THE NIGHTS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

by Vicky Lewis Thompson

  "I don't know what you mean." Suzanne came to the bus stop and was forced to pause. Despite her sore muscles, she felt as if she could walk straight downtown, no problem.

  Terri grinned. "Yeah, you do. And I'm happy for you. It's good to know I did the right thing, suggesting Greg. He's good medicine."

  Suzanne drew the sharp, cold air into her lungs and fried to breathe normally. She couldn't keep her jealous thoughts about Jennifer at bay any longer. "Good medicine for Jennifer, too, I guess."

  Terri reached over with one gloved hand and squeezed Suzanne's arm. "It doesn't matter, does it? This is your turn."

  The churning in Suzanne's stomach grew worse as she thought about Jennifer, a tall, leggy brunette who worked as a fashion designer. No doubt Jennifer was way more exciting in bed than a financial analyst could ever dream of being. "She told you she'd slept with him?" She was a glutton for punishment.

  "Yeah," Terri said. "But don't think about that. Remember, this is a temporary thing, anyway. Have fun. Don't get too attached, and just have fun."

  Suzanne forced a smile. "Of course."

  Terri studied her. "Oh, hell. You are getting attached, aren't you? Look, that's not a good idea. He's supposed to be your rebound man, remember?"

  "I'm not attached," Suzanne said.

  Terri sighed. "You are, and I should have known that was one of the dangers with you. You never have understood the concept of a casual affair. But I thought, considering he's a handyman, that you'd keep your emotional distance."

  "I will! I mean, I am keeping my emotional distance." She decided not to argue with Terri about the snobbery thing. That would only confirm Terri's suspicion that there was a problem. Which there was.

  "You really need to leave your heart out of this, Suzanne. Because no matter how much he seems to be involved, he'll eventually move on. And you may not think so now, but that's exactly what you want him to do."

  "Absolutely." But of course she wanted nothing of the kind.

  "Give it time and you'll see what I mean."

  Suzanne nodded, although she didn't believe a word of it. With every minute that passed, she was falling deeper in love with the handyman.

  * * *

  Matilda always knew when Greg was preparing to leave, and she usually acted as if she could talk him out of it. Tonight she made a pest of herself by winding herself between his legs in an endless figure eight and meowing plaintively while he dressed.

  "I'll be back," Greg promised. "We'll both be back." At least he hoped he and Suzanne would finish the evening together. Taking her to Jerry's Dogs and Suds was quite a trial by fire, but he had to know if a few hours in the company of his blue-collar friends would make her start questioning his lifestyle.

  Yesterday he'd thought about skipping the weekly darts tournament so he could spend more time alone with Suzanne, but now he'd decided that the timing couldn't be better. He was falling fast for this vulnerable woman with her deeply sensuous nature. For some reason, she'd felt safe enough to reveal her true self to him, and he was captivated.

  But they had no future if she couldn't accept his true self, a guy who wanted a simple job and unpretentious friends. Just because he loved to read and learn new things didn't mean he had any interest in joining the rat race. If she would end up nagging him about making something of himself instead of accepting him the way he was, then he might as well find out now so he could start cutting his, losses.

  He'd deliberately dressed down for this date, but even the long-sleeved flannel shirt seemed like too much of a statement, as if he wanted to impress her. Exactly the opposite. But the temperature had dropped a few more degrees, and a T-shirt wasn't going to do the trick, even with the down jacket he planned to wear. And instead of his trusty sneakers, he'd need to put on his hiking boots to better handle the snow and slush.

  They'd be taking the bus. He had a truck parked in the building's underground garage, but he didn't normally drive it to the pub and he wasn't about to drive it now because Suzanne was going with him. She needed to get a realistic picture of the way he liked to live. If she could deal with that, then maybe they had a good thing going.

  As he sat down on the bed and leaned over to lace up his hiking boots, Matilda put her front paws on his knee and meowed right in his face.

  He cupped a hand behind her head and rubbed the base of her ears with a thumb and forefinger. "This is important, Matilda. I have to find out if Suzanne is going to become a permanent fixture around here or if she's just a passing fancy."

  Putting it into words like that made his stomach churn. He was already more entangled with Suzanne than he wanted to admit, and pushing her out of his heart wasn't going to be easy.

  As he continued to massage Matilda's head, she purred and closed her eyes.

  "Wish me luck, Matilda," he murmured.

  * * *

  Suzanne changed clothes four times. If it hadn't been nearly six o'clock, she might have changed again. The whole problem was Jennifer. Before being confronted with Jennifer, Suzanne had shoved Greg's "other women" into a mental closet and they'd pretty much stayed there until this morning.

  Now thoughts of Jennifer were driving her crazy. Jennifer worked in a very creative field and she dressed with flair and imagination. Suzanne had spent an embarrassing amount of time during the day reviewing her closet and had concluded that she owned nothing that spoke of flair and imagination.

  She might have used her lunch hour to shop, except she'd spent so much time thinking about her wardrobe, she was forced to eat at her desk so that she could finish a report that was due that afternoon. Consequently she'd faced her closet at five twenty-five praying for a miracle, hoping she'd forgotten something that she'd bought on a whim and then hung out of sight.

  What a dreamer. She never bought anything on a whim and she usually opted for black. There was enough damn black in her closet to dress a church full of mourners. She'd worn one of her few exceptions, the red twin-set, the night before.

  Worse than that, she had almost nothing appropriate for a night at a cute little pub. Her status-conscious dates hadn't taken her to places like that, so she had dressy outfits, work outfits and exercise outfits.

  Except for one thing. As a last resort, she'd put it on, and now she had to go with it because Greg could be arriving any minute.

  Her father had given her the sweater at least six or seven years ago. He'd bought it during a skiing trip, and it had little images of a skier knit into the pattern. Suzanne had never skied in her life and wearing the sweater seemed like false advertisement, so she hadn't ever put it on.

  Except for the skiers, the sweater's red-and-gold pattern reminded Suzanne of a favorite blanket she'd taken to Girl Scout camp when she was ten. A spark from the campfire had burned a big hole in it and her mother had convinced her to throw it away. She'd often wondered if her dad had remembered that blanket and had bought her the sweater because of it.

  Once, she'd taken the sweater out of a bottom drawer and shown it to Jared to get his reaction. He'd called it "hokey" and suggested she give it to charity. She probably should have but instead she'd tucked it back in her bottom drawer.

  Dressed in that sweater and her tried-and-true black wool slacks and snow boots, she felt completely without flair. No wonder Greg had hesitated taking her to bed that first night, considering he had someone like Jennifer to compare her with. Even her underwear was boring. The garter belt and matching bra was as exciting as it got with her.

  The doorbell buzzed, and her heart kicked into high gear. She took a deep breath and reminded herself to play it cool. Terri might be wrong about Greg's suitability, but she was probably right that he would move on soon. Emotional distance was a very good idea.

  The minute she opened the door and saw him standing there looking like the most gorgeous woodsman she could imagine, her emotional distance evaporated. His soft flannel shirt looked perfect for cuddling in front of the fire in that Wisconsin cottage he dreamed of owning someday
. Unwise though it might be, she wanted this man, wanted him with a fierce ache that wouldn't be tamped down.

  "That's a great sweater," he said.

  She'd been so caught up in admiring how manly he looked in his green plaid shirt that she'd forgotten to be embarrassed about the sweater. "It's okay," she said, stepping back so that he could come inside. "You didn't have to say that. At least it'll be warm."

  "You don't like it?" he asked.

  She hesitated, thinking of Jennifer. To hell with it. "Yes, I do," she said. "My dad got it for me and it reminds me of my childhood. But it's a sweater you'd wear on a skiing vacation, and I don't even ski."

  "So? Is there a law against wearing a sweater like that if you don't ski?"

  "I guess not." Feeling much better than she had five minutes ago, she thought about how comforting it was to be with someone who didn't worry about such things. Come to think of it, he might not have cared whether Jennifer had fashion flair or not.

  "I brought you something." He pulled a fiat box out from under his arm. It was wrapped in red and green Christmas paper and tied with a silver bow.

  "A Christmas present?" She took the box.

  "Not exactly, although you did bring me and Matilda those things last night."

  She felt her cheeks grow warm as she remembered the mistletoe she'd put at the bottom of that gift bag, and how she'd used it later. "That wasn't really a—"

  "Well, this isn't either. But the gift-wrap department automatically did it up that way, and I decided to go with it."

  She opened the package carefully, the way she did every package, trying her best not to rip the paper. When she heard him chuckle, she glanced up. "What?"

  "I'm just enjoying watching you open it."

  "Pretty anal, huh? But the paper is so pretty, and I—"

  "I wouldn't have you do it any other way."

  She looked into his eyes and her heart lurched. There was definitely something warm and adoring about the way he was gazing at her. Maybe he'd perfected that particular expression because he knew it made women feel cherished. If so, it worked. She could wallow in that warmth all night.

  Forcing herself to break eye contact, she went back to opening the package. At last she lifted the lid to the box, moved aside the tissue paper, and found a pair of black silk panties underneath. Their sexual adventures from the night before tumbled over her like a breaking wave, making her ears buzz and her chest tight.

  "I had to guess at the size." His gentle voice didn't seem to fit with the chaos he'd caused by giving her this sexual reminder. "Suzanne, are you okay?"

  She nodded, afraid to look at him for fear he'd see the lust in her eyes. She didn't want to go to dinner. All she wanted was to rip off his clothes and hers and repeat everything they'd done the night before.

  "They might not be exactly like your other ones." He sounded worried. "There's a gift receipt in there, so you can exchange them if you want. The salesclerk thought that would be a good idea. She said that guys don't always correctly guess a woman's—"

  "They're perfect." She swallowed and lifted her gaze to his, her heart pounding. "Are you…" She paused and cleared her throat. "Are you sure you want to go to dinner right away?"

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  «^»

  When Greg saw the seductive gleam in Suzanne's blue eyes, he forgot to breathe. He'd been struggling to contain his own lust ever since she'd closed the door and created the privacy to do … anything they chose. Oh, Lord. His body throbbed and his head spun. They had plans, but there was no schedule. None at all.

  He wasn't sure who dropped what first, but suddenly his coat hit the floor along with the box holding her new panties. Then they jumped each other—kissing and fumbling with buttons and zippers. There were no words, only moans and urgent caresses.

  Her sweater came off in a jiffy and her bra was no challenge, either. But they had to unfasten the cuffs of his shirt and some of the buttons down the front before they could pull it over his head to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. She wrestled with his jeans and he worked on her slacks as they moved toward the sofa. Soon both were down around their knees, giving them plenty of access but no mobility.

  "Boots," she said, gasping. "We have to—"

  "I know." But he didn't want to stop kissing her and stroking her hot, moist body, so he returned his tongue to her mouth as he pulled her down to the sofa. But the slacks she still wore kept her from spreading her legs the way he wanted, and his hiking boots felt like a pair of concrete overshoes.

  At last he wrenched his mouth from hers to take care of the last impediments. Panting like a winded runner, he reached past his aching erection and fumbled with his bootlaces as he gave her a ragged command to do likewise. After what seemed like forever, they were both naked and rolling together on the sofa. He didn't think they'd spend much time on foreplay, not with the way she was spreading her thighs and clutching his bottom.

  He managed to stop kissing her for a split second. "Condoms?"

  A short, heated silence was followed by her anguished wail. "I don't have any! Don't you?"

  "No!"

  She looked absolutely frantic. "Oh, Greg! I really need—"

  "And you'll get, too." He started to slide south to give her what she needed. At least one of them could go to dinner happy.

  She cupped the back of his head, stopping his progress. "No. That's not fair."

  He glanced up at her. "Let me love you."

  Her eyes smoldered with unchecked passion. "Then we'll love each other. Together," she murmured.

  He could hardly believe this was the same woman who had insisted on making love in the dark two nights before. Here they were under bright lights in the middle of her living room, and if she was suggesting what he thought she was suggesting, she'd lost nearly all her inhibitions.

  "Let me get on top." Her voice was as bold as her glance.

  "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

  Her lips parted and her breath came in quick little spurts. She was trembling, but there was nothing tentative about the way she was looking at him. "Yes. I am."

  If he'd been hot for her a few minutes ago, he was past the boiling point now. Although he was shaking, he managed to cradle her in his arms and roll her on top of him without either of them landing on the floor.

  Her eager gaze swept over him. Then she reached behind her and picked up the red pillow they'd tossed to the end of the sofa to make room for their writhing bodies. "Lift up your head," she directed in a husky voice.

  Moments later she reversed her position over his quaking body. Her mouth slid over his penis as he began to pleasure her with his tongue, causing her to quiver and moan above him. As far as he was concerned, this could last forever.

  But her hunger for him guaranteed otherwise. That and the sweet nectar on his tongue made him pulse with need and draw closer … and closer yet. He felt his control going even as he knew that he needed a few more seconds to bring her to the edge. A few more … and then he came, shuddering and groaning as he pressed his mouth deeper.

  He felt the first quake run through her. He moved his tongue faster. Warm breath tickled his penis as she took her mouth away and began to whimper. Another quake, and another.

  He was crazy about this woman. Crazy in love with her. Pressing the tips of his fingers into her smooth bottom he pulled her in even tighter, and that's when he sent her over. Joy rolled through him as he lay with his head between her thighs and listened to her cries.

  What a great start to the evening.

  * * *

  The thing about making love in the middle of the living room, Suzanne discovered, was that there were no covers to pull up afterward. She and Greg had rearranged themselves so that they were curled in each other's arms, but an afghan would have helped keep her from feeling quite so exposed.

  Greg didn't seem bothered at all. He smoothed her hair and kissed her. "That was amazing. You are amazing."

&n
bsp; "You, too," she said.

  He looked into her eyes. "And?"

  This guy didn't miss a trick, she thought. "And now I feel really naked lying here on the sofa."

  He chuckled. "Not a problem. Rome wasn't built in a day."

  "You mean that eventually I'll become a nudist?"

  His chuckle became a laugh. "I don't know. Maybe. That's never interested me, but if it intrigues you, then—"

  "It doesn't! I can't imagine walking around outdoors with no clothes on."

  He gave her a quick kiss. "I can imagine that. I just wouldn't want anybody to be there except you. Now come on, let's get dressed. I want to take you where there are people, and for that we need clothes."

  "Okay." She stood and quickly gathered her clothes from the floor. Taking them off in the living room hadn't seemed nearly so intimate as putting them on with Greg watching. "If you don't mind, I'll dress in my bedroom. I might take a quick shower, too."

  "If you want." He looked amused. "Want me to go back to my apartment and take one? Sort of start over?"

  She backed toward the bedroom, holding her clothes in front of her. 'That seems kind of silly. I'm sure you're fine. I just…"

  "Go ahead." Already wearing his navy briefs, he'd plopped down on the sofa to put on his socks. "Do whatever you like to feel comfortable. When you're finished, I'll come in and comb my hair."

  She appreciated his sensitivity in giving her some space. "Thanks, Greg. I suppose I'm not making sense. After what we just … did … you're probably wondering why I'm suddenly feeling—"

  "I'm not wondering that at all." He fixed a warm gaze on her. "You don't have to tell me that you stepped out of your comfort zone just now. I'm forever grateful that you did, but I can understand if that makes you a little nervous. Take your time."

  What an incredible guy. She had the urge to run over and kiss him, but doing that while she was clutching an armload of clothes over her nakedness wouldn't be the smoothest maneuver she'd ever tried. "Thanks." She smiled at him. "I won't be long."