples with his thumbs. She unhooked her fingers from his belt loops. Biting her lip, she moved her hands to her chest, frantically unzipping her coat the rest of the way. With shaky hands, she pulled apart her coat, fully displaying her soft cream-colored sweater. She began unbuttoning it, popping a few of the buttons in her hasty execution of disrobing for him.

  She wore a silky undergarment, accentuating her lacy bra underneath…imprisoning her amazing breasts. Her nipples were diamond-points, darting the sheer material—exquisitely tormenting him. He wasn’t about to wait a second longer to access her body. Grasping the thin material in his hands, he tore it down the front, pushing aside the cups of her bra, and exposing her gorgeously framed tits and her tight nipples that he hungered to suck into his mouth.

  “I’m going to first spank you,” he said in a voice so low and deep, saturated with dark lust, he almost couldn’t speak. “Then I’m going to fuck you.”

  Chapter 7

  BRETT PUSHED aside her bra, and when he bared her breasts, the heat in his eyes sent a jolt of fire spiraling into her belly, crashing between her legs, and shredding any and all doubts, the man was completely serious about possessing her.

  He’d arrived in a privately driven car, not his usual his style, and stood silently waiting for her. She’d braved the icy rain to get a cup of something hot, worried that the electricity would continue to be intermittent with the flashing lightning in the sky and cracks of thunder getting nearer and nearer. With no cell…no internet access, she’d lacked a way to contact Brett. Christmas Eve dawned and she’d never felt so alone.