The Christmas Stranger

by Beth Cornelison

  She grunted and elbowed him in the ribs. “Not bad? It’s beautiful!”

  He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, it is. And so are you.”

  Holly’s breath caught. She angled her head to look up at him, not certain she’d heard him right. But the desire and affection that glowed in his eyes told her she hadn’t imagined his compliment. An answering heat sluiced through her.

  Matt slid an arm to her waist and drew her closer. Every place her body brushed his, her nerve endings crackled and her blood seemed to thicken, pulsing heavily through her veins.

  “Now…where were we?” he asked, his voice dipping low in seductive tones.

  “About right here.” Holly tunneled her fingers into his hair, capturing his head and rising on her toes to caress his lips with hers.

  A rumble of pleasure reverberated deep in his chest, and Holly absorbed the vibrations as she pressed closer, leaning into their kiss. His hand skated from the small of her back to cup her bottom, pulling her hips flush with his—and the hard ridge that telegraphed his desire for her.

  She’d shared so much of herself with Matt in the past weeks. Her home. Her hopes. Her heartaches. But that superficial connection wasn’t enough anymore. She craved something deeper, more personal, more intimate. A clamoring need flashed through her—to feel his skin on hers, to have his hands stroking her, to take him inside her.

  She tugged his shirt free from his jeans. When she skimmed her hands beneath the fabric and over the width of his warm bare back, he tensed and hissed through his teeth. Pulling back from their kiss, she raised a querying look.

  He tugged one cheek up in a lopsided grin. “Your hands are cold.”

  Holly bit her lip. “Sorry.”

  He nudged her chin up for another kiss. “Don’t worry. We’ll warm them up.”

  Without warning, he caught her behind the knees with one arm and swept her off her feet. Cradling her in his arms, he headed for the stairs.

  Holly’s pulse throbbed, and her body hummed with anticipation.

  “If this isn’t what you want—” he said, climbing the steps two at a time, “—tell me.”

  Holly entertained only the briefest image of Ryan in her head, before shoving it aside and focusing on the blue fire in Matt’s loving gaze.

  Ryan was her past.

  Matt was the present. Here and now. Heat and desire. A chance to move forward.

  In answer, she fingered open the top button of his shirt, then the next. “I still have condoms in my bedside stand we can use.”

  He nodded. “Perfect.”

  Instead of her bedroom, Matt carried her to his guest room and set her feet on the floor.

  “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  While he retrieved the condoms, her attention gravitated to the queen-size bed where the sheets were still unmade and rumpled from his night’s sleep. A fresh wave of tingling expectation coursed through her.

  Matt was back in seconds, tossing a couple foil packets on the bed and pulling her back into his arms. He dipped his head and kissed her deeply. As his tongue danced with hers, her knees trembled so hard, she had to lean into him for support.

  Holly dug her fingers into the corded muscles of his arms, straining nearer, savoring every sweet stroke of his restless hands on her back, her bottom, her arms. Finally, he pulled at her sweater, and with sure hands, he dragged the soft top up and off, helping her free her arms from the long sleeves.

  The cool nip of air on her overheated skin heightened her anticipation, and her nipples beaded beneath her plain, white satin bra. He raked an appreciative gaze over her, his eyes darkening to the navy shade of the sky at dusk. His hands molded and shaped her breasts, thumbing the peaks before he pressed openmouthed kisses to the upper swell at the edge of her bra.

  This time when her knees buckled, they tumbled together onto his bed, and the weight of his body covering her kicked her senses into overdrive. Holly wrapped her legs around Matt’s hips, angling her body to rub against his groin. Hot sparks flashed through her, coalescing in her womb, and another groan of satisfaction rumbled in Matt’s throat.

  He dragged the straps of her bra down and thumbed the front clasp open with finesse. Shoving the bra out of his way, Matt kissed his way across her bare breast until he covered the nipple with the heat of his mouth. His tongue lashed her sensitive flesh, shooting pure pleasure through her. He treated her other breast to the ministrations of nimble fingers, plucking, rolling and massaging her. The sizzling need built, and she arched her back, offering fuller access to his questing hands.

  Not bothering with the rest of his buttons, Holly bunched his shirt in her palms and dragged it over his head, exposing the expanse of his chest to her exploration. Soon his pants and hers followed the other discarded clothes to the floor. She slid along his naked body, glorying in the sensual feel of warm skin on skin, the glide of his muscled angles against her soft curves. The contact drove her closer to the edge of control. Her body shook, ready to fly apart at any moment.

  But Matt wasn’t ready to give her the climax of which she teetered on the edge. He backed off the frenzied pace, the flurry of hands and mouths and intertwined bodies.

  “Matt, now…please,” she rasped, clinging to him and raining kisses along his throat and chin.

  “There’s no rush,” he whispered, brushing his lips over the shell of her ear with butterfly strokes. “I want to savor you, memorize every detail of how you look, how you feel.”

  His fingers drew lazy circles on her hip, around her navel, down to her thigh. She sucked in a sharp breath as his hand skimmed over her bottom and the small of her back. A tiny whimper, half impatience, half pleasure escaped her throat. His kisses followed a similar leisurely tour of her body, teasing and enticing and bringing her to higher levels of sensation than she’d ever known.

  Surrendering to his slower pace, she explored every tempting inch of his taut skin. When he’d moan his enjoyment, she’d catalog the erogenous spot for future reference then nibble and caress the sensitive point until he, too, trembled with need. The curve of his throat. The tip of his hip bone. The palm of his hand.

  When they’d endured all of the sweet torture they could, he retrieved a condom, sheathed himself and settled between her legs. With a slow, sensual thrust, he joined their bodies, their souls. The rhythmic motion of their coupling built the drumming pulse inside her, wound the need tighter, until she shattered in a sweet oblivion.

  “Holly…” he whispered, his lips pressed to her ear, as his body shuddered and his arms tightened around her. “Precious Holly.”

  Neither of them moved for long moments afterward. His breath, sawing raggedly in her ear, calmed, and her scampering pulse steadied.

  The sun had long ago faded outside, leaving the guest room completely dark, when Matt whispered, “Stay with me tonight.”

  The choice was easy. She wasn’t nearly ready to leave the warmth, the bliss she’d found in his arms.

  She could wait until morning to face the inevitable questions of where their relationship would go from here. For now, she was at peace.

  Matt stared into the inky darkness, Holly’s heartbeat a steady bumping against his chest as she lay in his arms. Recriminations nipped at his thoughts like a vicious little dog biting his ankles.

  He should have been completely honest with her before they’d slept together. He’d taken advantage of her trust. She deserved to know the truth about his connection to her late husband.

  Guilt and regret slid through him, souring the sweet joy of making love to Holly.

  He’d blown his best chance to level with her, and now he stood a greater chance of hurting her when he told her the truth, when he exposed his deception.

  And he had no choice now. He had to come clean with her.

  They’d moved their relationship to a new level, and he had a moral obligation to give her all the facts. He was overdue giving her the truth.

  Matt buried his nose in her hair
and inhaled the intoxicating herbal scent of her shampoo. She stirred as she slept, and he kissed her temple, quieted her with a stroke of his palm over her bare shoulder.

  He’d been wrong to invest so much of himself in Holly. He had no right to think they had a future together when he had nothing to offer her. When he couldn’t even tell her the truth of who he was.

  Pain sliced through him and tangled with the warmth Holly had planted in his heart. He had no one to blame but himself for the heartache he knew would come. He’d wronged the woman he was falling in love with.

  When Holly learned the whole truth about his past, he prayed she could find a way to forgive him.

  Chapter 11

  Holly drifted through the next couple of days on cloud nine. When she was at school, her thoughts strayed frequently to Matt, and she looked forward to fireside dinners with him and long nights in each other’s arms.

  When he seemed distant or troubled at times, she excused his pensive reticence. The whirlwind pace of their relationship sometimes had her stepping back to catch her breath, as well. But she relished the rush of excitement, the exhilaration of their deepening relationship. The growing bond she had with Matt felt…right.

  Late that week, while she was putting the finishing touches on dinner and Matt was outside gathering wood to build a fire, a loud knocking jarred her out of a cheery verse of “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.” Still humming under her breath, Holly answered her door and found Robert, in uniform, standing on her front porch. He gave her an uneasy look, his hands shoved in his back pockets. “Can we talk?”

  Still unwilling to dismiss the disaster of Thanksgiving, she folded her arms over her chest. “About what?”

  Robert nodded his head toward the door. “May I come in?”

  Stepping back, she let him inside. As she led him into the family room, Holly reminded herself that this was Ryan’s family. For Ryan’s sake, she took a deep breath and battled down the resentment that bubbled inside. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  He pulled off his gloves and pocketed them. “Sure.”

  He followed her into the kitchen, and when she opened the refrigerator, he glanced over her shoulder. “What time is it?”

  She gave him a puzzled frown and flipped her wrist to check her watch. “Ten after six.”

  “Good, then I’m off duty.” He reached past her and snagged a beer from the top shelf.

  “I don’t think—” Holly began, knowing alcohol wouldn’t help the conversation she needed to have with Robert, but he’d already popped the cap and taken a swig.

  With a sigh of resignation, she swallowed the rest of her argument as she pulled out a diet cola for herself.

  As they strolled into her family room, Robert glanced around at her decorations and smiled. “The place looks nice. You’ve been busy.”

  Holly took a seat in a chair across from Robert. “Thank you. Matt helped me.”

  Her brother-in-law stiffened slightly when she mentioned Matt’s name. “Actually, Rankin is the reason I’m here. I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. You were a guest in my home, and I didn’t make you feel welcome.”

  Holly shifted in her seat and eyed Robert. “I’m not worried about me. Families have disagreements from time to time. You get over it and move on. But you invaded the privacy of somebody that I care about. You went behind my back and abused the power of your position trying to dig up dirt on somebody who’s been nothing but kind and helpful to me. Your intrusion was uncalled-for. That’s what you should be apologizing for.”

  Robert squared his shoulders as a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Did you ask him about his name? Did you ask him why there’s no record of his past?”

  Holly lifted her chin. “I did.”

  Robert arched an eyebrow and took a sip of his drink. “And?”

  “He changed his name three years ago, unofficially, because his real name had been dragged through the mud. He was looking for a clean start.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Robert leaned forward and braced his arms on his knees, letting his beer bottle dangle from his fingers. “So who is he? What’s his real name?”

  “Matt Randall. He’s a pediatrician who practiced in Charlotte until his wife committed suicide several years ago. Because of circumstantial evidence, he was accused of killing her.”

  Color drained from Robert’s face. “My God.”

  Holly raised a hand to silence the argument she knew was coming. “He didn’t do it. The jury saw through the flimsy evidence and acquitted him. But by then the damage to his reputation had been done. He’d lost his practice, and his in-laws sued him for custody of his children.”

  Robert shifted his gaze to stare blankly at Holly’s Christmas tree. His stunned expression and the furrow in his brow told Holly he was deep in thought.

  “He moved to Morgan Hollow to find work. He’s been punishing himself for everything that happened, sending all of his money to his children, virtually living on the streets as some form of penance. He feels guilty about his wife’s death. He thinks he should have seen the signs and stopped her.”

  Setting his beer aside, Robert rubbed his chin and turned an incredulous look toward Holly. “Matt Randall?”

  Holly frowned. “Yes. Why?”

  He cocked his head and sent her a speculative glare. “Does that name not ring a bell for you?”

  Her pulse tripped. “Should it?”

  “Oh, yeah. It should.”

  “He said his case received a lot of media attention in Charlotte, and the venue had to be changed. Is that what you mean?”

  “Did he tell you which venue the case was changed to?”

  Robert’s calculating expression triggered alarms inside her. “What’s going on, Robert? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Jon said he thought he recognized Rankin, and now I know why. I remember his case. I remember well, because Ryan told me how frustrating the case was.”

  “Ryan told you? What are you talking about?” Holly’s nerves jangled.

  “So Rankin—or should I say Randall—didn’t tell you the best part?”

  Robert’s self-satisfied smile nettled her. Oxygen backed up in her lungs, and, somehow, she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

  “The Randall murder was Ryan’s case. Your husband prosecuted Matt Randall for murder.”

  A fist of shock squeezed Holly’s lungs, and she struggled to breathe. Denials rang in her head. Matt wouldn’t have kept something so critically important from her. Would he?

  But Robert’s confident expression assured her that Matt had deceived her. A gnawing disillusionment and betrayal bit her gut.

  “There…must be some…explanation,” she fumbled.

  Robert folded his arms over his chest and scoffed. “Oh, I’m sure there is. I’m just not sure it’s a reason you want to hear. Jon and I tried to warn you Rankin wasn’t who he said, that you shouldn’t trust him.”

  Holly dug her fingers into the seat cushion and sucked in a shaky breath. Her mind buzzed numbly as she tried to sort out the shocking truths Robert had tossed at her feet. “I just can’t believe….”

  “Oh, come on, Holly! Wake up and smell the horse manure this guy has been shoveling at you!” Robert shoved to his feet, gaping at her. As he stared at her, his expression morphed from disbelief to enlightenment, and his eyes widened. “Hell, Holly, you told Jon that the day you met him, Rankin followed you into the church where Ryan was killed.”

  A chill slithered down her spine. “S-so?”

  Robert spread his hands and raised his eyebrows as if the rest of his thought process should be obvious. “He sought you out. Has it occurred to you that maybe he had an ulterior motive?”

  “A motive?” The sinister turn of the conversation flooded her stomach with acid.

  “Retribution maybe? Revenge against the man who prosecuted him?”

  Holly could barely speak. Dread and disillusionment knotted her throat. “But Ryan is dead.”r />
  Robert waved her denial away. “So he goes after Ryan’s widow…poetic justice.”

  She shook her head vehemently, unable to accept Matt could be so vindictive. “He wouldn’t do that. Matt isn’t like that.”

  “Are you sure? Are you really willing to bet your life on it?” Robert shoved his hands in his pockets and glowered at her. Then his expression shifted again, and he stiffened his spine. “Dear God, Holly, the man is a vagrant.”

  “No.” Ice sluiced through her veins. Holly held up a hand and paced to the far side of the room, not wanting to hear Robert’s theory, knowing where his reasoning was headed. “He had a job, had an inexpensive place to live, he wasn’t homeless.”

  “He moved to Morgan Hollow right after he was acquitted—”

  “To take a construction job, not to track down Ryan!”

  Even as justifications and denials sprang from her lips, she remembered the watch Matt had that looked just like Ryan’s, and she questioned his silence about Ryan’s part in his prosecution. What else might Matt be hiding from her?

  Tears filled her eyes, and a searing pain slashed through her chest.

  “He had the means, the opportunity and a motive, Holly. In my line of work, coincidences usually aren’t coincidences. You have to be realistic. I know this guy has swindled you with his charm and good looks, but—”

  Holly bristled. “Stop!”

  Fury blazed through her veins—toward Robert…and herself. Because there was a grain of truth to his insinuation. She had fallen for Matt’s warmth and sex appeal. She’d excused his earlier reticence, then when he had finally opened up, she’d believed every word he had told her about his past without reservation. But how much of what he said was true? Had he played on her emotions?

  Robert sent her a sympathetic look. “I know this has all been a shock to you, but now that you know the truth, you have no excuse to keep him around. In fact, we have every reason to look more closely at exactly who Randall is and why he’s here.”

  Holly sank slowly to her chair, trembling to her core. Before she could respond to Robert, she heard the back door open and heavy footsteps approaching the family room.