Silver Bells

by Fern Michaels

  Silver moonlight streamed across the sheets as she pulled back the comforter while Gabe turned on the gas fireplace, causing sparks to flare.

  Then he took her in his arms and lowered his head until their lips were close, not quite touching. “I want you to know, absolutely, that this is important to me.”

  “I do.” Her breath shuddered out as he stroked her throat with the pad of his thumb. “It’s important to me, too.”

  Those gorgeous creases in his cheeks deepened. Just when she thought he was going to kiss her, really kiss her, Gabe tilted his head so that his lips grazed her cheek. Her mind spinning, she moaned softly as his firm, but snowflake-soft lips skimmed around the curve of her jaw to her other cheek.

  She turned her head, trying to capture those tantalizing lips, but his mouth deftly evaded hers, gliding up her bruised face, where she feared the heat raging beneath her skin had burned off the mineral powder concealer she’d applied so carefully earlier this evening.

  His breath warmed the hollows of her cheeks, her temples. When it whispered gently over her eyelids, they fluttered closed and she forgot all about worrying about how her black eye might look.

  She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Every fiber of her being was so brilliantly, radiantly alive, concentrating on the drugging feel of his clever hands as he undressed her, piece by piece, then following the blazing trail those broad hands made with his mouth.

  Finally, it was her turn. Holly took her time, as he had, pulling his sweater over his head, allowing her mouth to drink in the taste of his heated skin. Her blood pounded in her veins as she stripped away the rest of his clothes.

  Then somehow—was it possible to float?—they were lying on the moon-spangled sheets, hands touching, lips exploring, soft sounds of desire filling the air as they became lost in each other.

  When Holly would have hurried, Gabe slowed the pace, as if intent on savoring every moment. Her body felt as if it had been turned to liquid, flowing heatedly beneath his touch, which promised erotic delights. When his fingertips plucked at her sensitive nipples, she arched her back. But already his hands had moved on, leaving only a lingering sense of pleasure and a steadily rising need.

  His hand spanned her stomach, causing a weakening warmth there before continuing downward. When his tantalizing touch skimmed up the inside of her legs, and his thumb flicked against that damp, ultrasensitive place between her thighs, her entire body began to tremble.

  Just when she felt on the verge of shattering, wanting, needing to treat Gabe to the same sensual pleasure, she shifted, so she was lying next to him, exploring his body as he had hers, entranced by the contrast of his surprisingly soft skin pulled taut over steely muscle.

  She skimmed her lips down his damp chest and drew a shaky groan. Dipped the tip of her tongue into his navel, and had his fists knotting the sheets. The sheer masculinity of him was both powerful and beautiful at the same time, and suddenly, Holly wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her.

  As if reading her mind, he caught hold of her shoulders and flipped her over, taking a moment to sheathe himself in the condom he’d placed on the nightstand after lighting the fire.

  Bracing himself over her, he looked deep into her eyes.

  “Now,” he said.

  “Now,” she whispered.

  He surprised her. Dipping his head for a soft, tender kiss that for some reason seemed more intimate than everything else they’d shared.

  Their hands linked. Watching each other, they joined. Bodies. Minds. Hearts. He began to move, driving her deeper into the mattress, plunging into her hot slick heat until she cried out his name. When he felt the rippling waves of her climax, Gabe surrendered the last of his control. With one last mighty thrust of his hips, he filled her completely, giving in to his own release.

  He could still feel her inner tremors as they lay there together on the hot, tangled sheets, pulses of passion continuing to spark between them.

  “I wanted this.” He lifted his head and brushed the damp hair away from her face. She still had a few red scrapes from the airbag and her poor swollen and discolored eye looked as if she’d gone ten rounds with Evander Holyfield, but he’d never seen anyone so beautiful. “From the minute you stepped out of that Highlander.”

  “I know.” She smiled beneath his thumb as it stroked her love-swollen lips. “At least I sensed something spark. I wanted you, too.” She smoothed a hand down his damp back. Over his butt. “That is, once I got over worrying about you being a serial killer. Or a 5150.”

  “A 5150?”

  “A crazy person.” She sighed as he kissed her again. “On the loose.”

  “I am crazy.” He deepened the kiss. “About you.”

  Not wanting to go into the local drugstore and buy rubbers for tonight, which would’ve allowed every damn person in town to know that he’d been about to get naked with Holly Berry, Gabe had been grateful that his brother-in-law Jack, who’d been trying to get him laid since he’d first come back to town, had shown up two weeks ago with an invitation to dinner and a box of Trojans.

  The double date his sister had ambushed him with hadn’t worked out. The third grade teacher had been sweet and pretty and had, with a few little hair flips and a lip-licking thing that women did, let him know that if he wanted to get lucky when he took her home, she’d go along with the program.

  But there hadn’t been any chemistry. Not so much as a twinge on his part, and if she’d been totally honest, he suspected she hadn’t really been all that hot to jump his bones either. Just lonely. Or more likely, tired of being alone.

  Which he could goddamn understand. And identify with. Just not enough to do anything about it with someone he didn’t want to have to talk to over a breakfast table the next morning.

  Rachel had complained he was too picky. That it was time to move on. Jack had suggested he just drive into the city, pick up some hot chick in a bar, and go for it without overanalyzing it. That, Jack had decided, was the best way to get over whatever mental block against sex his cheating wife must’ve saddled him with.

  As much as he’d appreciated them caring about him, Gabe had ignored both their advice. But as the moon rose higher in the star-studded sky, and he and Holly Berry made love all night long, Gabe was damn grateful for the condoms.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was a time of mistletoe and magic. Of cocoa, and carols, and walking hand in hand down snowy lanes. Although she’d spent twenty-one years of her life avoiding Christmas, over the next five days, as if determined to make up for all she’d missed growing up, Holly allowed Gabe to coax and cajole her into experiencing the joy and fun to be had during the holidays in “The Most Christmassy Town in America.”

  Although it had been obvious that Emma’s sacrifice to forgo helping decorate the tree had been a matchmaking attempt, Holly insisted the little girl help, and as the three of them hung the wooden ornaments they’d picked out together at Sam Fraiser’s shop, when Gabe had lifted Emma high to put the red-haired angel on top of the fragrant blue spruce, Holly felt as if they were becoming a family.

  A feeling that intensified as she attended the school’s Christmas pageant, sitting in metal folding chairs with the entire O’Halloran clan. They watched Emma, clad in a long white nightgown Gabe’s sister Janice had sewn for her and angel wings Holly, Beth, and Rachel had spent an entire evening gluing sequins and tinsel onto, sing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” and “Away in a Manger.”

  “I didn’t forget my lines,” she said as she flung herself into Gabe’s arms after the play.

  “You were perfect,” he said.

  “Better than perfect,” Holly seconded. “In fact, when you were singing, I felt as if I was listening to a real, live angel.”

  Emma beamed. “This is,” she said on a long, happy sigh, “my bestest Christmas of my whole life.”

  Gabe met Holly’s eyes over the top of his daughter’s bright head. “Mine too,” he said, his voice roughened with the desir
e that seemed to grow, rather than diminish, each time they’d made love.

  The auditorium was filled with parents and children. The scent of cedar mingled with the happy buzz of holiday conversation and snatches of carols as students continued to sing, not as a performance, but for their own enjoyment.

  But all that faded away, and once again, as always happened when he looked at her that way, Holly felt as if they were the only two people on the planet.

  “I’ll make that unanimous,” she said.

  The annual Ho Ho Ho Inn Christmas Eve party, unsurprisingly, given that Gabe’s sister Janice appeared capable of being CEO of a Fortune 500 company, went off without a hitch and was a smashing success.

  By the time the evening had come to an end, Holly figured she’d danced with just about every male between the ages of fifteen and ninety in town. Including Daniel O’Halloran, a tall, rugged, still handsome man who looked, Holly guessed, exactly as Gabe would look in his fifties. He was also even less talkative than his son, which wasn’t surprising, given that he’d spent so many years living with a wife, three daughters, and now a granddaughter who was showing early signs of someday claiming Rachel’s conversational crown.

  No longer bothering to pretend that their relationship was casual, after the last guest had drifted out the door, Holly went upstairs with Gabe and Emma, who, after a day of ice skating on the lake, snowwoman building, topped off by the party, had fallen asleep the minute her head had hit her pink Powerpuff Girls pillow.

  It was like a scene from Currier & Ives. Outside the soaring window, fat white snowflakes floated down from the moongilded sky, turning the forest, and the lake beyond, into a winter wonderland.

  Inside, a red and orange fire crackled in the grate and two stockings—one for Gabe and another for Holly—hung from the mantel. Emma’s own stocking was, as Sam Fraiser had claimed, hung in her bedroom.

  Holly was sitting on the leather couch in front of the fire, her feet up on the coffee table, sipping brandy, as she had their first night together, gazing at the Christmas tree that was decorated with the same wooden ornaments that hung on her own tree and the one downstairs, along with blown-glass balls Gabe had told her had been handed down from his mother, and red and green construction paper chains. She’d never felt more content in her life.

  “It was a good party,” he said.

  “The best,” she agreed. “That was nice of you to eat Mrs. Fraiser’s pork rinds. I think you and your mother were the only two people who actually tried them.”

  “I didn’t want her feelings to be hurt. They’re pretty gross, by the way. Gotta feel sorry for Sam, being on that low-carb diet.”

  “Speaking of Sam, I noticed he wasn’t at the party.”

  “Never is,” Gabe said.

  “Because it’s his busy night.”

  “Exactly.”

  Holly was in too good a mood to argue something that no longer mattered. If Sam wanted to pretend to believe he was Santa Claus, what harm was there in the entire town going along with the idea?

  “It’s perfect,” she murmured.

  He followed her glance to the tree. “The construction paper was definitely the final touch.”

  Holly smiled. She and Emma had made those chains together at a table downstairs in the restaurant two days ago. “Definitely. But I was talking about my life. Right now, at this frozen moment in time, it’s positively perfect.”

  “You know,” he said, with what she could feel was studied casualness, “if you were to hang around here a while longer, we might manage to work our way up to absolutely, positively perfect.”

  “Why should I leave?” she asked with a feigned casualness she, too, was a very long way from feeling. “I can work anywhere. Everyone’s so friendly and welcoming.” She ran her finger around the rim of the brandy snifter. “And, of course, there’s Emma. And Dog.” She smiled down at the huge dog who was currently snoring away in front of the fire. But as soon as the lights went out and the adults went to bed, Holly knew he’d sneak into Emma’s room. “And, of course, you.”

  “I saw this interview you did on YouTube the other day,” he confessed. “While you were over at the cabin writing.”

  “Ah.” She nodded. “I know which one you’re talking about.” She’d been nervous, as she always was when the spotlight was turned on her, but she’d thought it had come out well enough. “About life imitating art after that strangler appeared to be using one of my books as a how-to guide.”

  “That’s the one. Anyway, you were talking about how you plot everything out beforehand, with all the Post-its and index cards and notebooks.”

  “That’s the way I always worked,” she agreed.

  Until coming here. Every afternoon she’d spend two or three hours writing, and without any forethought, the words had been flowing as if from some magic well. Not wanting to send her muses back into sulk mode, Holly hadn’t questioned the change in process. Just welcomed it. Although she did occasionally wonder if again, it had something to do with the magic of this place. Or, perhaps, just how Gabe had her opening up to so many new experiences and ideas.

  “This past week I’ve been more of a go with the flow kind of girl.”

  “Then you won’t panic if I give you something you might not have planned for? Something personal?”

  “Well, I was really hoping for a George Foreman grill,” she said on an exaggerated sigh.

  Surprisingly, he didn’t smile. In fact, he seemed unreasonably nervous. “Next time.”

  He bent down, and from behind the stack of packages beneath the tree, took out a small, gilt-wrapped box.

  Holding her breath, Holly slipped the ribbon off it. Carefully took the tape and paper off. Inside the black velvet box, an antique diamond ring, set in white-gold, glistened like a glacier.

  “It’s my grandmother’s,” he said. “If you’d prefer something more modern, that’s cool, too, but I knew if I bought a ring here in town, you’d hear about it before I could get it home, so I figured that perhaps, this could stand in as a promise, and later, we can go to the city, and—”

  “Why would I want to do that?” she asked. “When this is so perfect?” Not just because she honestly found the filigreed ring lovely. But because of its history. A history that connected Holly with Gabe’s family.

  She slipped it onto her finger. “It fits.” Perfectly.

  “I’m glad.” His shoulders, which had looked as stiff as if he’d been standing at attention on a Marine parade field, loosened, revealing his relief. “I love you, Holly. More than I ever thought was possible.”

  “I know the feeling.” She reached into her bag and took out an envelope. “I didn’t buy you a gift either, for the same reason,” she admitted. “But I wanted to give you something. So, I wrote you this.”

  She’d poured her heart out for nearly a dozen pages. Sharing the years of sadness, some she hadn’t even realized she’d been suffering. And how, since meeting him, her entire life had changed. All because of the wonderous joy of loving this very special man. And his equally special child.

  She watched him, her heart in her throat, as he read the deepest secrets of her heart. Her yearnings. And her conviction that despite everything she’d been brought up to believe about fate being merely an appealing myth, her entire life had been leading her here.

  To this place.

  To this man.

  When he lifted his head, his eyes were bright with suspicious moisture. “Thank you.”

  Simple words, but she’d already come to accept that Gabe was a man of few words. It was the emotions behind those words that counted.

  He drew her into his arms. Kissed her long and deep. Then drew back. “Every time I look at you, every time I kiss you, I fall in love all over again.”

  She smiled. Touched her hand to his cheek. “Then don’t stop looking,” she suggested. “Or kissing.”

  “Don’t worry. I plan to keep on doing it for the next fifty years.”

  “And th
en?”

  “And then we’ll just continue kissing our way to our centennial anniversary.”

  “Oh, I do like how you think,” she said on a breathless laugh.

  She was about to suggest they move into his bedroom where they could move beyond the kissing part of the evening, when he drew back.

  “That’s funny.”

  “What?” She followed his gaze to beneath the tree.

  “That box wasn’t there when I arranged all the packages before the party.”

  He left the couch again and picked it up. It was wrapped in green paper with Santa’s smiling face. The same paper Rachel had wrapped Emma’s elephant in.

  “The tag says ‘To Holly. From Santa,’” he read.

  “Good try.” She smiled even as she shook her head.

  “I swear.” He lifted his right hand. “I’ve never seen this box before.”

  Holly didn’t believe him. But, because she loved him, she played along with the game, opening the package.

  Inside, lying on a bed of red satin, was a yellowed envelope, addressed in red pencil to Santa Claus, postmarked twenty-one years earlier, from Los Angeles, California.

  “It can’t be,” she said. When her fingers began trembling too much to open the envelope, she held it out to Gabe, who pulled out a folded piece of lined filler paper.

  “‘Dear Santa.’” He read the all too familiar childish printing out loud. “‘My mama cries all the time since Daddy died. She says you can’t bring him back to life. But this year, the only thing I want is a happy family. Like I used to have. Thank you and Merry Christmas to you and Mrs. Claus and all the elves and reindeers. Especially Blitzen.’”

  “He was always my favorite,” Holly murmured.

  “Helluva coincidence,” Gabe said.

  “That’s one word for it.”