Countdown To A Kiss (A New Year's Eve Anthology)

by Mara Jacobs

  Chapter Twelve

  Tess couldn’t remember ever being so turned on.

  From the gentle buzz from the champagne to the heat of the bubbly charging up around her, dancing over her breasts and teasing her nipples, to the fact that she was completely naked and a man she’d lusted after for years was completely dressed…and massaging her foot….She was a live wire.

  What the hell did she have to do to get him to join her?

  She’d had to put her glass aside for fear it would fall from her nerveless fingers. He made her mouth water and her hormones ping.

  And Wilder was just sitting there, on the edge of the tub, massaging her foot, carrying on a conversation as if they’d met on the street. Still in his evening clothes, he appeared relaxed—deliciously rumpled and disordered. His white shirt had splashes on it from the hot tub and the sleeves were rolled up to expose muscular arms. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons, revealing a vee of dark hair and the curve of his throat. He must have shaved this morning, because the stubble was already darkening the fine, square jaw.

  “The curse?” He glanced over at her, his gray eyes contemplative. “You’re the curse.”

  “Me?” That threw her for a loop. “How so?”

  He released her foot and it slid back into the water as he rose and walked over to pick up her glass. Now he was standing behind her, so she had to tip her head back and look over. Why won’t he take off his damn shirt?

  He took a drink then refilled the flute from the last bottle she’d brought in here and set it back down next to her. “Has it occurred to you that for the last ten years, we’ve been…together, or otherwise in touch, on just about every New Year’s Eve?”

  She thought about that, thought about the last few years. “Well, there was that first one—when we first started the bet. When I kissed you.”

  “Yes.” His voice was hardly more than a breath. “That was the beginning of it. Ever since then, you’ve totally ruined my New Year’s Eves.”

  She nearly surged up out of the water in disbelief, but caught herself at the last minute. Even though it was getting hot in the tub, she felt a little awkward about exposing herself. This was Johnny Wilder, but this was a different Johnny Wilder than she remembered.

  Different from the one who thought of her as intimidating. Who texted suggestive comments instead of whispering them in her ear.

  No doubt about it: he’d changed. Oh, he’d changed. He’d become a man.

  And she realized…I want this man. This gallant, brave, sensitive man who’d risked his life for his country but would kiss his mother’s feet if she asked him to. Who’d been in her life…but not quite visible enough, not quite assertively enough…for ten years.

  She collected her thoughts, drawing in a long, slow breath…just enough to lift the tops of her breasts from beneath the rumbling water. When she saw his eyes go right there, and his knuckles turn white, she knew there was still more than a chance.

  “So, I’ve ruined your New Year’s Eves. Want to explain further?”

  “Well, there was that first one. And then the year after, we all hung out—you and me and Grat and Cara and my date and your date. And that was fine. But I remembered that kiss, you know.”

  “Yeah. I think you’re exaggerating. How did I ruin that one particularly?”

  “Well, I blame you for the fact that I haven’t gotten laid on New Year’s Eve for ten years. Including that one. At the time, I didn’t know it was because of the Curse of Tess Devine, but now in retrospect….And then the year after,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over her protests, “we were here all night—remember? With the flood? I sent Kaylie Schwartz and her 34 double-Ds home alone and came in to help you. You blew my mind that night, you know—out here in your evening gown and boots. You could’ve been home in bed…but you were here. Working.”

  “Of course I remember. That was…that was one of my fondest memories. And you were here too, of your own volition. And you know…I almost kissed you that night. When you dropped me off at home? I was just about to lean in, then I thought…no. He’s not interested. He’s dating Kaylie. And I was afraid I’d ruin our friendship—which I really did enjoy.”

  The look of consternation on his face was a balm to the fact that she’d just made that confession. “Well, that sucks. Because I was trying to work up the nerve to do the same thing.” He sat on the edge of the tub, looking down at her, his feet on the floor.

  “What about the year I asked you out? How could I have ruined your night?” she demanded, her mouth suddenly dry. His hand was right there, propped on the edge next to her, showing off a strong, sturdy wrist and muscled arm. “You blew me off.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to see you, Tess. It was too difficult…especially since you never seemed to respond to my overtures.”

  “Your texting overtures? Really? You were totally drunk that night—you probably don’t even remember what you said to me. How was I supposed to take you seriously? Or the year…the night…you know,” she felt her cheeks warm. “The night you stayed at my parents’ house. You were smashed. You were saying all sorts of things…you probably don’t remember any of it. And it’s just as well I didn’t fall for it. I know you were just trying to get in my pants. It’s what you do. You’re an opportunist. I know that about you.” Which was why she really couldn’t believe anything he said. “You were going off to the service, I was getting married—it was a last-ditch effort. But I knew that.” I wanted to believe you, but I knew better.

  “Tess,” he said, his voice a low, careful drawl. “I remember everything I’ve ever said to you. Or texted you.” His gray eyes held hers and she suddenly couldn’t breathe—his gaze was deep and intense and hot. Something deep inside her quivered, sharp and hard. “And I meant it.”

  Then he quirked a cocky grin, his eyelids sliding half closed, his voice dropping even lower. “Trust me, if I’d just been trying to get in your pants…I would have.”

  Tess looked up at him, aware of all sorts of crystalline pieces settling into place in the back of her mind. “The problem is,” she managed to say, even though her heart was racing and her pulse had spiked and she felt as if she were about to make some great reveal, “I know you too well…I know how you are with women. I know better. And it’s okay. So why don’t you climb on in here with me and let’s see how amazing we could be together. It’s been ten years…let’s finish it.”

  His eyes glittered. “Not interested in that, Tess. I might have been once, but not anymore.”

  Her lungs seized up, tightened, and she couldn’t breathe. Her vision turned dark with mortification. Her lips formed a half-smile that she tried to make cool and collected, but inside she was reeling. “All right then,” she managed. “Consider the curse broken.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m in love with you, Tess.” He said it in that low, sexy drawl.

  But he was looking at her, and the words were clear—and this time she knew she’d heard it correctly. But he repeated it, taking her hand and putting it to his chest where his heart thumped madly. “I’m in love with you. But I’m no longer intimidated by you. I’m no longer afraid to say it. Being at war changes a man. You learn what’s important and to go after what you want—no settling for second best. For leftovers or after thoughts. And so…if I climb in that tub…I expect to spend every New Year with you for the rest of our lives.”

  “Then what,” she said, reaching for his shirt, “the hell are you still doing up…there?” And she pulled him toward her, down to kiss her—and he came easily—and then, in a long, slow movement, down into the water.

  When their lips parted, damp and hot from the steamy water, she looked into his eyes. “So can you stop calling me your curse now?” she asked, sliding her hand down along a very solid belly to the very interesting package behind his zipper. Oh yes. She grinned, exploring behind his wet trousers.

  He sighed, the cords of his neck tightening as she found him and cup
ped him with her fingers. “Right,” Wilder said, dipping his mouth to nuzzle a spot right next to the hollow of her throat. “My curse…and my blessing. Happy New Year, Tess.”

  “Happy New Year, my love.”

  ~*~*~

  ~*~

  Read how Tess Devine’s spunky Aunt Helen

  helps catch a murderer in Colleen Gleason’s

  The Cards of Life and Death.

  ~*~

  When Diana Iverson inherits her great-aunt's home in Maine, she doesn't expect to encounter a handsome neighbor...or a deck of haunted Tarot cards.

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  Colleen Gleason is the international bestselling author of the Gardella Vampire Chronicles. She’s written more than twenty novels for Penguin Group, HarperCollins, Harlequin and Chronicle Books, and her books have been translated into seven languages.

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  Annabelle

  Dedicated with love to

  Harry & Jody Ford

  One of the world’s great romantic couples.

  The Keeper of the Debutantes