by Susan Gable
"You make me crazy," he murmured against her lips. "Going away was supposed to put this fire out, Harley."
She opened her eyes and looked directly into his.
The summer blue darkened; his pupils widened with desire.
"Burn, baby, burn," she whispered, running her finger over his upper lip.
He lightly nipped at her. "All I want for Christmas is you." His hand stroked her breast, and her nipple hardened, betraying her need. He fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. "And I'm not waiting until December 25 to unwrap you."
His breath heated the base of her throat, mouth ministering to her flesh. He finished the buttons, and she struggled upright, hands clutching the sides of her shirt together. "Maybe—maybe this isn't such a good idea. Maybe we should go into the bedroom." The dark bedroom.
Jake looked at her with an arched eyebrow. Understanding dawned in his eyes. "You're beautiful, Harley." He clasped her fingers and pulled them away from her shirt, then parted it himself. "Beautiful." He moved back. "Show me just how gorgeous you are. Unwrap the package yourself."
Heat scorched her cheeks. Surely he was joking? She wanted him, wanted to lose herself in his arms, the one place she'd ever felt secure—but here? There was too much light in the room with all those strings on the tree.
"Harley, look at me. See what you do to me." She followed his gaze to his lap, where his erection strained against the fly of his khaki pants. "You are a highly desirable woman, now and always."
"Pretty words," she whispered.
"True words. Pretty woman. Let me see you."
She got to her feet, more self-conscious than she'd ever been in her life. Her shirt hung open, exposing glimpses of her swollen belly, her dull white maternity bra. She glanced at his face. He smiled at her. Warmth and desire shone in his eyes.
With unsteady fingers, she unfastened the sides of her jeans and allowed them to slip to the floor. The tails of the shirt trailed down her thighs, providing fleeting coverage. She turned her back on him, reaching beneath the shirt to shimmy out of the cotton maternity underpants she suddenly detested. For a split second she longed to be back on their wedding night, when they'd conceived the baby nestled within her. She'd felt sexy in the white satin nightgown. Not like now. And the Christmas carols weren't exactly what she considered mood music.
But she reached around her back and unfastened the bra, then pulled her arms up inside the shirt to remove it, still within the comforting shelter of the soft flannel. She held the edges in one hand and turned back to face him. She held her other hand out to him. "I … I can't. You'll have to finish the unwrapping."
Jake took her hand and kissed the back of it, surprised to find it quivered beneath his lips. There it was again, a little indication of her hidden vulnerability that he found so endearing. He rose to his feet, then leaned over to give her a slow, smoldering kiss. Finally satisfied that her trembling had more to do with desire than anxiety or fear, he grasped the shoulders of the shirt and peeled them back, exposing her creamy skin, her breasts. "Let it go, Harley."
She straightened her elbows and the garment fell to the floor.
The soft lights from the Christmas tree flickered on her skin, her round belly and delightfully curved body taking on a magical quality. "That is truly the most amazing Christmas present I've ever seen." He gently took her chin in his palm and forced her to meet his eyes. "I told you pregnancy looked good on you, Harley. You really are more beautiful than ever."
He saw doubt in her expression. Fine, if she didn't trust his words, he'd have to show her. He slid his arms around her and drew her flush against him. He dropped kisses along her shoulder, nuzzling, nibbling, enjoying the faint salty taste of her skin, the smooth texture of her flesh. The scent of the jasmine perfume he'd given her on their wedding night clung lightly to her. With one hand, he caressed her side, then moved to cup her breast.
Harley moaned and arched her back.
He leaned over and took the hardened nipple into his mouth.
Her hands sought the buttons on his shirt and began pulling on them. He straightened, then assisted her in the task, shrugging off his shirt.
Flesh met flesh, and Harley sighed with delight, fingertips tracing his washboard abs, hand darting lower to stroke him through the material of his slacks. He groaned, sending a heady feeling of power through her. The button over his fly popped open easily for her eager fingers. The zipper rasped as she tugged it downward with tantalizing slowness. Then she placed her hands against his chest and pushed gently. "Peel off those pants and lie down."
Quickly obeying, he stretched out on the area rug in front of the tree. Mercy, the man was magnificent. And for tonight, she could once again pretend he was hers.
She crossed to his side, then straddled him, lowering herself to her knees. Pure, undisguised longing flashed across his face as she settled against his erection.
She swiveled her hips over him and her fingers played in the traces of dusky hair on his chest, sometimes touching with feather-light caresses, sometimes massaging with firm, broad strokes.
When she could stand it no longer, she reached down, guiding him inside her.
He filled the physical emptiness within her—and filled a lifelong emptiness in her soul.
Jake grasped her hips and struggled not to move. The desire to hold her tight and thrust into her hard nearly overcame him, but he bit his lip and lay as motionless as he could, letting her establish the pace.
They still fit together, the way they had that first time. Their wedding night…
Two months away from her and five months' worth of obvious pregnancy had done nothing to quench his thirst for this remarkable woman.
He was in damn big trouble.
And right now, he really didn't care.
The lights from the tree glistened off the sweat on their bodies and the Christmas carols masked their moans of passion as they hurtled toward completion.
She sat astride him for another minute before she lowered herself to his chest and slipped off, lying against his side. He automatically circled her with his arm and held her close. "Now, that's what I call a present. Merry Christmas, Harley."
She lifted her head, and for once, the emerald eyes were a complete mystery to him. She offered him a tentative smile. "Yeah. Maybe it will be."
She rested her cheek on his shoulder as he stroked her hair. "It will be. I'll cure your Scrooge complex once and for all."
"You're off to a good start."
"Thank you. I pride myself on being the spirit of Christmas personified."
She traced abstract patterns on his chest. "Do you pride yourself on anything else?"
"Like what?"
"Like, um, how quickly you recover?"
"Recover?"
Her hand breezed lower, circling his navel. "Yeah, recover."
He chuckled. "You're insatiable."
"So, what are you going to do about it?" The husky purr in her voice and the teasing actions of her fingers stirred new life in his groin. "I'm going to make love to you until you are sated," he murmured. "How's that?"
"Empty promises. Prove it."
So Jake rolled onto his side and proceeded to prove it.
* * *
Chapter 12
«^»
Muted light from the street filtered through the master bedroom's blinds, casting a faint glow across Jake's face. His low, even breathing assured Harley he slept as she reached out to lightly caress his cheek.
His return had been far different from what she'd anticipated. Not that she was complaining.
Her stomach growled, and the baby fluttered within her. Harley smiled and caressed the mound of her stomach. All that exercise had depleted her energy. She was ravenous. She slipped from the bed, swiping his black robe from the footboard and belting it over her nightshirt.
She padded barefoot into the kitchen, pausing to rub her belly again. "Well, Peanut, what'll it be? Turkey? Ham? PB&J?" The baby shifted beneath her hand and
Harley chuckled. "Peanut butter and jelly it is. Excellent choice." She flicked on the light, then made herself a sandwich and poured a glass of milk. The cat jumped onto the opposite counter. Lifting his paw to his mouth, he began bathing.
"Irving, get off the counter. If Jake catches you up there, you're in trouble. Go on." She whisked her hand in the cat's direction. He sent her a baleful look, then leapt from the counter to circle her ankles. She nudged him with her foot. "Get lost. I'm not feeding anyone but myself tonight."
She gathered up her plate and glass, carrying them into the living room and setting them on an end table. She glanced at the tree in front of the window. "Why not?" Squatting down, she plugged in the wire, lighting the room with multicolored winking. Sighing contentedly, she settled on the sofa with her snack.
A small smile played on her lips as she ate. She'd never again look at a Christmas tree in quite the same way, not after the experience she'd had beside it tonight. She just wished she understood exactly what it meant. Simple chemistry? Lust? But he'd been so tender, so considerate.
That's how he always is. It's his nature. Mr. Nice Guy, remember? She surveyed the decorations he'd put up in one afternoon: the robotic Santa doll standing on the far end table, the snowman face on the wall, the Nativity scene on the top of the entertainment center, well away from Grace and Hope's eager hands. Oh, and the mistletoe, which hung in the archway between the living and dining rooms. Jake's holiday spirit was infectious. Maybe that had something to do with it. Maybe the lovemaking had simply been a gift to her… Maybe Jake was just showing his festive mood.
Harley sighed again, popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth, then washed it down with the remainder of the milk. Having learned the hard way not to go back to bed immediately after eating, she leaned upright against the sofa's arm.
Why was it that she felt lonelier and more lost now that he was home? Now that he'd made love to her again?
Because you know it's only temporary. Temporary, like most things in her life. Like all the foster homes she'd passed through. Like the jobs.
The digital clock on the VCR read 12:08. Harley scrambled from the sofa and yanked open the drawer on the end table. She retrieved a prepaid calling card. Snatching up the portable phone, she returned to the couch, this time sitting near the arm closest to the tree. Using the colored lights to read the access code, she punched it in, then dialed the number long committed to memory.
"This better be good."
She smiled at his gruff act. "Who are you kidding? You're always up at this hour."
"And you're the only one who'd be calling me at this hour. You're interrupting Letterman. So, it better be good." The volume of the television in the background was reduced dramatically.
"Charlie, I just couldn't sleep so I thought I'd give you a holler and see how you're doing."
"Can't sleep? I'd have thought with that husband of yours back today, you'd be plenty busy tonight."
She was silent for a moment. "How did you know Jake was home today?"
Charlie had learned about her marriage after receiving the Erie paper with the marriage license listing that included her name. He'd given her hell for not telling him during their next phone call. Much as she'd hated doing it, she'd lied to her old friend. He was under the same impression Jake's family was—it was a loving marriage, based on a sudden and overwhelming attraction.
Her hand splayed across the lump of her belly. Somehow, there had to be a way of keeping the baby's birth out of the paper so he never found out. She could only imagine his disappointment if he ever learned what she'd done to get her degree.
"I called you earlier today, but you weren't there. I told your husband he had a lot of nerve, taking off like that for two months."
"Oh, I'm sure that went over well. He must've forgotten to tell me you called."
Charlie's deep laugh sounded through the phone line. "I'm not surprised. If you want the truth, kid, your husband sounded a little jealous to me."
"Jealous? No way." Jealous? Of Charlie? That certainly was an interesting tidbit.
"Yeah. I know jealousy when I hear it. Maybe if he'd stayed home instead of leaving you alone, he wouldn't be feeling insecure."
Her mind whirled as she tried to piece this new information together with his behavior. She plucked a needle off the end of a branch. Were Christmas miracles really possible? Did she dare even think it?
"Kid?"
"Yeah, Charlie?"
"I know how you feel about Christmas, but Harley, you've got a new life started there as a married woman."
Her hand covered the swell of her stomach. Thankfully, he didn't know the half of it. And she wanted to keep it that way.
"Try to enjoy it this year, kid. Have a merry one."
"I'll … try. You do the same, okay?"
"Oh, I will. Actually, uh, there's this lady who lives a few doors down from me, and she invited me to her place, and you know, I, uh, I think I might go."
Well, I'll be. The old scoundrel had finally found a girlfriend. His wife of many years had died shortly before Harley had met him, and he'd never shown any interest in hooking up with another woman. "Good for you, Charlie. That sounds nice." So, why did it make her feel even hollower inside? Charlie deserved some happiness.
And what about you? a soft voice whispered in her head. Don't you deserve some happiness, too?
"I'm not sure I'm going yet," he growled. "So don't start with me. Tell me, you having a white Christmas?"
"Sure are."
He chuckled. "I don't miss that."
"I miss you, you old goat." Moisture welled up in her eyes, and she blinked hard as the lights from the tree blurred.
"Yeah." His voice lowered. "Me, too."
"You take care of yourself, Charlie. I gotta run. I'll talk to you before the New Year, okay?"
"Okay. Night."
With a click, the connection was severed. Harley jabbed the off button on the phone and dropped it on the end table.
"Who's Charlie?"
She jumped. Jake stood framed in the arch of the hallway. "Jeez, you scared the life out of me! What are you doing up?"
Clad in a pair of dark sweatpants, he crossed the living room. "I woke up and you were gone. I wanted to check and make sure you were okay." He flopped onto the sofa and folded his arms across his chest.
"I'm fine. The baby was hungry." She gave him a slight smile, uncertain of his mood.
"You haven't answered my question. Who's Charlie?"
Have mercy, the man was jealous. What exactly did that mean for them? She mirrored his posture, crossing her arms. "Why didn't you tell me he'd called today?"
"It slipped my mind."
"Well, I'm glad it wasn't anything important, like him calling to say he'd been admitted to the hospital or anything!"
Jake shook his head. "I'd gladly have passed that on."
"What a horrible thing to say!" She yanked a pillow from behind her back and threw it at him. "Charlie is my friend."
He caught the cushion and deftly tossed it to the floor. "How good a friend?"
"Oh, for crying out loud! For your information, Charlie is sixty-two years old. He's my only friend. And … my former parole officer."
"No."
"No, what?"
"No, he's not your only friend." He shifted toward her on the sofa.
She inched back. "How would you know?"
"Because I'm your friend, too, Harley. At least, I thought I was." He edged closer.
"You're—you're my … business partner." She ran her hand over her belly. "Here's the proof."
"Business partner? Do they usually do this?" His fingers curled around the back of her head and he pulled her in, kissing her hard, a kiss of possession.
It left her gasping for breath. "O-okay, you're my lover, too."
"Oh, I'm more than that, Harley." He nuzzled her earlobe. "I'm your husband."
"You're my temporary husband." His warm breath against her ear scrambled he
r brain cells, and she struggled to remain rational. He was her husband in name only, and only because she'd insisted. He licked the curve of her ear and she shuddered. Okay, maybe he was her husband in body as well, but it still wasn't real. It's not real. It's not real.
"I'm your husband now, and now is all that matters. Wasn't it you who told me to enjoy the little things?"
She nodded.
"Do you know what I'm going to do?"
She shook her head.
"I'm going to carry my wife back to bed and enjoy making love to her again." He lifted her from the sofa cushions, cradling her against his chest.
Harley wasn't sure exactly what was going on; she was afraid to even contemplate it. Maybe she'd finally lost her mind and had begun to live in a fantasy world.
Or maybe Christmas really was a time for miracles. She allowed herself a tiny sliver of hope as he carried her back to his bedroom.
* * *
Jake hadn't anticipated Christmas morning this eagerly since he'd been a kid. Outside the kitchen window, fluffy snowflakes swirled in the wind—not too much, just enough to add to the holiday cheer. He positioned the mug of coffee on the tray, then added a small plate with one of Harley's other favorite foods. Holding the tray in both hands, he headed down the hall. He used his toe to nudge open the door to the master bedroom.
Harley lay on her left side, back to him, still asleep. He set her breakfast on the floor and shook a warning finger at the dogs. Face stern, he pointed at the door. Benji and Pepper slunk from the room to lie just over the threshold in the hallway.
Jake perched on the edge of the bed. Leaning over, he brushed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear and easing closer. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up, it's Christmas."
She shifted onto her back with a low groan. "G'way. It's still night."
"I bet I have something that'll make you open up those eyes." He retrieved the coffee from the tray. Steam wafted from the cup as he passed it near her nose.
"Mmm." One eye opened to peer at him. "That smells great. Why are you tormenting me with it?"
"Because this is for you. I brought you breakfast in bed."