Hot Christmas Nights

by Rachel Bailey

  Meanwhile she’d focused on her own needs and her studies. She could see that now and felt shame bubble up inside her. “Being all sentimental had to come a long way down that list, eh? I understand that now.”

  But he had been sentimental, she realized. He’d kept all their photos and had all their memories. He’d finished all the jobs that needed doing. He just had a different way of showing his feelings. She’d wanted hearts and flowers and things…but he’d shown her his love by working damned hard. Meanwhile she’d just complained that she never saw him or grumbled that he was a Scrooge scrimping all the money for serious stuff.

  Then there was the accident. One he happened upon coming home from work; a young boy in a hit and run who Daniel had fought to save. He had made promises to the kid as they waited for help, as he’d tried to stem bleeding from a blown artery. Promises he simply couldn’t keep— he didn’t save the life or find the cowardly perpetrator. His biggest failure. The tipping point of stress that had sent him over a deep dark edge.

  Soon after, he fitted pub visits in between shifts. And she saw him even less.

  She looked at him now, there was no self-pitying there, no blame, just facts. He shrugged. “That house was an investment for our future. Truth was, if we hadn’t met the monthly payments we’d have had no home to put a Christmas tree in.”

  “I know. I understand that now.” Very last century thinking, she knew, but Emma had left the financial things to Daniel, knowing that down the line she’d be contributing a hefty income from her doctor’s job. But living on her own for two years had shown her how important it was to juggle things to make the rent, the burden of running a house, being responsible for everything. “God, I was such a spoilt bitch, but I just wanted to create a little magic for us.”

  This time he twisted to look at her. The steel flecks of anger in his eyes softening a little. “We had that without getting in extra tinsel as far as I was concerned. But I know I got a lot of things wrong back then, I’m not the grand gesture kind of guy that you wanted. I should have let you splash out a little. I was trying to be sensible and to give you the home you wanted, but Christmas isn’t about that, right? It’s about letting all that go and having fun.”

  “Christmas is about family. About being with people you love. I know what it’s like being away from them and I appreciate it all the more. And believe me, when you’ve worked on a home birth gone wrong, fighting to save a baby’s life on Christmas Day, you get the whole true meaning message.”

  More softening in his eyes. She wondered how he saw her now—did he still think she was the spoilt girl or could he see that life had changed her? “That must have been hard for you, Em.”

  “It’s part of the job. Like breaking bad news, like holding someone’s hand when they die. Like sitting vigil until their family arrives from overseas. I’ve done all those things and more. But you know exactly how I felt, don’t you? Fighting for lives? Not always saving them?”

  He shook his head. “Er—it’s Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t we be talking about reindeers and elves?”

  “Not talking about it shoves it under the carpet, buries it deep. You know how damaging that can be.”

  “Look, Emma, I know enough about damage to last a lifetime. Beer. Wine. Tequila. Vodka. I had a lot of damage from them. You think they’re going to numb the pain and they do for a little while, but then things always take a downward spiral.”

  “What do you do when you want a drink these days?”

  “I work hard on not wanting one. I distract myself—hence the rich-bitch list and the marathon. Sometimes the urge just goes. Sometimes it stays and I have to fight. Hard. I take one day at a time. Today, I haven’t even thought about it because I’ve had other things on my mind. I like to think I’m more than my addiction, but I’m realistic to know I’m only one drink away from a relapse.” He cast his eyes around their surroundings and laughed. “Damn strange to talk about drinking problems in a vineyard. That, my love, is irony, right there.”

  My love. He would whisper that to her in the night. You are my love. You are my love. That was the old Danny, so tender, so passionate, so out of control at times it had scared her. “And you never drink these days?”

  “No. Never. I won’t say it’s not hard. It is. But it’s better this way. I’m better this way.”

  “Yes, you are. But…” She broached the subject gently, but she broached it because honesty was the only path she would be prepared to take. Because he was lying. Because she’d had to learn to be open and if necessary confrontational to get to the heart of things, to the stuff that mattered. He mattered. Whatever became of them, Danny still mattered. “You had a drink the other night. I saw you.”

  “When?”

  “In Bas’s kitchen. First night back.”

  Surprisingly, he tipped his head back and laughed. “Ah, yes. I remember you looking at the bottle in my hand. I was clearing up Bas’s empties. And yes, I’ve also become very domesticated in my old age. Who knew that would happen?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me it was Bas’s beer?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to prove.”

  “So you let me jump to conclusions?”

  The laughter disappeared as his eyes darkened. “I didn’t let you do anything, you managed that all by yourself. You have to take people as you find them, Em, not as you think they are. The people we both were two years ago are gone now. But I can hardly blame you— I have bad form where alcohol is concerned. I understand you wouldn’t be able to trust me again. I get that. I get the kiss, too. It was a whole lot of pent-up wishes, although I do think stopping it was a shame.”

  Finally, it was out in the open. The kiss she’d been reliving on an hourly basis ever since. Along with the shivers of need that ran through her body. The confusion. The ache to do it again. Right now. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Believe me, I know exactly what happened. It’s hardly surprising, though, is it? We never had any trouble on the attraction front.” He looked at her for some time before speaking again. And she wished with all her heart that she could rewind the clock back to that time when they’d both been blissfully happy.

  But then—she wouldn’t have known all the things she knew now. About struggling, about inner strength. About what a man Danny could be when challenged. About how he could rise above everything and come out whole.

  He smiled at her; it was a sad smile, a wistful one as he spoke, “But we both know that we’re different people now. I won’t deny I’m attracted to you. Hell, you’re more beautiful in every way. You’re wiser and more self sufficient, you’re confident and glowing. I wish we could have had a better chance. But I’d like to think we could be friends. I like you, Emma. A lot. I like the person you’ve become. You should be proud of yourself. The people of Brisbane will be lucky to have you as their GP.”

  When he’d said he’d loved her in the past she’d taken it for granted because that was what he was supposed to say. Now, however, his praise set a little fire burning in her heart. “I like you, too. You’re different, but the same.” Calmer and steadier but making her pulse race anyway. The lost rookie cop replaced by a man who knew his worth and his place in the world. A good man who deserved good things. “I’d like to think I could trust you. I certainly believe in you.”

  “Good.” He smoothed his hand over hers. “And yes, I will sign the papers. We both deserve a new beginning.”

  “Oh. The papers, yes. Okay. Later. Tomorrow…no. Not on Christmas Day.” A heavy weight pressed on her chest, spreading out through her limbs, crushing her heart. This was the end. “No hurry.”

  “Whenever you want.” There was genuine concern, there. “You do still have them?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. In my bag.” She patted her handbag and felt the dull weight of the dog-eared papers she’d been lugging around for so long.

  “Emma, are you okay?”
>
  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” For God’s sake, she’d instigated the damned legal action so she couldn’t reconcile the pain in her chest, the stinging in her eyes. “It’s just sad, that’s all.”

  He reached a hand and tilted her chin to look directly into her eyes. His voice was soft but assertive. “We did the right thing, Em. We did. Otherwise we’d have brought each other too far down.” It was the same thing she’d been telling herself, but now she wasn’t so sure. If she’d stayed maybe they’d have survived together, come out stronger. But maybe they’d have come out hating each other too. There was his wistful smile again. “Now, there’s that awful Merry Christmas song you made me listen to over and over and over. You want to dance to it?”

  “You hate dancing.”

  “Yes, I do. But we have to practice some moves for tomorrow. It took all I could to convince them not to do a flashy formal wedding-party dance like you see on YouTube. But I know I’m going to be expected to do some kind of dance thing at some point. The least you can do is help me with a few basic steps, you know how bad I am.”

  “Woeful.” She grinned, remembering how much he’d hated that kind of thing. How much she’d teased him for it. Good times. There’d been so many. Before…before they’d lost their way. “For old time’s sake?”

  “Yeah, and for that too.”

  “Okay. Let’s dance.”

  She took his outstretched hand—it was warm and steady and a perfect fit in hers. More, it was safe. Something she’d never felt with him before, and it thrilled her. So hell, yes, she definitely preferred this new Daniel. He wasn’t carefree and careless anymore, but he was certainly far more surprising.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Big bloody mistake.

  But he’d agreed to divorce her, not to stop wanting her. Truth was, he didn’t know where his mind was at. And his body was even worse; every sinew, every single cell, strained for her.

  Daniel looped his arm around Emma’s waist as the DJ dropped the music down tempo the second they stepped onto the dance floor. She paused as if to go back to her seat, but there was no way in hell he was letting her leave, slow smooch or not. This could be the last time they would do this. “Stay?”

  She didn’t look convinced. As if one slow dance would be the undoing of whatever she’d decided was her plan. But as he touched her arm as gently as he could she smiled. “Sure, why not? Just one dance.”

  She looked up at him, all flushed cheeks and dewy eyes and for a second he fought the urge to kiss her again.

  Friends didn’t do that. So he kept it low key.

  He rocked with her in time to the music. Or at least, the best he could, given he had two left feet. Her cheek was almost against his but he kept a safe distance from those lips. “So what are you going to do when the wedding’s over?”

  She brightened. “I was thinking of going into the city and doing a bit of sight seeing. Visiting friends. Chilling. Getting a tan.”

  No impending lawyer’s appointment? “You’ll get a nice tan in Brisbane. Plus, lots of attention from the snakes and the spiders.”

  “Are you trying to put me off?”

  “Just keeping you alert to danger, Em. That’s all. It’s my job.” As a cop, and a husband. “Seriously, be careful.”

  To freak her out he scurried his fingers slowly up her spine and she stiffened, twisting away and back and into his arms. “Okay. So, I know there isn’t a spider on my back. I’m not falling for that game, Daniel. I know all your moves, remember?”

  “Okay. Your funeral.” He looked at her shoulder and made a play of fear. “No. Seriously. Shit. Don’t move. Do. Not. Move.”

  “What? What is it?” She froze, eyes widening as he stretched a trembling hand out and made a play of flicking off an attacking arachnid. As she watched him her mouth tightened into a scowl. “So not funny. You always were a player. And no, I’m still not convinced. Do that again and I’ll stick more than a Santa hat where the sun doesn’t shine. Don’t forget, I’m a doctor, I know exactly how to hurt people.”

  “Ooh, scary doctor voice. I’ve never heard that one before.” He laughed. The difference in her was striking. Back when he’d first needed help with the drinking she’d been there, but when things had gotten tough she’d shied away as if his suffering made him weak in her eyes. Difficult and Emma hadn’t mixed well—not if it meant uncomfortable for her too. But he could see that being on her own, traveling, fighting for herself, working hard, had all made her stronger. In a good way. A very good way. “And that’s as maybe, but I don’t think you’re quite cut out for the outback just yet.”

  She straightened her spine and pulled away from him, just a little. All fight and eager to prove herself. There was space where she should have been. He didn’t like that. But she smiled at him and his heart clutched. Damn it, he should have been more of a man all those years ago. He should have fought for her and made her stay, but he’d been too busy fighting for himself.

  “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart, I can look after myself. I’m going to be living in the city and I’m thinking there won’t be many things to eat me there…,” she answered, filling that space with bravado.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” He wanted her close. End of. To kiss that pout away, to smooth her body beneath him. He wanted her in so many ways it made his heart ache. Wrapping her in his arms he whispered into her ear, “You look mighty tasty to me.”

  Her cheek met his. It was hot. She was hot and breathing a little hard. “And you are corny as all hell.”

  “I like to think so. I’ve been working on that line for a while.”

  Her palms met his chest and heat exploded through him. “Well, I’m sorry to say that your efforts are wasted.”

  “You know me, I’m more actions than words anyway.” He dragged her even closer and pressed his mouth against her cool temple, felt the rapid beat of her pulse against his lips. And hell, yes, there were people watching and he didn’t care. If this really was the end then he wanted to go out with a bang. Literally.

  Surprisingly, instead of pushing away she curled into his kiss, running a finger down the front of his shirt, stopping at the first button and flicking it with her perfectly scarlet fingernails. “Daniel, what are we doing? We’ve just agreed to split.”

  “Damned if I know.” Was that his voice? Hoarse and raw. Even he could hear the sexual need in it. “But it feels good so let’s not stop.”

  He took her silence as an answer. Well, at least she hadn’t said no.

  As the music swayed more upbeat he still held her close, pressing his body against hers, reacquainting himself with the feel of her curves. For a long time there were no words, just touching; her arms, her back, her face.

  Just looking; into her eyes—the sharp bright blue now misted with the same desire he felt deep in his gut.

  Just dreaming; about tonight. About a future. Could it be possible?

  Did he want that? Could he even try to give her that? He had a bad record for breaking promises, and futures weren’t something he could commit to. He took every day he didn’t drink as a miracle. That was why he’d agreed to sign the papers.

  So, he should have walked away. He should have been stronger, but the pull to her was too much. He might have agreed to a divorce, but that didn’t mean he wanted it. And as he’d said before; words were one thing, action was something else altogether.

  She smoothed her palms over his chest, his biceps, down his back, never moving her gaze from his and with each stroke the need for her rose and rose like a threatening storm— acute, dangerous and inevitable. Sparks of awareness prickled over his skin. He wanted her. In bed. Now. Because now was all he could offer.

  It took a moment for him to realize they’d stopped dancing. That people were starting to dance around them, smiling and clapping. Reluctantly, he broke the spell that had woven between them. “Em, we’ve got to get off this dance floor.”

  “There’s some mistletoe, over there,” she whispered along his
jaw, and pointed to a couple kissing in the doorway underneath a posy.

  “You don’t like corny. And that is probably the ultimate in corny. Besides, I don’t need mistletoe as an excuse to kiss you.”

  Her hand dropped from his chest and she grabbed his fist, dragging him away from the dance floor. In ten strides they were in the now empty doorway. “But it’s there for a reason, and we shouldn’t let that reason go to waste.”

  He looked up at the tiny white buds and green leaves. “It’s plastic.”

  “Picky much, Mr. Romantic of the Year? But it is Christmas Eve and you know how you said you should have tried harder…?”

  Here was his chance. “Oh, in that case…”

  But this time she was the one in a hurry. She clamped her hands to his cheeks and kissed him. Full. Hard. Hungry. And he kissed her back, answering her need with one that was two years in the making. He showed her who he was now, who he could be with her by his side, in his life. He poured everything of himself into that kiss. The regret. The promises. He told her he was sorry. He told her how much he had loved her. How he had never wanted to let her go.

  How he still didn’t.

  Pinning her against the doorframe, he trapped her in his arms, holding her prisoner as he relearnt her curves. But she was the one with the damn keys to his heart and she was the only one who could ever release him from the prison he’d locked himself in.

  Always, and only Emma.

  She drew her hand away and moaned against him. “You want to go somewhere?”

  “Yes.” Actually, he wanted to undress her right here. But instead, he kissed her forehead and tried to recover himself. They were in a public place. “But I have to get everyone back to their hotels tonight and the dashing groom has to be put to bed.”

  “The meal doesn’t finish for at least two hours. Everyone seems quite happy.” Her hand tightened in his. “I know a place. Remember? Come on.”

  “Not…?” He followed her outside to the back of the vineyard building. A bright moon lit the star-filled sky. To their left, vines stretched as far as they could see. To the right, a path led down to a beach.