Multicultural Holiday Romance Box Set

by Giselle Renarde

  “Well, if you didn’t write it and I didn’t write it, who did?” Keith’s mom asked. “Your seventy-three-year-old mother?”

  For a long moment, there was silence, and it wasn’t just at their table. The whole restaurant was listening in.

  “Oh…my…God…” Luc replied.

  Oh, please no!

  “There’s no way…” Amanda interrupted.

  “But let’s think about this…” Luc began.

  No, please, let’s not think about it!

  He said, “Remember, we were reading the email on the laptop at the kitchen table. Genevieve rang the doorbell and you let her in.”

  “Right...”

  “I folded the laptop closed and joined you two. When Gen left, we washed the dishes and went to bed. When we got up the next morning, mom was on the laptop, playing scrabble online. Remember?”

  “Oh, that’s true.”

  “I never closed that window. When she got up at five a.m. or whenever she wakes up in the morning, she would have opened the laptop and seen that sexy story.”

  Amira’s stomach churned like it was full of rancid meat.

  Keith’s mom shook her head. Her curls bounced against her face. “So, you’re telling me your mother would have read a fantasy addressed to our son, and then replied to a perfect stranger with a sexual fantasy written from the male point of view, pretending to be her own grandson? Give me a break!”

  “Well, she’s always encouraging Keith to get out there and date,” Luc reasoned. “Maybe she was just greasing the wheels, so to speak. I’m sure she meant no harm by it.”

  “There’s no way your mother wrote the fantasy I read. It was just so…” Keith’s mom paused to pick up a slice of bread. Instead of daintily dipping it into the plate of oil and balsamic, she set it on top of the glistening liquids and left it there to absorb. “Well, it was hot! It was you. You’re a man, you’re horny. It had to be you.” Seeming to forget Amira was still at the table, Amanda whispered, “Please, don’t tell me I was turned on by my mother-in-law!”

  “So was I!” Amira whined.

  “Well, mom is human,” Luc told his wife. “And she did teach women’s studies at the University, remember. Everybody knew her as quite the liberated woman, so she must know a thing or two.”

  How could Keith’s father take it all in stride? It was his mother they were talking about! The table went quiet. Amira sat silenced by her disbelief. What a nightmare this stupid day had become. Some New Year’s Eve! A perfect end to a crappy year.

  The insanity was interrupted by Anton’s arrival with their meals. “Your veal parmigiana, sir, and your fettuccini, ma’am,” he said, slipping the plates past Amira’s nose. The scent of Alfredo sauce made her stomach turn like a washing machine. Seeing it there on the table was enough to put Amira over the edge.

  “Can I get you anything, Amira?” Anton inquired.

  “Get me out of here!” she cried, stumbling toward the door.

  “It was nice meeting you,” Keith’s dad called to her as she left.

  Was it? Really? Because meeting Keith’s parents had been no Sunday at the beach for Amira. She felt like a big-time loser.

  Outside the restaurant, the cold winter air soothed her stomach. After pacing the sidewalk for a minute or two, she felt well enough to walk home, though she wished she’d worn more comfortable shoes for the journey. What was the point in looking good when Keith would never see her? Monstrous thoughts flew every which way. She tried not to reflect on the email she’d once cherished. Keith’s grandmother had written it? What kind of family raised him? And how cruel of Keith’s mother to get Amira’s hopes up by arranging the lunch meeting, only to set up her husband. Boy, did she look like a fool.

  Amira wandered the neighbourhood until her toes turned to ice, and then she considered heading home. She considered it, but she didn’t go. If she couldn’t feel her feet, she might as well keep walking. Her fingers started going numb, but that was par for the course in December. January would be even worse, if she lived that long. Maybe the stupid little New Year’s baby would kill her with his bow and arrow. Or was she confusing him with Cupid?

  When she finally arrived back on the doorstep to her basement apartment, Amira found she wasn’t the only one there. Looking at him from behind, all she could tell was that a bundled-up man was knocking at her door. She wasn’t expecting anybody. Maybe she ought to take another ice-cold stroll around the block.

  Just as she began to turn, so did the guy at her door. When she saw who it was, her heart bounded.

  “Keith!” she cried. Before remembering how embarrassed she should be, or even how bashful she usually was, she ran to throw her arms around him. Her brain was a little bit frozen too. All she could think to say was his name, “Keith!”

  Chapter Six

  In with the New Year

  Amira’s teeth chattered as Keith leaned back to look at her. Stripping off his winter gloves, he set his hand against her cheek. “You’re frozen solid,” he said. In his eyes, concern coupled with affection. “We need to get you out of the cold. Where are your keys?”

  She couldn’t move her hands to unzip her purse, so she let Keith take her bag from her shoulder. As he searched for her keys, it occurred to her what an intimate act it was for a man to look inside a woman’s purse. Maybe it was the fact that her brain was anaesthetized by the cold, but she felt completely comfortable watching him sort through her stuff.

  “It’s the one with the panda sticker,” she told him when he found her keys. He stuck it in the door and let her inside.

  “Do you have blankets?” he asked. “We need to warm you up.”

  A smile froze on her lips as she thought back to her fantasy of him. “They’re in the cedar chest,” she replied, leading him into her bedroom. All she could think to do was get under the covers until she defrosted.

  Kicking off his boots, Keith let his jacket fall to the floor as he tried to keep up with her. “Wait,” he cried.

  Amira sat on her bed. Falling to his knees, Keith unzipped her leather boots.

  “You don’t want to fill your sheets with salt and snow.” He pulled off the left boot and held her frozen toes in his warm hands. Taking off the other boot, he breathed warmth on her right foot until it started tingling. “Where did you say the blankets were?” he asked again.

  She couldn’t bear the idea of taking off her coat or her mittens yet, so she lifted herself into bed fully dressed. “In that chest down there.”

  A moment of recognition sparked in Keith’s eye. He smiled as he pulled out a broad sheet of fleece. “Just like in your story,” he said as he placed the fleece over her.

  Her heart raced as he went back for more blankets. “You read it?” she asked. Now she was confused, and it wasn’t just because her brain was a block of ice. “I thought...”

  “My grandma sent it to me to read this morning,” he clarified, wrapping a fuzzy blanket around her neck and shoulders. “She called me up to tell me to check my email up at the ski lodge. She told me over the phone not to reply, that she’d taken care of that already, and I was like, ‘Grandma, what the hell have you done?’ So, she told me what she’d done and I was like, ‘Grandma, I like this girl and now she’s going to think I’m a total perv....’”

  “You like me?” Amira cooed. She felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, but it was such a delight she didn’t care if she seemed juvenile.

  “Well, of course I do,” he replied, looking down at his feet. When he’d piled every blanket on her, he asked, “What else can I do? You’ll catch your death if we don’t get you warmed up.”

  All she wanted was for him to get in beside her, but she thought maybe it was premature to ask. “You could put on the kettle for tea, just like in your Grandmother’s story. The kitchen’s that way.”

  “Oh God,” he said, wandering into the kitchen. “I’m so sorry about that. I have no idea what she wrote to you.”

  “You don’t?”

&nbs
p; “No,” he said, poking his head back in the bedroom. “All she said was that it was as sexy as yours.”

  Amira laughed, though her cheeks were still somewhat frozen. “It was sexier!”

  Keith shook his head in shame. “I just can’t believe my grandma,” he said, heading back into the kitchen. As she listened to him search through her cupboards for mugs and tea bags, she thought how lovely it felt to have a man taking care of her. “As soon as she told me what she’d done, I hopped in the car and raced home from Gatineau. I wanted to get back before my family could do any more damage, but I hear from my mom that I didn’t make it in time.”

  A pang of guilt came over Amira. “Oh, that’s right. You were on a ski trip, and I interrupted it. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be silly!” he cried from the kitchen. “It’s not your fault. What do you take in your tea?”

  “Clear is good,” she replied. When he brought it to her, she gushed, “You are so sweet. Come sit here with me.”

  Placing his tea mug on her night table, he rested beside her on the bed, gazing down into her eyes. “I’m really sorry about all this. My family's a bunch of freaks. I can’t apologize enough for them. And the whole thing with my parents...God! That must have been so embarrassing.”

  When she took a sip of tea, she could feel its warmth rejuvenating her. It seemed to melt the ice inside her, and she smiled at Keith. “It was humiliating at the time, but now it just seems kind of funny. In the end, I got what I wanted. You’re here with me.” Upon reflection, she asked, “Hey, wait. How did you know where I lived?”

  “How did you get my email address?” he asked.

  Before realizing the question was rhetorical, she replied, “From you registration...oh...”

  He smiled. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  She shook her head. “You know, I think my lips have warmed up.”

  With a sweet chuckle, he leaned in and set his full, pink lips on hers. The feeling was so miraculous, she signed with pleasure. When he didn’t move away, she kissed him softly, letting her tongue mingle in his hot mouth.

  Just then, the sensation returned to her feet in sharp stabs. It hurt so badly she had to kick them against the mattress. Keith seemed to understand—anyone who’d ever been in the cold too long would have known just what was happening—so he pressed his hands against her feet under so many layers of blankets. She melted in more ways than one as he massaged them.

  “Oh Keith,” she sighed. “I never dreamed it would work out. Nothing ever works out for me.” Outside her window, the sun had already gone to bed. “Will you get in here, under the covers with me?”

  Gazing up at her, he teased, “Fresh!” He smacked her feet to get the blood flowing. “We barely know each other.”

  “I know you well enough. I know you’re the kind of guy who would drive two hours from Gatineau on New Year’s Eve just to clear up a misunderstanding,” she said, taking another quick sip of tea. “I know you’re cute and caring, and I feel really comfortable around you.”

  “Well, okay then,” he joked, as if she was twisting his arm. His smile was golden. “I’ll get under the covers with you, but no funny business just yet. I want to wait until next year.”

  She giggled as he slid in beside her. His body was warmer than all her blankets combined, but his presence made her all the more aware she still had on her winter coat. When he wrapped his arms around her, she sighed deeply. So did he. They'd barely touched, and already they were connected. There were still parts of her body she couldn’t quite feel, but Keith would take care of that.

  "I don't think I can wait until next year," she laughed, glancing at her bedside clock.

  "You can't wait six more hours?" His breath warmed her ear.

  "Not a chance," she replied, staring up at the window as she spoke. Her bedroom was getting dark. The only brightness from outside was the eerie blue glow of winter evening snow. She wove her fingers between Keith's. He folded his over hers. His skin felt so warm. "I've waited long enough. Don't make me wait until midnight. Don't make me wait at all." Running their hands down her body, she rested his palms on her thighs. "Please?"

  He put on a fake country accent. "Please do what? I'm just an innocent young college boy. I don't know much about the birds and the bees."

  Amira's jaw unfroze a little more each time she laughed. "Tell me you're joking."

  "I'm joking."

  "That's a relief," she chuckled. She pressed on his hands and he squeezed her thighs. His firm fingers made her body flutter. "Did you think about me all week like I thought about you?"

  His tone teased and tempted her. "That depends. How did you think about me?"

  "Sexily."

  He chuckled, running his hand up her side. His lips touched her hair. She could feel a slight pressure on the back of her head as they spooned. "In that case, yes."

  "What did you fantasize?" she asked. A shiver of excitement ran through her in anticipation of his response. She always did enjoy a good bedtime story.

  "Oh," he cooed, nuzzling into her scarf. Even through the thick veil of her hair, she could feel the brush of his stubble. Running his hands up the outside of her wool jacket, he squeezed her core. "I fantasized that my grandmother would call me at the ski lodge to tell me she'd sent a pornographic email to the girl I like."

  Pressing back against him, Amira tried very hard to keep a straight face. "What a strangely specific fantasy. Maybe you're psychic."

  "I'd never considered that. Maybe I am, because next I imagined I would race home to knock at your door. You'd turned into a snowman and I had to take you to bed and defrost you."

  "How did you do that?" she asked. She couldn't keep from smiling.

  "First I wrapped you in blankets," he said. He hugged her tight. "Then I snuck in behind you and wrapped my arms around your body."

  "That felt nice," Amira cut in. "Very nice."

  "I bet," he whispered. Cuddling in close, he said, "And I'm sure it felt even better when I set my hands on your breasts."

  No sooner had she encouraged, "Yes," than his palms cupped her tits. She gasped as his fingers pressed through the wool of her jacket. It was strangely gritty sensation, being felt up in her bed still dressed in all her winter gear.

  "Yes," she repeated to encourage more action. What did it matter that she was dressed in a bra, a top, a scarf, and a coat? Keith was in her bed. His hands were moving in circles across her breasts, pressing them together. Even through all those layers, the feeling was better than she could have imagined.

  Taking hold of his warm hand, Amira led it down across the buttons of her coat and pressed it against her desperate mound. "Did you think about this?"

  "What's this?" he asked, playing the innocent. "I've never played with one of these before." Curling his fingers over her skirt, he pressed their hot tips against her clit. She gasped at the sweet pleasure. Score one for Keith! Not every guy could find a clit in one go, particularly under three layers of clothing. For that, her boy deserved a bonus round.

  Struggling with her skirt, she heaved it up to her waist. Keith traced his fingers over her thick stockings. Shifting her hair away with his nose, he planting wet kisses along her jawline and across her cheek. The subtle itch of his stubble made her want him all the more. It made him seem manly, but in a fun and relaxed way that matched his skinny-but-strong arms. His body was hot. His kisses were hot. She needed to taste his mouth, so she whipped her head around. He wasted no time matching his velvet tongue to hers.

  Wrapping one arm around her front, he ran his hand across her jacket-clad chest as they kissed. His bolder hand grasped her pussy lips overtop of her tight winter stockings. They kept out the cold, but let his warmth deep inside. It wasn't until he squeezed her mound that she realized how wet she'd become.

  "Oh wow," Amira sighed, keeping her lips close to his. She didn't want him to get too far away. "That feels so good."

  Keith chuckled with mock-innocence. "Does it?"

 
; Her pussy screamed to feel his hot fingers in the flesh, but he insisted on rubbing over her tights. Not that she could complain. The way he stroked her clit got her incredibly hot. He was firm and sensitive, moving his fingers across her bud with sustained motion.

  Undressing was always a bold move, but with Keith she felt an uncommon sense of comfort and arousal. He was a sweet guy and she wanted to jump his bones. It was as simple as that. Could comfortable passion be sexy? Judging by the smoldering kiss he laid on her lips, it sure could!

  "Touch me," she pleaded.

  He paused, drawing away from her hungry mouth. A smirk broke across his lips. "I thought that's what I was doing," he said, wide-eyed. "Maybe I need a little more practice."