“Merry Christmas, Chloe,” he told her as Kojak squeezed past them. “I was working up the courage to knock.”
“I don’t look that bad in the morning.”
“It’s pretty early. I wasn’t sure you’d be up.”
The frigid morning air wafted over her face and froze her ankles, so she pulled him inside and closed the door. “I made coffee. It should be done by now if you want a cup.”
“Well, first I, uh…I brought you something.” He pulled a small, square package wrapped in Christmas paper from his coat pocket and handed it to her. “It’s…umm…maybe you should just open it.”
She sliced through the paper with her fingernail and peeled it away from the plain white box. When she lifted the lid and unfolded the tissue paper, her breath caught in her chest.
It was a key. Shiny, with well-defined edges, so it was either cut recently or was seldom used.
“It’s a key to my house.” Scott’s voice was a bit tight, as if from nerves, and Kojak made a questioning sound and thumped his tail. “I know we were just supposed to have a holiday fling and I tried but…I think I fell in love with you.”
Chloe’s heart was pounding so quickly she was surprised she didn’t pass out. “You think?”
“I’m pretty sure, actually. I don’t want to let you go, Chloe.”
“I…wow.”
“I know. I wasn’t supposed to. But I think, if you give us a chance, it might be the real thing. I know the distance is an issue, but somehow we can make it work.”
“I was calling you because, even though I said it was only a holiday fling, I think I fell in love with you, too, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least tell you.”
“You think you did, huh?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“I think I’d like to kiss you right now. Pretty damn sure I would, actually.”
He didn’t need to tell her twice. She moved into his embrace, sliding her hands under his jacket so she could wrap her arms around his waist. He hugged her shoulders with one arm while cradling the back of her neck with the other, then lowered his mouth to hers.
It was a sweet kiss—filled with the promise of a new future together—and she sighed in contentment against his mouth, wishing it could go on forever.
Kojak, however, had a different idea and kept headbutting her hip until she reluctantly pulled away from Scott. “Yes, Kojak. Merry Christmas.”
As she scratched the dog’s belly, Scott peeled off his coat. And then the flannel shirt he wore unbuttoned over his T-shirt. “You turned the thermostat up again, didn’t you? I swear, I’m going to have to build an addition to be your office so it can be on its own heating zone.”
“Or you could just strip for me. Often.”
When Kojak was content with his greeting and wandered off toward the couch, Scott pulled her back into his arms. “Can you be happy here, Chloe? I know it’s not an exciting place, but—”
She kissed him to shut him up. “I’m already happy here. I’m happy with you.”
“And kids?”
“When the time is right, yeah.”
“A few?”
She laughed and tried to push him away, but he didn’t let her go. “A couple.”
“Several?”
“We’ll see.”
“You know,” he said, dropping his voice down into that sexy bedroom range that made her knees weak, “these are some very sexy pajamas you’re wearing.”
“Mmm…and now that Santa’s delivered all his presents, we’re free to be naughty.”
He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her toward the stairs. “I’ve got all the present I need, right here.”
“This is the best Christmas ever,” she whispered against his cheek.
“Like I told you before, I aim to please.” He paused halfway up the stairs to kiss her again. “Merry Christmas, Chloe. And welcome home.”
About the Author
Shannon Stacey married her Prince Charming in 1993 and is the proud mother of two incredible sons. She lives in New England, where her two favorite activities are trying to stay warm and writing stories of happily ever after. And while her two cats refuse to curl up on her lap and keep it warm while she writes, her Shih Tzu is never far away.
You can contact Shannon through her website, http://shannonstacey.com, where she has maintained an almost daily blog since 2005. You can also visit her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/shannonstacey or at her Facebook page, http://facebook.com/shannonstacey.authorpage, or email her at [email protected].
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9085-7
Copyright © 2010 by Shannon Stacey
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