Hot Christmas Nights

by Rachel Bailey

  “You’re welcome,” she said, faking a polite smile. Then she turned to Jake. “Don’t we need to go?”

  A slight frown marred his brow. He studied her face and must have sensed her discomfort. “Yes. I’m going to give Giselle a tour of the visitor’s center.”

  Giselle said a quick goodbye and fled out the front door. She ran down the front steps and walked to the truck, hauling in deep breaths of the fresh coastal air.

  “Are you okay?” Jake asked when he reached her, his brow all crinkled.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Think it’s time to go back into hiding.”

  “Okay.”

  Soon they were traveling back toward Jake’s home. She glanced out the window, but could feel Jake’s gaze flicking to her over and over.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “How can you stand it?” The words spilled out like floodwater over a waterfall.

  “Stand what?”

  “This.” She indicated to the main street they were driving down. “This small, in-the-middle-of-nowhere town where everyone knows your business.” Or think they know. Funny how the ugly secrets stay hidden or are denied.

  “Not everyone wants to be a global superstar, Giselle. Some of us just want a simple life with good friends and close family in a small, caring community.”

  “Not everyone cares, Jake. See that group back there. I bet it’s the same people on the hospital board, on the school board. The ones that volunteer for everything while the majority watch on and complain.”

  “Not everyone has the time.”

  “Rubbish. Not everyone gives a damn.”

  He turned the truck off the main road toward his home. “That’s not my experience.”

  “Perhaps you’ve never had the right experience to test my theory.”

  “And you have?”

  Hell. She’d done it again, strayed into precarious territory. With Jake, her guard dropped. She never blurted out things in her normal life.

  “I can’t wait until this stupid sex-tape thing is cleared up and I can get the hell out of here.” She was being rude, but the words just tumbled out. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She should never have come back. Jake, her mother’s house, the people. She couldn’t think straight in this town.

  Jake pulled the truck to a sharp stop. “Well, thank you for crapping all over my life.”

  She turned to him. His eyes remained fixed ahead. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

  “Yes, you were. But I couldn’t just abandon my family, my community and my life and run away like you. I had responsibilities.”

  He was accusing her of abandonment?

  “I was the one abandoned.” She jabbed her finger into her chest.

  “And how do you figure that? We all tried to find you. Searched for days. Your mother cried for a week when we discovered you were safe but never coming home. She never got over your leaving.”

  “My mother. My mother. My mother.” Even in death her mother was making her suffer. It was as though her mother was slashing a cane on her skin all over again. She could never tell Jake what her mother was really like. She couldn’t bear him not believing her. It would be as though she really had made it all up. “Always about my saintly, perfect mother.” She shoved open the door and walked up the steps to the house.

  There was nothing to gain by facing her past. She’d sell the estate and return to her life, a long way from this stupid small town. Return to the life where no one really knew her. Where no one got too close. So what if it was lonely? So what if it was shallow? So what if her closest confidant was a man she paid to represent her? That was just the way she wanted it.

  The beautiful life of a superstar.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jake slumped back in his seat. What the hell was that all about? Giselle and Faye had always had a funny sort of relationship, but …

  He got out of the truck and opened the front door for Giselle. She sped past him and took the stairs two at a time. He could hear her in the bedroom and he followed her. She was grabbing things from the bedside table and thrusting them into her handbag.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving.”

  He gripped the doorjamb hard. “What? One slight disagreement and you’re running away.” Again.

  “I’ll find somewhere else to lie low.”

  “You know people can have disagreements and still be friends. That’s what friendship is.”

  “Friends,” she said, as if trying out the word. “We haven’t seen each other for twelve years, Jake, we don’t know each other anymore. A little fumble and a kiss doesn’t make us friends. We’re essentially strangers.”

  Strangers? A horrible stab of nausea hit his stomach.

  “Is that how you really feel?” He could barely say the words. He didn’t want confirmation.

  “Don’t you?”

  “No. I don’t.” He wanted to hold her. Hold her forever. But he didn’t move. One step and she was sure to run. “I feel the opposite.” He wanted to say so much more. The feelings poured out of his heart. I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. I’ll love you forever. But he’d already said the wrong thing and she was packing to leave. “The complete opposite.”

  She stared at him with those beautiful brown eyes. “What’s the opposite of strangers?”

  A flash of hope coursed through his veins. He took a small step toward her. “Let me show you.” His voice was surprisingly hoarse.

  She held up his hand and placed it on his chest.

  “Jake.” Her voice implored him to stop, to hesitate, to think about his next move. But he didn’t want to think anymore. He hadn’t acted all those years ago. Hadn’t said how he’d felt. Hadn’t told her he’d do anything for her. Go anywhere with her. She’d left without knowing the truth.

  He slid his hand behind her neck and gave her a moment. A moment to tell him that this wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t move away but she didn’t come to him either.

  Bending his head, he brushed his lips across hers, the chaste touch almost unbearable. He’d waited a lifetime to touch her, to taste her, to have her.

  “Jake.” This time, her voice was an invitation.

  He closed his eyes and kissed her with a lifetime of longing. She tasted sweet, of honey and peppermint. Oh God. He wanted her so much; his body ached with pain and pleasure. He parted her lips with this tongue and kissed her hard, wanting all of her, wanting to possess her, wanting her helpless beneath him, clawing his back and screaming his name.

  Her arms slipped around his body and down his back. She pulled him hard against her. His erection strained against her belly. He kissed her deep and long. Giselle was his. Had always been his.

  She pulled away, reached for the top button of his shirt, and slipped it undone. Then the next and the next. Her eyes burned with lust and want and that rebellious passion he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He stood unmoving, reveling in her touch. Ensuring this was real. She slipped her hands up his chest and over his shoulders so the shirt slid to the floor.

  “Take me, Jake,” she whispered.

  For a moment he was blind and the years of suppressed passion flared through him. He pulled her shirt over her head, then his lips found hers again. He backed her up against the wall, kissing her neck, her hair, her lips.

  He kissed his way down her chest. Pulling the fabric of her bra aside, he drew her nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over the pebbled skin. Giselle arched back against the wall, the air pushing from her lungs in a rush.

  “Jake. Oh God. Jake.”

  Her voice. Her skin. The fresh, spicy scent of his shower gel on her body. Everything about her drove his body tighter, hotter, wilder. He had to possess her. Now. Now. Now.

  Running his hand up her thighs, he dragged down her knickers. Her hot, rapid breath caressed his neck. He slid his hands up her legs, pulling up her skirt. He traced fingers to the apex of her thighs. In one quick movement he slid his
finger inside her folds and found the essence of her sex. Her guttural cry nearly had him undone. He drew his finger over her slick sex, over and over and over.

  “Jake. Please. Now.”

  “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “Condom.” He pulled away. “Don’t move.” He ran to his room, grabbed protection and was back in less than twenty seconds.

  As instructed, Giselle hadn’t moved. Her eyes were closed. Her skirt was a bunched mess at her hips and her black lace bra askew. His body temperature rocketed to scorching. Hell. He’d loved this girl all his life and now she was his.

  She opened her eyes. “Jake.”

  He ripped off his jeans and boxers and sheathed himself. Her gaze on him sent bolts of hot, scorching fire through his body. He picked her up and pinned her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around him and she opened for him. He positioned himself and kissed her. Soft, long and deeply.

  “I love you, Giselle.”

  He thrust into her silky wetness. Every cell, every fiber, the very core of his being blazed to life, as though before this moment he’d been in a dull haze. Everything he thought he knew about life vanished. Giselle’s eyes were closed, her lips parted, her gorgeous face danced with ecstasy. He didn’t want this to ever end but he thrust again and again. Every movement taking him deeper, physically, emotionally, spiritually. This was what he’d been searching for, waiting for. In that very moment, his life changed irrevocably.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  What is that noise?

  Giselle scrunched up her eyes. She didn’t want to wake from the best sleep of her life. She was lying in Jake’s arms. So warm. So safe. So perfect. They’d stayed in bed until the sun had sunk, and then Jake had whipped them up a quick dinner complete with wine and candles. The night had then stretched into a blur of wild passion and hot sex.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “Jake.” She shook the man next to her. “Jake. There’s someone at the door.”

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  “Someone very determined.”

  “What?” Jake lifted his head.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  He didn’t need any more persuading. He leapt from the bed and reached for his shorts. She took these few moments to drink in his nakedness. His golden tan highlighted every taut muscle.

  “Back in a sec.” He planted a light kiss on her lips. “Don’t you go anywhere!”

  Go? She’d never want to go anywhere ever again. Just stay in bed with Jake forever. She rested back on the pillow and gazed at the ceiling. Stay cocooned away from the world. Away from sex tapes and extortion. Away from publicity and paparazzi. Away from pressure and record-company politics.

  She heard a door open and the muffled sound of voices. The bedroom window was directly above the front door. She gently lifted the sash window.

  “She’s here, isn’t she?” A woman’s voice sounded from below—harsh and accusing.

  “Sasha?” Jake asked, obviously playing dumb. “No, I reckon she’ll be at the salon.”

  “Don’t play cute with me, Jake. Giselle. She’s here. Why are you protecting her? Do you know what she’s done? Slept with a married man. A married man with children. It’s all over the news.”

  Every muscle in Giselle’s body snapped rigid. Oh hell. She leapt from the bed and snatched her phone from her bag. It was dead. Unbelievable. She hadn’t let her phone run out of charge in over ten years. She plugged it into the socket in the wall, willing it to charge quickly.

  “It’s a lie,” Jake said.

  No, Jake. No. She dropped her phone and ran back to the window. Jake didn’t know how to handle the media. Rule one, give nothing away.

  “The tape’s a fake,” he said.

  “So you know about the tape. She is here.”

  Giselle heard footsteps on the gravel drive.

  The woman came into view. Her hair was a different color, but there was no mistaking the girl who’d been two years ahead of her at school. Miranda Sorenson.

  “Hey, Giselle. I know you’re in there.” Miranda scanned the house. Giselle pulled back from the window. It was like being cornered by a journalistic rottweiler.

  “What are you doing? Come to destroy Jake’s life again? Love him and leave him like you do everyone?”

  “That’s enough, Miranda,” Jake barked.

  “Like you did to your mother, to this whole community?” Miranda persisted.

  Every word pierced Giselle’s heart. She slumped on the bed. What was she going to do? She pinched the skin above her nose with her thumb and middle finger. What she was going to do was exactly what Miranda so cruelly outlined. She wasn’t going to stay. Sleeping with Jake had been a terrible mistake. She would hurt him. He’d said he loved her. That she’d been the only woman he’d ever loved. But what would that mean? He wouldn’t leave his hometown and she could never stay. She’d leave and he’d hate her. Was this her destiny? That those closest to her would always hate her? Resent her?

  “The whole world knows about that movie director guy, Christian Fisher. Have you seen his kids? His devastated kids? His devastated wife?”

  Giselle covered her face with her hands. Someone had attacked her by making a fake tape, and it had caused children pain. That’s what she did. Brought pain to people around her. She’d been an accident. Her conception wasn’t what her mother had wanted, and she’d ruined her mother’s life.

  “Get out of here, Miranda,” Jake said, his tone brutal.

  “Why don’t you get out here and give me your side of the story before the world’s media arrives?” Miranda called. “After my exclusive hits the internet in the next hour, this place will be swarming. I’ll give you a chance to defend yourself.”

  “Get off my property.”

  “Gee, Jake. I thought you’d be over her by now. Can’t you see she’s using you? She’s swept into town, used us for that little hospital publicity stunt and she’ll be gone as soon as she’s wrung this place for everything she can get. Do you really think the great Giselle Harrington gives a damn about Turtle Beach? About you?”

  “Go.” The menace in Jake’s voice was very real.

  “Did you know those developers are coming back tomorrow? Did she tell you that? She’s going to sell the community down the river—you can bet on that.”

  Giselle sucked in a breath. The developers. She’d forgotten all about the meeting she’d rearranged.

  “And, did you know she’s booked first-class back to London in three days’ time?”

  “You don’t know anything,” Jake said, but the lack of hard conviction in his voice broke Giselle’s heart.

  “No, didn’t think she’d told you. You watch, Jake. People don’t change. Giselle Harrington will flog off all those community assets and will disappear from our lives without another thought as to how her actions will affect others.”

  “Leave now, Miranda, or I’ll call the police.”

  The front door slammed shut. Giselle’s heart drummed out a painful beat. She clenched her hands together and waited to hear Jake climbing the stairs. Coming to confront her? Coming to comfort her?

  But he didn’t come.

  Giselle pulled on the bathrobe that was hanging on the back of the bedroom door and headed down the stairs. Sounds were coming from the kitchen. The smell of bacon wafted through the house. She hesitated. She needed Jake to understand about the developer. She took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen. Jake flipped over some bacon in the frypan. He didn’t glance up, although she was within the line of his peripheral vision.

  “Thanks for standing up for me with Miranda.”

  Jake didn’t answer immediately. He used tongs to transfer the sizzling bacon to a plate.

  “I hope I was telling the truth.” He delivered the words in a low monotone, but they held an accusatory edge.

  “What do you mean?”

  He put down the tongs and faced her. “Is the developer coming tomorrow? I thought you were still considering giving
us time to raise the funds locally.” His voice was calm but tinges of anger hummed at the edges.

  “I am. I just forgot to cancel the meeting. Besides, meeting with them doesn’t mean it’s a done deal. I said I’d consider both sides, and I am.”

  “Are you sure? Or are you planning to complete a simple transaction and disappear again?”

  “So you don’t believe me.” A knot yanked tight in her stomach. It was happening again. Her word being discounted. But this time by Jake.

  “I always find actions speak louder than words.”

  Adrenalin seeped into her veins. She wanted to run, to flee, to race away from his disbelief, but not this time. Not with Jake. This she could fix.

  She ran back upstairs and retrieved her phone. It had enough charge for one call. She returned to the kitchen and dialed so Jake could hear the conversation.

  “Hi, it’s Giselle Harrington. Listen, I’m sorry. There’s been a change of plan. I’m not selling.”

  The developer began to argue. She repeated her apology and disconnected the call.

  “Now do you trust me?” she asked.

  He stared at her for a long moment. “And you’re leaving?” The traces of anger in his tone were now replaced with disappointment. “In three days?”

  She drew in a breath. How had things got so complicated? She’d planned to stay in Turtle Beach exactly three hours, sell the estate, visit the hospital and then exit the place once and for all. How had she found herself in Jake’s kitchen, naked under a flimsy robe, throbbing from a night of sex with her oldest and dearest friend?

  “I was always going to leave, Jake. I live in London. I have a global tour. The tickets go on sale in a few days. You must have known I was going to leave.”

  “Well, leaving is your specialty.” He kept his voice normal, allowing the words to deliver the bite.

  Fury flashed through her body, red, raw, and rabid.