Hot Christmas Nights

by Rachel Bailey

  “NASA can probably see me from the space station,” Daniel growled again, but he secured the red felt hat more tightly and winced as the little bell on the point tinkled every time he moved his head. The fur round the rim was irritating, especially in full summer sun.

  No, actually he’d been irritated before he’d put the damn thing on. Ever since he’d watched Emma leave his house, with thoughts of previous Christmases rumbling through his head; his annoyance that she’d go all out and spend so much cash on decorations, that she’d make a huge fuss of him. And he’d always felt as if he’d somehow let her down-chosen the wrong present, not made enough effort.

  Story of his life.

  He should have told her every Christmas, not just at Christmas, he should have told her every damned day that he’d loved her. That she made his life worthwhile—goddamn, she made his life. Period. But he’d never said those things, never made her understand how much she’d meant to him.

  Looking around at the group of ten kayakers, he dragged in a deep breath and drew them all closer for the pep talk. Having spent the last few minutes trying not to get too close to Emma as he’d helped her with a sticky zip on her lifejacket, he was glad of the reprieve. She was wearing nothing but a bikini covered by a tight rash vest and the shortest of shorts that showed off her long legs. Her hair was tied back again, a baseball cap pulled down on her head. She’d smiled wryly at his Santa hat and he’d turned away as shivers of lust had rippled through him.

  Now she was hopping into the rear of his kayak because there weren’t any spare single ones and Bas had made them share. Again, to hell with his matchmaking. As if leading a troupe of novice paddlers wasn’t hard enough. He could barely breathe with her around, never mind croak out orders.

  “Right. That’s everyone sorted? Okay, listen up. I need you to check that your lifejackets are fastened. All good? Great. Once we’re out there make sure to keep a hold of your oars—they have a habit of floating off if you let them go. We’re heading out northwards towards that peninsula over there to the right. Try to stay close together. We’ll paddle around the headland, it can get a bit choppy so take extra care. I’ll head up the front, Bas is at the back with Megan. Okay, everyone happy…? Let’s go.”

  He jumped into the kayak, pushed off from the rocky bay and headed out in a northerly direction past the ferry terminal and wharf, then hugged the cliffs until they reached open water. The sun was still high in the sky and a gentle breeze rocked the moored boats around them. It was good to be outside, to put his muscles to use. Prancing like an idiot on a float hadn’t helped rid him of the unspent tension crawling through him. Neither had seeing Emma in his house—their house—again.

  He pulled the oars hard and fast and watched as the headland quickly dipped behind them. A warm summer’s evening on the water, drifting away from the Christmas crowds, expending energy, watching the sea-life and native birds. Peace. It should have been perfect.

  It wasn’t.

  He’d almost kissed her.

  She’d been in his house, in his space, and her scent had permeated the air, reminding him of everything that had happened. The good and the truly terrible. Sitting on the floor surrounded by their memories there had been tears in her eyes as she’d looked up at him. He’d made her cry. More than once. Too many times.

  After erasing her from his life, finally ridding himself of the hold she had over him, her presence here again was so vivid, so intense that he was struggling to work out any of the weird emotions swirling in his chest.

  So, he’d almost kissed her.

  Worse, he still wanted to. And he didn’t want to stop at just kissing.

  “Danny…” Her voice floated to him on the sea breeze. “Danny…”

  “Yes?” He twisted round to see her. Side-lit by the sun her startling blue eyes were bright with light, a smile on her lips. She pointed behind them, to the rest of the group in the distance, specks moving slowly forwards. “You’ve powered out so fast and so hard we’ve left them all way behind. We need to stop a minute for them to catch up. It’s not a race.”

  “Oh.” So much for being the conscientious leader. Laughing, he shrugged. “Got carried away, I guess. Right. Yes.”

  “Or is it a race?”

  He carefully swiveled round to sit facing her, dangling his legs either side of the kayak into the cooling ocean. “No. My mind was elsewhere.”

  “Yeah, that was obvious. I guess we’ll have to hold tight for a few minutes.’ She laughed along and placed her oars between her legs inside the canoe. Then she looked up at the hills to the right, and to the long swaying grass, the riot of scarlet on the trees and the colorful meadow flowers on the slopes leading down to the water’s edge. “Wow, it’s so pretty here, I’d forgotten how beautiful it could be. No people. No noise. Just nature and…us.”

  “Weird, eh? Who would have thought? You and me, doing this again.”

  The light dimmed a little then and the corners of her mouth fell. Whatever happy vibe she’d been feeling before died in the water.

  “Danny…Listen, I need to talk to you about something. Something private.”

  “Sure.” His heart drummed and his gut tightened. Truth was, he wasn’t sure at all. But whatever she was going to say, he probably deserved. He ached to make her smile again, but instead he sat uselessly in the boat staring at her.

  “See… the thing is…” She took a deep breath and slid her hand over his, her grip cold and wet as she shivered. Biting her lip she closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Then a bird screeched overhead and her eyes snapped open again. “It’s nothing. Sorry. Forget it. Bad timing. Look, there’s a white heron. So gorgeous.”

  “Stop hedging. Come on. Tell me.”

  There was a question in her eyes. And she answered it herself, lifting her hand from his and placing it in her lap. “No. Let’s talk later.”

  “At the beach? Because there’ll be a lot of privacy there with ten people wanting attention and to be fed and watered. And here…” He gestured to the dots of kayaks getting closer, but still far enough away not to hear a word they were saying. The slow slop of the sea against fiberglass the only sound. “Can’t get a word in… with all this peace and quiet.”

  “Oh. Okay…well…the thing is… well….Megan’s having second thoughts.” The last few words came out in a hurried garbled stream as if she didn’t want to say such things. He wasn’t sure he’d understood her.

  “What? Megan’s getting cold feet about marrying Bas?” His best mate was about to face a nightmare? How the hell to deal with this? But Emma’s gaze darted away from him and he got the feeling this wasn’t what she’d been intending to say at all. She was the world’s most useless liar. The Bas and Megan story was some kind of a cover-up, he was sure. Had she been about to mention that awkward moment earlier? Or bring up the subject of his drinking? Because they hadn’t even touched on that yet. And they would. They always had. In the end. But Bas and Megan? “That was the private thing?”

  She looked down at her hands. “Er…yes. She told me earlier on that she was having jitters.”

  “Nah, those guys are perfect for each other. Jitters about which bit exactly?”

  “About all of it. The whole I do thing. Because we split. Her parents spilt. Her brother and his wife split.” She glanced quickly behind, at the kayaks gaining more distance. Bas and Megan were whooping and waving to the others. They looked happy and content and having lots of fun. Didn’t look as if there was much wrong there. “She’s worried they’re headed the same way.”

  “Before they’ve even started?” Dan shook the whole idea away. Meg and Bas were tight. “It’s probably just hot air. A lot of people go through that before they get married.”

  Emma turned back sharply. “Did you?”

  “Never.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Good to hear.” His gaze locked on to hers because he wanted her to know this. He had never had a single doubt leading up to their wedding day. It was
only a long time afterwards that those dark thoughts began to creep into his head in the middle of the night. That he wasn’t giving her what she needed, what she’d signed up for. That if he loved her he had to let her go. So she went.

  This wasn’t about them.

  Emma let out a long breath and her shoulders slumped a little as if the weight of everyone’s problems were inside her, tugging her down. “I feel bad for them, though. Maybe if we’d lasted the course Megan wouldn’t be thinking like this, she’d be looking forward to her wedding day.”

  “Our lives are not the same as theirs. Our issues aren’t anything like theirs.” He hated that everything seemed to come back to the failure of their marriage. The wonder of it had been that she’d loved him at all. That single kernel of truth would carry him to his deathbed. She’d loved him. He’d been the luckiest guy on the planet. But now? Now he felt like she was saying everyone’s problems were his fault. “We had our reasons. Besides, you got to go to England like you’d always wanted. And I…well, I’m alive, that’s enough for me.”

  “Yes. Yes you are.” Blinking, Emma looked like she was trying to keep control of her emotions and he wished like hell he knew what was really going on in her head because he didn’t think it was just this.

  “This thing you want to talk about…it’s not really about Megan and Bas, is it?”

  “Yes. Of course. Of course it is.” But her cheeks reddened and her shoulders stiffened. “We need to put up a united front. Okay? Try to be like the old times—you know, when the four of us used to hang out and goof around? That might help her settle. Can you do that?”

  Her tone and her misdirection niggled him. He’d never been one to accept condescension or outright avoidance of a direct question. “Of course I can do that. You keep asking me to do things for them. Don’t you think we’ve been pretty tight here, the three of us, while you were away? You don’t trust I can take care of them? Can’t see what they need? They’re my friends, too—I do know how to look out for them.” They’d all been over-efficient at looking after him, dragging him up from the darkest days and keeping on the right path, he owed them his support at least. He’d given back. His long friendship with Bas was one of the strengths in his life. “At least I was here with them, not thousands of kilometers away.”

  And no, he shouldn’t have said that. That was not how he was these days. That bitterness had bubbled up from nowhere. Somewhere. Yeah, he’d missed her but he was surviving, thriving even. “Look, Em. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Don’t you think I wanted to be here? Do you think it was easy leaving you all behind and starting a new life on my own? I didn’t even know if you were going to be alive an hour after I walked out of that door, but I had to go, Danny, you know that. I missed you every single day. Every. Single. Day.” Emma’s eyes darkened as the atmosphere charged with tension. He really shouldn’t have said that. She leaned closer so he would hear every word. “And you could have come with me. That had been the plan, after all, if you remember? We were going to conquer the world. You chose to stay. You told me to leave, you said you didn’t want me here.”

  “I said you were better off going. That’s a whole different thing.”

  “Is it? Because that’s not what it felt like at all.” Emma’s cracked voice rose. This whole trip had taken a dive he’d been trying to avoid. But it had been simmering since yesterday, it was going to blow sooner or later. Better now than on the top table at the wedding breakfast. She shook her head, irritation leaking from every pore. “And I wasn’t suggesting you don’t know how to be nice to people. I know you can be.”

  “But history proves I’m a jerk, right?”

  “You’re being one now, actually.” Ouch. He probably deserved that too. “Because all I’m trying to do is help out a friend, so you could just say you understand the situation and will work with me.”

  “If I’m not giving every damned bit of myself to helping Bas and Megan this weekend, then why do you think I’m sitting here. In this thing? With my…wife?”

  Her lips tightened as she spoke, quietly but forcefully. “You could leave.”

  “Oh yeah?” He looked around at the lapping water, the birds overhead. The big stretch of ocean between them and dry land. “And how the hell would I do that?”

  “You’d work it out.” She rocked the boat a little and gestured to the sea. There was almost a smile—it had a ring of I won to it.

  She hadn’t won. No way had she won. He rocked the boat harder. “You mean, like this?”

  “No. No, Daniel Wade, don’t you freaking dare.”

  “Stop me.” Tired of having to prove himself one more time, he lurched sharply from side to side dredging up a game they’d enjoyed playing over the years. She loved the tease and the fun of it. If this didn’t break the tension he didn’t know what would.

  And there was nothing much wrong with a hot girl in a wet bathing suit with a glare and a tease in her eyes. Damn it, he’d loved to wind her up to the point where she’d give him hell. Masochist? Probably. He’d also loved the passion and the sex when he’d whipped her into a fury.

  She gripped the sides of the boat, eyes wide. A screech. Their tiff forgotten. Or at least, put aside until later. “Danny Wade, don’t you dare tip this thing over.”

  “Me?” He rocked harder. “You mean…like this?”

  “No! Stop it! Stop it right now!” Without missing a beat she flat-handed the water and sprayed a cool arc over him. “I’m going to get you, you….prize bloody jerk!”

  “I’d like to see you try.” With a sharp twist of his body he had her almost tipped out. Screaming and laughing at the same time she grabbed for him. Her hand slick against his. A grasp. A reach. She caught him. She let him go.

  No. She pushed him.

  She actually pushed him, and he was slipping over and out and under the kayak. The stupid Santa hat disappeared in a fizz of bubbles. Water flooded his nose and mouth as he gasped. Cold. Salty. But no match for him.

  He kicked hard and surfaced facing her, flicking the water from his eyes so he could see her; head tipped back, laughing. A glorious sound. Heavenly. “Just you wait, Dr. Wade, I’m going to get you back for that. And how.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Her hand was out to pull him in. He reached for it, but instead of clasping his fist she waved at him. Grabbed an oar and paddled just a little out of reach. She was grinning widely for the first time since he’d seen her again. A big fat smile that put dimples in her cheeks and the light back in her eyes. God, he’d missed that. “Because you’re going to have to catch me first.”

  Emma quickly steered into a deserted sheltered bay, jumped out of the kayak and dragged it up the shore, over tiny pebbles and shells that stung her feet. Then she took shelter in the far corner of the bay underneath an ancient gnarled pohutukawa tree—their tree—and stood on a carpet of tiny fallen crimson stamens. Shivering. Panicking.

  But it was a delicious panic bubbling in her stomach, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She hadn’t expected that. Or simple fun, straight after an argument. Just like the good old days; forgiving and forgetting; erasing the bad times with a laugh. And a kiss.

  Danny wasn’t far behind, ripping up the waves, then standing shoulder deep, striding out of the sea like Poseidon, with a smile on his lips, a curse in his mouth. He had menace in his eyes.

  And sex was glittering there too.

  The air around her seemed to electrify at the thought. For them the sex had never been the problem. It was everything else.

  “Danny! Finally! Guess you worked it out, then?” Breathless. Bracing herself for his words. Shaking as the water dried on her skin leaving her cold on the outside. Inside, she was burning a fever. “Good to see all that training put to some use.”

  But he said nothing, only fixed her in his sights and strode towards her. Each step making her heart thunder in her chest. As he closed in he unzipped his lifejacket, flung it to the sand leaving his chest bare, hi
s exquisite body rock hard and slick with water. His shorts sticking to his thighs, outlining the strength of his legs. And more.

  She remembered the countless times they’d paddled here at dusk and made love by the light of a campfire. How she’d clung to him and believed that what they had could never be broken, that it would last forever. She remembered the way they’d laugh at something, at everything, that goofing around had been their default. That serious was something they’d tried to hold back because being a doctor and a cop had enough serious without putting it between them.

  She remembered that they would kiss away each other’s fears. That she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else other than in his arms, held tight and safe and warm. A lifeline from the thrashing sea of life.

  And she wondered how that anchor had slipped so far away from their grasp and whether it was still there, bobbing just out of reach. Maybe some effort. A stretch. A leap of faith?

  When he reached her he was breathing hard and fast, his arm muscles pumped, water dripping from his eyelashes like diamonds. He stopped in front of her. Close. Close enough to touch. Which he did, reaching out a hand to her cheek. His thumb made slow strokes over her skin, stoking an unbearable heat in her gut.

  His gaze locked on to hers as he wiped the droplets from her face, ran a trail to her lip with his fingertips. In his dark mocha eyes a fire burnt, hot and hungry. And she didn’t know whether to run or stay.

  When she bit down on his thumb pad he leaned in and groaned in her ear, “Do that again and you’ll be in big trouble, lady.”

  “Promise or threat?” Another game they’d played so many, many times.

  But she didn’t have time to find out his answer because his mouth slammed over hers, all promise, all threat. The taste of salt and elemental man swamped her. She wanted him. Had never stopped wanting him. Would never, ever stop wanting him.

  She wound her hands around his neck, angling her mouth against his, pulling him tight against her. His skin was cold as she moved her fingers over his shoulders, down his back—his muscles tightening in response. Slowly, she relearnt the feel of him, the taste. The empty, frigid two year gap bridged by sensation and searing heat, by need and touch.