Man Under the Mistletoe

by Debra Carroll

  Something bumped against the dock and she opened her eyes to see Michael stepping out of the caretaker’s boat, followed by Anya. For a moment she could only stare in disbelief.

  She must have fallen asleep. She must be dreaming. He was supposed to be five thousand miles away, not standing here in a well-worn pair of jeans and a red plaid shirt, helping Anya out of the boat after him. Sabrina jerked upright in the lounge chair and stumbled to her feet. It was impossible, but he was here.

  “What the hell...”

  She turned at the sound of Colin’s exclamation to see him standing behind her with his mouth hanging open, holding a tray with two glasses of lemonade.

  Michael could barely restrain the urge to burst out laughing at the ludicrous expression on his son’s face. With an effort he kept this voice casual and scooped up one of the frosty glasses.

  “Why, Colin, how very thoughtful of you.” He drank off the lemonade in one long grateful swallow.

  An overnight transatlantic flight followed almost immediately by a three-hour drive had left him in need of some reviving. He set the glass back down on the tray.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Colin finally found his voice and gave him a furious glare.

  “I had a ton of work to do, but I decided I needed a rest. I brought Anya along so we could both have a little working holiday.”

  Without another word, Colin turned and ran heavily back up the steps.

  Anya frowned in concern as she watched the boy go, then turned to Sabrina with a speaking look that made him smile. He’d have to make sure they had the opportunity for some private girl talk, because Anya wouldn’t be satisfied until she had every gory detail. Then she turned to him. “I’m going to go change into something cooler.”

  In her twill trousers and heavy sweater, Anya’s cheeks were pink and her forehead already beaded with sweat in the afternoon sun. Carrying her small case, she followed Colin on up to the house.

  Finally he could turn his attention to Sabrina. His exhaustion vanished in an instant.

  After those endless, unbearable three weeks apart, all he wanted was to take her into his arms and kiss her, carry her on up to the house and make love to her, slowly and sweetly until the ache of missing her was assuaged. If there were some way to get rid of Colin and Anya, he’d do it, and to hell with the consequences.

  “How did you know we were here?” She sounded breathless and her eyes widened in desperation as if she wanted to escape. A shocking sense of hurt tore through him.

  “Anya told me where you were. My housekeeper told me Colin had gone away for the weekend. I put two and two together and took a chance you’d both be here—”

  “It’s not what you think,” she cut in anxiously.

  He stepped closer, needing to be near her. “What I think is that my son is madly infatuated with you and I can’t blame him because so am I,” he finished in a murmur, as he looked down into her startled eyes.

  Her lips were so close, so tempting. He need only bend his head a little.... Just the memory of that lush mouth softly yielding against his own, those lips parting in urgent response, made every muscle in his body tighten with desire.

  The hunger must have been betrayed in his face. She swiftly braced one hand on his chest and he could feel her trembling. “Please, Michael.”

  After a second’s hesitation, he sighed and stepped back. She let out a long, unsteady breath.

  “How’ve you been?” he asked.

  She could hear the iron control tightening his voice and said hurriedly, “Really busy. The parade’s heating up. It’ll be crazy when I get back.” After blurting out the nervous, stilted words, she had to turn away.

  He reached out and put a hand under her chin, slowly turning her face toward him. His expression was gentle, his mouth curved in a small smile. “I don’t care about the work. I meant, how have you been?”

  “Fine.” Missing you. But to admit it to him would be madness. “So what do you plan on doing, Michael?”

  His smile widened, carefree and boyish, and her heart flipped over. “Why, have a holiday, of course. I think we all deserve a break, don’t you?”

  She stepped away from him and shook her head. “I was planning on going back tomorrow.”

  “There’s no need now. I even brought Anya up here.”

  He seemed to understand everything—all her doubts and fears. “Well...” She hesitated, tempted just to be with him, crazy and dangerous as that might be, when the slightest look, the merest touch was all it took to set raw desire burning between them.

  “Then it’s settled.” Silence fell for a moment, then he asked, “Did you miss me?”

  She took a deep shuddering breath. There was no point in lying. He could read the truth in her face all too easily. “Yes.” Looking up, she saw a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

  “Good. It’s a start.”

  He was very close to her now. So close she could feel the passion and need burning in him.

  “It’s dangerous...”

  He took her hand and placed it on his chest. Under her flattened palm, beneath the soft flannel shirt, his heart hammered, fast and strong.

  “Don’t talk to me about danger, Sabrina.” His voice was soft and husky above her. “Can’t you feel what you do to me? And that’s only part of it. Do you need more evidence?”

  The blood was singing in her ears as he moved even nearer, until his hips pressed so close, she could feel the contours of his body through their clothing, feel him hard and aroused against her stomach.

  “Hey, Sabrina, wanna go fishing?” Colin’s voice sounded behind him.

  “Damn!” Michael sucked in his breath in a frustrated groan, then stepped around her and walked toward the end of the dock.

  Breathless and shuddering, Sabrina moved automatically to intercept Colin, who was coming toward them carrying a couple of fishing rods and a small cardboard carton.

  “Sure, sounds like fun,” she answered automatically, her heart pounding a crazy tattoo against her ribs, her awareness still focused acutely on Michael.

  “Would you like me to bait your hook for you?” Colin had thrust a rod into her hand and sat down on the edge of the dock. She had to force her attention back to his smiling face.

  “No, thanks, I can manage.” Her voice wavered, but she produced a sick grin, trying to rein in the wave upon wave of trembling arousal that weakened her knees and made her breasts feel swollen and tight. Trying to repress the deep unsatisfied ache that only the man a few tormenting feet away could soothe.

  She had no illusions. If Colin hadn’t been here, at this moment they would have been locked together, flesh on flesh, Michael buried deep within her, where she wanted him to be. She would be telling him how much she loved him in the most honest, elemental way, without words.

  On shaky legs she sank down onto the dock beside Colin and reached into the carton between them for a fat, writhing worm.

  “Are you sure? I know girls aren’t very good at this sort of thing.”

  “Listen here, my young friend.” Trying to regain her equilibrium, she adopted a teasing, admonitory tone and waved the worm in front of his face. “If you don’t want me to use you for bait, you’d better not come out with any more comments like that again.”

  Michael gave a dry chuckle behind her that sent a little shudder up her spine. “I’d listen to her, son. I think she means it.”

  “You don’t have to tell me what she means. I’ve known her longer than you have,” Colin muttered sullenly under his breath.

  “Yes, you have.”

  Something about the warm abstraction in Michael’s voice made her turn to look at him. He had seated himself on the weather-beaten boards, one knee drawn up, and the warm light in his eyes took her breath away.

  Pain shot through her finger. “Ouch!” she muttered under her breath. She’d gone and stabbed herself with the hook because she wasn’t paying attention. She turned her gaze to her task. Looking at him was
dangerous.

  “Hey, that’s pretty good. Where did you learn to do that?” Colin’s voice held surprised admiration as he examined her baited hook.

  She laughed at his amazement. “My parents run a fishing resort. I’ve been baiting hooks since I was old enough to climb into a canoe. I’m not just another pretty face, you know.”

  “I know that, Sabrina.” Colin’s meaningful tone wasn’t lost on her, and she couldn’t prevent herself from glancing at Michael.

  His gaze held hers for one intense moment, then turned to his son. “It looks like you could use a little help yourself with that worm.” The lazy drawl gave no hint of the tension in his eyes a moment before.

  “What do you know about fishing?”

  “Quite a lot actually,” Michael said evenly, ignoring the customary antagonism.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stand up and walk behind her to crouch beside his son. “May I?” He took Colin’s hook in hand and expertly began to weave the worm on to it. “I spent a lot of summers here when I was a boy. There was nothing else to do but fish.”

  “That’s funny. Grandma never brought me here. She couldn’t stand the place.”

  “She never brought me here, either. She sent me with my nanny. There you go.” He handed the line back to Colin who accepted it awkwardly.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, resentful and confused.

  “You’re welcome.” Michael’s voice held a note of wistfulness that clutched at her heart. There was dark pain in his face as he looked at his son. Colin turned stubbornly away.

  “Is anyone else hungry?”

  Sabrina looked up to see Anya coming down the steps to the dock.

  “I’m starved.” Michael sounded brisk and unruffled. “Why don’t I go inside and see what I can throw together?”

  “I’ll help.” Anya smiled at him.

  Sabrina jumped to her feet. “Better still, why don’t I help Anya with lunch and you stay and fish with my rod?” She glanced at Michael and trembled inwardly at the warmth, the admiration and desire she saw in his face. “I’ve had too much sun.”

  He turned to Colin. “Would you mind if I fished with you?”

  His son shrugged, his attention on the line where it disappeared into the water. “It’s a free country—you can do whatever you want.”

  Michael took a seat beside him, with a quick glance back to Sabrina. She smiled her encouragement, then turned away.

  “I know a great spot to fish but we can only get there by canoe. Would you like me to show it to you?”

  Behind her, Michael’s voice was so casual, it almost fooled her, but she knew the tension with which he’d be awaiting Colin’s answer.

  “If you want to” came the offhand reply.

  “Let’s go, then. We’re going to need more bait...”

  Their voices faded as she and Anya gained the house.

  “That was a cute little trick, but I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for a miracle.” Anya cocked one ginger eyebrow as she held the screen door open for her to pass through.

  “Don’t I know it.” Sabrina heaved a huge sigh.

  “Don’t lose heart,” Anya replied. “These things take time. At least it’s a start.”

  Through the kitchen window Sabrina watched a red canoe nosing out of the boathouse and then gliding away, Michael paddling with impressive expertise.

  * * *

  PERHAPS MIRACLES DID happen after all. That evening at dinner, Colin was more relaxed and exuberant in his father’s company than she had ever seen him before. They seemed to be reaching out to each other, even if their progress was halting and tentative.

  And it continued the next day. She watched them fishing together off the dock, watched Colin’s absorbed fascination as Michael expertly cleaned and filleted the fish, then built a fire on the beach to cook it. Her heart soared with hope. Maybe this really could be a new beginning for them.

  If only she hadn’t been so conscious of the expression in Michael’s eyes whenever he looked at her. That intense and bittersweet despair. As if his happiness at Colin’s coming around was tainted by disappointment over her. Ever since that moment of near insanity on the dock, she’d taken pains never to be alone with him and she could tell he had been hurt by her avoidance.

  It was almost midnight when she got out of bed and leaned her elbows on the sill of her bedroom window. Sleep was eluding her completely. She gazed up at the moon, sailing high in a sky of ragged silver clouds, and with a shiver of yearning, she felt the soft night air whisper over her bare arms.

  Far below, a movement caught her eye, a pale gleam against the dark trees. Then she saw him clearly—a tall, lean figure walking down over the rocks toward the little beach. Her heart skipped a beat, then began to race. Michael.

  In one swift movement she turned back into the room, pulled off her nightdress and reached for her jeans and sweatshirt. She was crazy. She’d probably live to regret this. But so what?

  As she stepped quietly out the front door, the haunting call of the loon came echoing across the darkened water. Every tiny hair on her arms stood on end. Such a lonely sound. As lonely as she felt. She couldn’t bear to spend one more second away from him.

  The clouds had thickened, making it hard to see her way. A soft breeze whispered through the pines and rustled the dry birch leaves as she moved carefully down the smooth rocks toward the shore. Suddenly the moon came out again from behind the clouds and she could see him down on the beach. He sat on a piece of driftwood, leaning his elbows on his knees as he looked out at the calm water.

  All she could hear was the soft slap of the waves and the hiss of the sand tugging at her feet, slowing her steps as she hurried toward him. Still, and waiting in the moonlight, he turned his head to watch her approach.

  At last she stood in front of him, gasping slightly and out of breath, but he remained like a statue, his head turned up to her, waiting.

  “All along I’ve felt that we would only end up unhappy, and hurting each other and maybe that’s true, but I’m miserable without you. So if I’m going to be unhappy, I’d rather be unhappy with you. I need you, Michael.” The last words came out in a broken sob; then he was on his feet and reaching for her. His arms came around her so tightly, she could hardly breathe.

  She could hear the laughter in his voice. “My darling, we’re going to be two of the happiest people alive.” And when he kissed her she felt his exuberance, his triumph, and responded with an urgent thrill of abandon. Finally he drew back a fraction, his breathing heavy. “Let’s go back to the house,” he said unsteadily.

  “No. There are too many people there.” She smiled, deliberately slow and seductive. “I want you to make love to me under the stars, Michael.”

  An answering smile formed on his lips. In the bright moonlight she could see the gleam of desire in his eyes as he swung her up into his arms. “You asked for it. And you’re going to get it.”

  “Promises, promises.” She laughed softly and her breasts tingled in delicious anticipation of his threat as he carried her back from the beach, in among the trees, to a small clearing that shimmered in the silvery light. Hidden away from the world, the scene had an unearthly beauty, but then his warm lips met hers again and the world was forgotten.

  She clung tightly, arching her body toward his, her arms around his neck, never breaking contact as he slowly lowered her to the ground, until she could feel the soft cushiony moss beneath her shoulders.

  He knelt beside her and looked at her lying there, stretched out in the dappled shade, abandoned and primitive, her eyes filled with languid sensuality.

  “Through all these endless waiting weeks you’ve been with me constantly. Did you know that?” he murmured.

  A great surge of hunger went through him and he slowly pushed up her sweatshirt, then caught his breath on a gasp as the silver light shaded the curves of her small bare breasts. He leaned closer. The very scent of her flesh was so pure and sweet, so heady, it made him weak
with desire.

  “In my thoughts, in my dreams.” With a trembling finger he traced the line of her rib cage, her skin so smooth and soft. Could anything feel softer? “Tormenting me.”

  Then he slowly circled the fingertip around one nipple, fascinated as it tightened under his touch.

  “Oh, Michael,” she breathed, her luscious lips parting slightly with little panting sighs as his hands drifted over her ribs, his thumbs brushing the taut peaks of her breasts.

  “You’re beautiful. I need to make love with you again, Sabrina.”

  “Well, then, what are you waiting for, you big dope?” But her voice was a lazily sensual invitation and she arched toward him with a small smile.

  Red-hot hunger tore through him. He wanted to possess her, to slowly and thoroughly discover her, enjoying every heavenly minute. That kind of bliss could make up for a lifetime of frustrated waiting.

  “I never knew that making love could be like this. I’m overwhelmed—my heart is pounding so hard, I’m afraid it’ll stop beating. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before....”

  “I can’t believe it.”

  He could see the doubt in her pale face. “Believe it,” he said fervently. “No one’s ever made me feel this way. No one’s ever loved me the way you do. I want you to feel the same.”

  With agonizing restraint he slowly lowered his head to take one tightly budded nipple into his mouth. But as soon as his lips touched her soft fragrant skin, she let out a little sigh of pleasure and contentment. “Oh, don’t stop.”

  It almost sent him over the edge. “I’ve only just begun,” he groaned against her burning flesh.

  Sabrina closed her eyes, giving herself over to the ecstasy he could create with just the simple touch of his mouth. The silky friction of his tongue, twirling and suckling on the nipple, greedy and a little rough, sent pleasure pulsing through her, intensifying the sweet, aching pressure between her thighs.

  “Michael?” She cupped his face, raised it to look up at her. In one motion she deliberately grazed her breast against his rough cheek, and caught her breath at the sensation.