Her hand spread on his middle, and her leg lay heavy over his thigh. When she sighed, he felt his whole body respond, even though he’d loved her fully and completely just moments ago. She stirred him with her closeness and with her touch. And when his body began to tighten, he touched her hand and guided it down to the evidence of the desire he felt for her.
“See what you do to me, Dr. Love.”
She circled his strength as she pressed her lips to his chest. “I think I have a good suggestion about how to deal with that.” She drew back and looked at him through the shadows. “If you’re interested in a professional idea.”
“Very interested,” he said on a shudder when she stroked him lightly. “What is it?”
“I think a demonstration is in order,” she whispered and moved.
In one easy movement, she was over him, straddling him, and with exquisite slowness, she eased herself down on him until he was surrounded by her velvety heat.
“Yes,” he groaned as he cupped her breasts and pressed the hardening nipples with his thumbs. “Yes.”
“Do you like this idea?” she asked over him, her hair falling forward to make a veil around them that seemed to shut out the world.
“Oh, yes.”
“Should I go on?”
“Absolutely,” he breathed as he slipped his hands down to touch her hips.
As she began to move, the sensations were so strong that everything fell away. All that mattered was Madison and him, and the world of feelings that he thought couldn’t get any stronger or more exquihe comsite, yet did with each rocking movement.
It was no slow, leisurely taking, but a wild explosion of desire and pleasure that drew them both into its vortex. And he lost himself in it. He let go, giving himself up to the fury of passion that burned through him, and when he knew he couldn’t bear any more, he climaxed. Pleasure flared into ecstasy as he heard Madison cry out and arch back.
He stood at the apex for what seemed an eternity or maybe it was just the length of a heartbeat, then slowly he began to descend. Madison was holding on to him, her skin damp against his, and as they rolled onto their sides facing each other, he felt her take a shuddering breath.
“Oh, my,” she whispered as she snuggled into his chest.
“Exactly.” He stroked her back and shoulders, enjoying the slight trembling in her with each of his touches. “Exactly.”
From deep in the house he heard a clock strike three times, then Madison murmured, “We can’t stay here all night. I don’t know why Rachel would let you use it to begin with, but I’m not questioning that.”
“We can stay as long as we want to, but actually, I need to be home by five. Wyatt never sleeps past five on Christmas morning.”
“Oh, it’s Christmas.” She sighed. “I almost forgot.”
“Wyatt won’t.” He stroked her shoulder, then trailed down to the swelling of her hip. “And have I got a Christmas present for him this time.”
She chuckled softly against his chest. “You know, I hated the idea of being Darla Kincaid’s Christmas present, but I love the idea of being one for Wyatt.”
“Yeah, it’s awesome, Dr. Love.”
“Exactly.”
He shifted to raise himself on one elbow as she settled on her back into the pillows. In the dim light, he looked down at her. “When can we get married?”
She didn’t hesitate. “In four days. It takes three for the license, but today doesn’t count because everything’s closed. Then we just have to find a judge or a justice of the peace.”
He exhaled a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “I thought you might want to wait to have all your family here, and—”
“I couldn’t wait that long. You know, it’s three hours later in Vermont. Why don’t we call them and tell them that we’ll come back there for a huge reception after the holidays?”
“Excellent idea,” he murmured, then kissed her quickly before he drew back.
She scrambled to sit up, and as she sat back against the headboard, she reached for the phone. “Why’s the light flashing?” she asked.
He shifted to sit up by her and reached to his left to snap on a low sidelight. It was a speakerphone with a line of lights at the base. A tag over the flashing light read Incoming. “There’re messages, probably directed here from the phones on the second floor.”
“Rachel Harrington really takes her work home with her, doesn’t she?”
He looked at Madison. “Not anymore. She sold the agency, you know.”
“She sold it?”
“She found some cowboy, got married and headed out for Montana to a ranch. So the agency was sold.”
“So you have a new boss?”
“No. I don’t work here.”
“You quit? Oh, Steven, you didn’t have to.” She touched his arm. “I told you, whatever you do or whatever you are, it’s okay.”
“Keep that thought,” he said as he reached over and pushed the button under the light. “I think I should take the messages.”
A computerized voice came on the speaker. “You have four messages.”
“You shouldn’t be listening to the messages,” Madison said. “They’re for the new boss.”
“I know. That’s me.”
She stared at him in the low light. “What?”
“It’s a long, long story.”
“How long does it take to get to your place from here?”
The machine whirred as it rewound. “Why?”
“How long?”
“Half an hour, forty-five minutes tops.”
“Okay, we’ve got until four-fifteen. Explain what’s going on.”
It was hard for him to concentrate on what he was going to say when she was naked and all he wanted to do was love her. He shifted around to face her on his knees, then he sank back on his heels. “Okay, but just keep it in mind that you don’t care what I do or what I am.”
“Just tell me what’s going on,” she said.
He reached out and touched her bare knee, desperately needing that contact, but not trusting himself to touch her more than that. “I know you think I’m a gigolo, a paid escort. But I’m really...”
As Steven talked to Madison, there was a series of beeps, then the first message began.
“Rachel, hopefully you’ll be monitoring your messages for a while. Merry Christmas from Chloe and Dalton. We hope you are having the holiday of your dreams. Ours is just beginning. In two hours, instead of spending Christmas in cold, rainy San Francisco, we’re off to the island. I got lucky and was able to buy it as a surprise for Chloe for Christmas.
“Thank God for you and the agency, or Christmas might be a lot different for us than it’s going to be. Merry, Merry Christmas, and I hope the new owner enjoys the statue.”
“You’re who?” Madison asked, the voice on the speakerphone totally ignored as the electronic timer stamped the message as being left around seven on Christmas Eve.
There was another beep, then the second message started as Steven took a breath and said, “Steven York, York Enterprises and...”
“Ms. Harrington, this is Katie O’Connor-Smith. I was just calling to see if you got my last message. I wanted everyone to know how happy I am. And, yes, the baby is going to be a boy. Dak says to pass on his best to all of you at the agency. And Merry Christmas to everyone there. Thanks for all your help.”
As the woman’s voice stopped and the time stamp came on for eight o’clock Christmas Eve, Steven never let go of the hold he had on Madison’s knee that was beginning to feel like a lifeline to him.
“But you said it didn’t matter what I was or who I was. And I’ve told you I’m not a gigolo.” His voice rose as Madison just stared at him with those incredible blue eyes. “For heaven’s sake, love, I’m not some...”
The beep sounded and the next message started.
“Rachel. This is Matt Travis. I know you’re monitoring your calls even if you’re off in the wild blue yonder with that cowboy
of yours. I want to make sure whoever buys the agency takes me out of the computer. Get Annie to tell them I’m not available and never will be again, or I’ll have to answer to my detective fiancée. Jill’s here with me at the Green Door at Chet’s annual party and wants to say hi.”
“Happy holidays, Rachel, wherever you are. Take Matt out of the computer right now, and thanks again for setting me straight back on prom night. I finally got to one of those dances and found the man of my dreams. Hope your Christmas is as merry as ours is starting out to be, and we’ll see you at our wedding next month. Bye and ho, ho, ho to everyone there.”
The time stamp said the message had been left at nine-fifteen at the same time Madison gasped, “You own this place and you’re the York in York Enterprises, the CEO or president or king or whatever the hell they call the head of a company like that?”
Steven nodded. “CEO, and, yes, I am, and I didn’t intend to deceive anyone. I just wanted to see how the business worked before I put our money into it.”
“And this all happened because you were worried about investing money?”
He shrugged. “More or less.”
“You let me think you were a—”
“We’ve gone through this before, and you said you loved me even when you thought that’s what I was.” He moved closer until he could cup her chin with one hand and look into her blue eyes. “I forgave you for lying about being married. My lie doesn’t amount to a hill of beans next to that one. It cost us a whole week of misery.”
“That’s like comparing apples and oranges,” she said. “It’s different. I’m not rich and the owner of some worldwide company who was spying on people and lying.”
“No, you’re Dr. Love, and you’re sitting naked in this bed about to make me beg you to forgive me.”
“Well, that’s got possibilities,” she murmured.
The machine beeped and another message began.
“Annie. I tried to get back to you sooner, but we’re snowed in and the phone just got back in service. You weren’t at your place, so I figured you must be at the agency. Missy got to the ranch just before the storm started, so we’ve all been sitting around relaxing.
“I hope everything’s going smoothly with the pending sale. I hate to not be in the old house anymore, but I never thought I’d say this. The ranch is home now, home with Wade. That sounds good, doesn’t it?
“I can’t believe how things have worked out. And I just hope that if Steven York does buy it, he takes a personal interest in the agency and that it makes him as happy as it’s made me. Without it, I wouldn’t be sitting out a blizzard with the man I love. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.”
“Well, I’m begging. And I want to know if the agency is going to make me as happy as it’s made Rachel and the others who called?” Steven asked softly.
Madison moved out of his touch and scrambled off the bed. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was going to get dressed and leave. But instead she said, “I’ll be right back,” and moved across the floor without a trace of embarrassment at being naked.
She opened the door, went out and, just when Steven was ready to jump off the bed and run after her, she was back. She stopped halfway between the bed and the door, and in the low glow from the sidelight, he saw her hold out a wilted sprig of mistletoe.
“Do you believe in Christmas traditions?” she asked softly. “Do you believe in decorating trees, making snow angels, eating huge turkey dinners with your family and Santa Claus?”
He didn’t hesitate as he got off the bed and crossed to her. Without touching her, he nodded. “Wyatt already does, and I can learn.”
“How about mistletoe?”
He leaned forward without touching her with his hands and brushed his lips softly across hers. Then he drew back. “Absolutely. I’ll buy a mistletoe factory or grove or orchard, or wherever they get it from, and we’ll have it up all the time, year-round.”
“Then we don’t need it,” she said as she tossed the mistletoe over her shoulder. The next moment she was in his arms, and he knew he’d never let her go again. “I was just asking,” she murmured. “It’s good for a couple to start marriage agreeing on the important things in life.”
With a low groan, he swept her up in his arms and headed for the bed. “Excellent observation, Doctor.”
As they fell into the mussed linen together, Madison sighed. “Merry Christmas,” and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Yes, Merry, Merry Christmas, Dr. Love.”
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8329-9
The Christmas Husband
Copyright © 1995 by Mary Anne Wilson
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
The Christmas Husband Page 21