Holiday Sparks: A Christmas Romantic Comedy

by Taryn Quinn

  Like mother, like daughter. “Being independent doesn’t mean that we have to be alone. Remember that. Oh, and remember that they’re dumb.”

  “Hey!”

  Darcy laughed at Jerry’s voice.

  “I’m sorry, dear, but you can do really dumb things. So keep that in mind and forgive the little things. They don’t mean much in the grand scheme.”

  Even lies? She was fairly sure he was going to tell her that night with Brittany, but how could she be certain? “Thanks, Mom. You guys have a really Merry Christmas with the rest of the cruise people.”

  “We will. I love you, honey. We’ll celebrate when I get home.”

  “I’d like that.” And for the first time, she actually liked the sound of Christmas. “I gotta go, Mom.”

  “Okay, I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She turned off the ringer on her phone and stared at it for a full minute before she swiped the menu awake. She scrolled through to Ben’s contact info and tapped in a message.

  Her chest felt lighter. She was doing the right thing. Christmas meant possibilities and everything about Ben had been hopeful possibilities. Now to just get through the rest of the day.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ben stared at the text message for the fifth time.

  “Uncle Ben, you can’t use your phone in church.”

  Ben lowered his face to Brittany’s and rubbed his nose with hers. “Brat.”

  He stuffed it back in his pocket, but he knew what it said. It wasn’t like it was a difficult message to remember.

  Come find me after you’re done with your family. Oh, and Ben…Merry Christmas.

  He tried to pay attention to the homily at the vigil mass. Fortunately St. Mary’s version of a vigil mass was ten instead of midnight. Brittany was fading against his arm, trying valiantly to keep her big dark eyes open.

  By the end of the mass he was carrying her out. Neither he nor John were particularly religious, but it was a nice way to honor their mother for Christmas. Ben settled her into the backseat of John’s van.

  “Annual Christmas barbecue tomorrow?”

  John nodded. “At least that I can help cook.”

  He hugged his brother. “Merry Christmas. Here’s to a better year.”

  John returned the hug, slapping his back. “Amen to that.”

  Ben climbed into his truck and tapped his phone against his palm. He quickly fired back a message.

  Are you still awake?

  He started the engine and was halfway down the street when she replied with a simple yes. It was only a five-minute ride to their house but it felt interminable. He pulled up, surprised that the single tree was turned off already. Instead, five fat snowflakes hung in front of her door.

  He grinned. No wires. His Darcy had put up her own Christmas decorations—solar ones. A sticky note was stuck to the back of the center star.

  Come in.

  He turned the knob and was surprised to see another string of lights. This time on the shelves above the small table in her entryway. They looked like mini-lanterns in brilliant greens, golds and purples. They hung from the books she had stacked on each end of the shelf.

  He followed the lights on the stairs. The little battery-operated, scented lights that were so popular these days. Cinnamon and vanilla led the way up to the landing. “Darcy?”

  He walked down the hallway. Another battery candle sat in front of her door. He pushed it open to see a curtain of white lights dripping from her window. He smiled. A large candleholder sat in the middle of the window with a huge red bow. This one was a real flame.

  “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

  He turned to her voice. A small click sounded and her bed lit up. The wrought iron canopy was swagged with white panels at each corner and twinkle lights crisscrossed the top.

  The woman in the center of the crimson sheets glowed from the inside out. “You bought a new bed.”

  “I paid handsomely for this king-sized bed. So handsomely you’ll have to be my slave this summer to help me build my deck.”

  His smile widened. “I can do that.”

  She rolled onto her knees, a deep green negligee flowing around her hips, kissing the tops of her thighs. “I was thinking about what you said the other day.”

  He focused his attention on her face instead of his silk-over-cream present just inches away. “About what?”

  “About not letting me go.”

  “I love you, Darcy. There’s no way I’m letting you go.” His boots hit the intricate scrollwork of her footboard and still she was too far away. He drew her forward, tracing his fingertips down the plunging back of her lingerie until he found petal-soft skin along the base of her spine. He trailed tiny circles in the hollow, smiling as she shivered.

  Her Christmas-colored eyes misted with a light sheen of tears.

  “I wanted to tell you right away.” He wrapped his arms around her waist until she was flush with his chest and their foreheads touched. When a single tear trailed down her cheek, he held on tighter. “I should have told you as soon as I figured it out.” He brushed his lips over the wetness, taking her salty flavor, her pain and her generosity inside. “Every day I waited felt worse than the last.”

  “You didn’t think I’d understand?”

  He smoothed a lock of burnished gold hair away from her face. “I was protecting my family, but you’re my family now too. At least I want you to be.”

  She gripped his arms, curling her fingers into his simple white dress shirt. “I want that too. Really want that.”

  He caught her lips in a soft kiss, sipping from her until the salt of her tears faded and it was only them. “That day I was going to tell you. The one day we both had off. That last time with you,” he gripped her sides, crushing her tighter to him, “I knew I loved you.” Desperate to taste her, to make sure she never went anywhere without him, he brought his hands up to cup her face. “When you trusted me even when I didn’t deserve it, I knew I had to make things right. I don’t want anything between us, Darcy. Especially lies.”

  She hooked her fingers around his wrists and stretched up to kiss him. “No more lies.” She smiled.

  “No more lies.” Her hair slid around his fingers as he deepened the kiss. He knelt on the bed, stretching her out under him. With quick fingers she unbuttoned his shirt and flung his tie to the floor.

  He lowered his mouth, sucking a tight little nipple through silk. “Speaking of lies.”

  She wrapped her leg around his hip and laughed as she arched up. “Do we have to?”

  “I think someone was lying about how much she hates Christmas.”

  She cupped the back of his head. “I think it might have a few perks.”

  He laughed and drew on the other tip until matching dark spots clung to her like wet tissue paper. He blew lightly and laughed when her eyes flew open. “I think you secretly like Christmas.”

  She scissored strong thighs around his hips. The green silk pooled around her belly. He scored his nails over her hips, finding her bare. She nipped his lower lip and released the catch of his dress pants, scraping her teeth over his neck and pushing his pants and boxers over his ass. “I think Christmas might have a lot more possibilities with you around.”

  He rolled his hips into the valley of her thighs. “I told you I’d make you love Christmas.”

  She laughed into his kiss. “So gosh darn cocky.”

  “You said that word again.”

  She curled her arms around his neck, her laughter filling the room. “Gosh, I guess I did.”

  He groaned as he slid into her, the clasping perfection of her body and the love between them more than he could have ever hoped for.

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3 #2

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  USA Today bestselling author, Taryn Quinn, is the redheaded stepchild of bestselling authors Taryn Elliott & Cari Quinn. We have been writing together for a lifetime–wait, no it's really been only a handful of years, but we have a lot of fun. Sometimes we write stories that don’t quite fit into our regular catalog.

  Do you like shorter and dirtier reads?

  Anything goes with this pen name.

  • Sexy—check.

  • Erotic—check.

  • Sweet—usually mixed in with the sexy…so, yeah—check.

  • Rom Com—check.

  • Dark—oh, yeah…check.

  • Paranormal—check.

  Did we mention that we like all the genres?

  So, c’mon in. Light some candles, pour a glass of wine…maybe even put on some sexy music.

  Join our Newsletter: Walk on the Wicked Side

  For more information about us…

  tarynquinn.com

  tq@tarynquinn.com

  Want more super hot Christmas romance?

  FILTHY SCROOGE

  Making deals is my specialty. And tonight, my terms are…her.

  I hate Christmas. For years, I’ve avoided the holiday entirely.

  Until Kandy Kane enters my life—the same seductive mystery woman I danced with at a club last night. When she shows up at my company the next day as our Christmas party planner, she’s desperate for help with her little problem.

  My hot elf in striped tights needs a last-minute Santa.

  And I need her. In every way possible. And this time, she’s not going to run. Alone in my remote cabin for the weekend, she’s going to be mine in every way she knows and a few she doesn’t.

  Except she’s hiding a secret. So am I.

  She’s a virgin.

  And I’m the bastard who is going to ruin her for any other man…unless she ruins me first.

  BUY or BORROW

  Read on for an excerpt…

  Chapter 1

  Kay

  “If you don’t get out on that dance floor, I’m going to kick your ass.”

  “I’m going, I’m going.” I tugged at my short red velvet skirt. Mel had convinced me to schlep all the way to Brooklyn to go to this club, the least I could do was get my dance on. I missed it. Working seventy hour weeks had killed any extracurricular activities in my life. Starting my own company was worth it, dammit.

  There’d been a time when a club had been my favorite outlet. I could lose myself in the colors, the music, the anonymity of it all. This place—Purgatory—lived up to its name in every way. It was in between in all ways that mattered. Depending on the day, the center of the huge building could be a dance club or concert venue. Outside was a sidewalk cafe with a garden straight out of England.

  I could let the wilder side of me free.

  I didn’t have to be Kandy Kane here, with all that sugary name implied. Most of the time I loved it. Hell, I made my career around my name.

  Here, I was just Kay.

  I didn’t have to make decisions or give orders.

  I could feel a man’s hands on my skin without the promise of anything more.

  The lights flared, then dimmed. A wash of purple and red swirled over the crowd turning everyone the same hue—cool and hot at the same time. The lights and the dancers pulsed as the low beat of the song ebbed and flowed.

  I felt an answering echo in my lower belly.

  Bad sign.

  “There she is.”

  I threw a narrow-eyed-glare at my best friend and assistant. She knew me far too well. “One dance.”

  Her glossy red lips lifted at one corner before she wrapped her lips around her straw. “Sure. I’ll be here, drinking my courage.”

  “And you expect me to just go on out there?”

  “Yes. Go let loose.”

  I flicked my heavily curled hair over my shoulder and took a deep breath. It was just like riding a bike.

  I glided into the crush of people. Instinct took over as the music infused into the marrow of my bones. There was no expectation. No one knew me. So I let go. The watery undertones of the song urged my hips into soft, fluid circles. This was exactly what I needed. As usual, Mel had been right.

  I found my spot in the center of the crush of people. I ignored the bump of strangers, and the dancers who thought they were far more talented than they were. I let my gaze drift to the whirling lights above me as the tension in my shoulders melted away.

  My body became one with the underlying beat of the song. The heartbeat. I could find it in any piece of music. A Christmas carol, a hymn, a rap song, a country tune—it didn’t matter. There was always heart to a good song.

  Once I found it, everything else fell into place.

  I slipped my fingers into my hair and let the dreamy music take me away. Clubs often extended the song with remixes and I chased the rhythm. My breath raced as the song built up and spun out.

  Eyes were on me.

  I ignored them.

  Right now, I didn’t want small talk, or someone grinding on my ass.

  I just wanted this. The only release I could find.

  The song changed to a big hit that had been reduced to a shadow of its original flavor. One that I didn’t want to dance to. I raised my arms to shimmy my way through the crowd when a large hand slid along my waist. The pads of a man’s fingers skimmed along the raised hem of my shirt.

  Being in a club meant hands on you whether you wanted them or not. I’d broken my share of fingers when I wasn’t in the mood. I lowered my hand to do just that when the guy invaded my space.

  Strong thighs aligned with mine as he pushed me back toward the center of the floor.

  My eyes flashed wide, met eyes the color of blue flame. An intense, unflinching stare. There was no guesswork, no teasing—just pure heat. His fingers slid around to the small of my back. His hips moved in time to my own.

  He didn’t hold me tight. Just enough to keep me close.

  I tipped my head, curiosity riding me harder than annoyance. I shouldn’t have allowed it. He was too big, too overwhelming to be the kind of man I normally danced with. I preferred fun and smiles. No harm, no foul kind of guys who didn’t give me trouble when the dancing was over.

  Not like this man.

  His broad shoulders were encased in a fitted black shirt with another collared shirt under it in the same jet color. In fact, he was dressed in black from head to toe.

  He stroked his thumb under my chin to bring my attention back up to his eyes. He didn’t speak. Not that either of us could be heard over the music, but he didn’t even bother with the pretense.

  Just those ridiculous blue eyes burning into mine.

  The song faded into one that I loved. Watery strings with a staccato lyric to start before the drums and crashing tones filled the space. His hand grew bolder, coasted down my back to my ass, and his knee slid between my thighs.

  Our gazes didn’t waver.

  Our bodies melted together in a sexual dance that should have been far too provocative for strangers. My heart raced and a wash of heat rushed from my thighs up to my sex. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had such a heady reaction to anyone, let alone a man who didn’t know my name any more than I did his.

  Did he do this often? I knew I sure as hell didn’t.

  I swallowed down a sudden flood of panic. I glanced around us. No one was paying attention to us.

  His thumb was at my chin again, dragging my gaze back to his.

  “Right here,” he mouthed.

  I swallowed and tried to step back. He brought his hand to my hip and caught my hand with his other, lacing our fingers. His skin was smooth with a ridge of calluses along his palm. The beat of the song was harder, darker than the previous ones played.

>   I moved into him this time.

  Maybe I didn’t want the link broken. Just for a few more moments.

  The tingle along my thighs grew with each brush of his. The roll of his hips in time to the song changed the simple buzz to a surge. My nipples throbbed and my thighs were soaked under my skirt. Arousal slammed into me. Panic licked along my lower spine and activated my flight response.

  Dancing was one thing. More?

  No, that wasn’t me.

  I twisted away and pushed my way through the dancers. The murmur of pissed off people doubled. The next song was a Britany remix that had the room pulsing again.

  My heart crashed in my ears as I finally broke free from the dance floor.

  Don’t do it. Don’t turn around.

  But I couldn’t help myself. I glanced back to see if my mystery man was following, but he was not.

  He’d probably moved on to the next girl.

  So stupid. He’d probably lost interest the moment I’d pulled back like a frightened virgin.

  Worldly. Yeah, that was me.

  I might know how to find my inner dancing queen, but the vixen half of me had yet to figure out how to play.

  I placed my hand over my midriff. Everything was still buzzing and fluttering madly. I tugged my shirt down, then smoothed my skirt. Disappointment crashed into self-preservation.

  Besides, there was no way I could test the waters with someone like that. I was better off with Jason. He was one of my temps at work. He’d been asking me out for the last three weeks. He was sweet and would undoubtedly take his time—and surely let me take mine.