Holiday Serenade, The (6 page)

His dark chuckle turned the tremors inside her into seismic waves of desire. “I thought about putting mistletoe up, but one, you never come here, and two, even if you did, I don’t want you to use mistletoe as an excuse when you finally ask me to touch you again.”

That revelation shook her to the core.

“Let me take your coat,” he said, moving behind her, his Southern manners on display.

She could feel the heat from his body, sense his tall, strong frame. When they were this close, she barely reached his collarbone. She elbowed him accidentally as she shrugged out of her coat.

“No need for anyone to get hurt,” he murmured.

Right. Like that hadn’t happened already. They were both hurting, although for different reasons.

His hands brushed the back of her neck, startling her. It had been so long since he’d given her an intimate touch, even if this one was purely G–rated.

“You smell good,” he mused. “Like always. When I was overseas, I bought some Chanel Cristalle in your honor. Sometimes when I was missing you, I would just spray it in my hotel room and close my eyes and imagine you were with me. I looked the perfume up online, actually, and one review called it a beautiful, cold stranger. It seemed pretty on point to me.”

Isn’t that why she’d chosen it? She wanted to be well groomed but aloof, but hearing his confession made her want to hang her head in shame.

And then her mind tracked back to the pink pearls he’d given her, the ones he’d bought for her last Christmas, never expecting to give to her.

She’d never been far from his thoughts, and the knowledge was as sweet as Christmas plum pudding.

Which reminded her. She hadn’t thanked him for the present. “Rhett, I wanted to say how beautiful the pink pearls are. Thank you.”

He just stared at her quietly for a moment. “I’m glad you like them. Let’s sit by the fire,” he said, hanging her coat in the closet.

She handed him her gloves, scarf, and hat, and after he put them away, they walked into the den together. With its tall, timbered ceilings and open spaces, the mountain cabin was more like a ski chalet. She’d only been here once before to drop Dustin off to hang out with Rhett. Usually Dustin drove himself, but he’d been grounded at the time. Plus, her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

The only difference in the decor was the twenty–foot Christmas tree garlanded with silver and gold ornaments and white lights, which was tucked against the back windows. The brown leather sofa and loveseat, earth–tone Mission rugs, and Western art were all as she remembered.

“Do you want some tea? Or do we need something stronger for this discussion?” he asked, his hand curved around the wooden beam that served as the demarcation point between the kitchen and the den.

“Tea would be fine,” she replied, folding her hands into prayer position so she wouldn’t feel so weird standing in his space.

Then she turned and spotted the gigantic TV on the wall. A poker tournament was on the screen, the action paused. “What are you doing with a tourney on?” she asked. She hadn’t heard about any major tourneys, and Mac usually told her about such things.

“Watching tape,” he called out.

Of course. Mac put his hours in studying players in old tournaments too.

She wandered into the kitchen. Rhett’s big hands covered a silver tea kettle, making her think he could crush it with one squeeze. He was so big and strong. Funny how his size had always made her feel sexy and cherished, especially since her first experience with sex had been getting date raped by Dustin’s father.

She hadn’t been with anyone else until Rhett… For years, sex just hadn’t interested her; deep down, she’d worried that she would have a flashback or something, that a big, strong man would scare her. But she and Rhett had known each other forever. He’d gotten into a few tussles, sure, but she’d never known him to be a violent man. And whenever he came to visit her, Mac, and Dustin—always with a gift for her son—something about him had just called to her…

When he came back from a run all sweaty and manly during one visit, nothing could have stopped her from finally taking what she wanted. Thankfully, he’d been of the same mind.

Deep down, she’d sensed his interest in her over the years, but had disregarded it.

Until that moment.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, resting his elbows on the blue granite kitchen island.

“Nothing,” she said, hoping her cheeks hadn’t turned red.

“You’re thinking about how it used to be between us, aren’t you? Hard not to, I suppose. I think about it all the time, and most days, it doesn’t feel so great.”

Suddenly it was like a chicken bone had gotten stuck in her throat. She coughed to clear whatever that was.

“We should celebrate,” he continued. “You finally came to my house
alone,
even if you did it with the intention of chewing me out.”

She stuffed her hands behind her because wringing them was making her wrists ache. “You shouldn’t have stipulated that I couldn’t be involved with the party, Rhett. It’s disrespectful to me, and sends the wrong message to the staff. What in the heavens are they going to think?” The last thing she wanted was people to talk about her.

“Personally, I don’t care, but since I knew it would upset you, I simply told Karen–whatever–her–name–is that I want you to enjoy the party because you’re a family friend. She understood. Leave it at that.”

Men thought everything was so simple sometimes. She almost wished she lived in their universe. “Rhett, is this party my present? Because if it is—”

Bent over at the waist with his elbows on the kitchen island, his pose beyond relaxed, he looked downright sexy. He was studying her intently. Like usual.

“Abigail, a party with fifty other guests is hardly a present. Please give me a little more credit.”

The tea kettle’s sharp whistle shot across the kitchen. Unlike most people who would dart forward to stop the sound, Rhett took his time, uncurling from the counter with an ease she envied. He never rushed anything. Even this thing between them. She hadn’t expected him to hold out this long.

“Aren’t you getting tired of living here, Rhett?” she decided to ask.

“Nope. I love being close to you.”

He pulled out a tin decorated with white and gold crisscrosses with a peach patch on the front. She’d know it anywhere.

“You just happen to have Caffè Florian?” she asked.

“Venetian Rose. It’s your favorite brand,” he responded with the flick of a hand. “Just because you haven’t come over here, doesn’t mean I haven’t prepared. I also have the Venice kind with jasmine, since I know you prefer green tea at breakfast.”

On the few occasions when Mac had been out of town for business and Dustin occupied with a strategically–arranged sleepover, Rhett had flown in for the night from Vegas, his former residence. They would make love from pretty much the moment he shut the door and backed her into the wall. In the morning, they’d make breakfast together, since he was always starving after the hours of sex play. She’d brew her tea and make him a dark roast coffee. Then they’d sip their beverages, read the newspaper, and eat the pancakes or omelets they’d cooked together. It had been eerily domestic.

“I started drinking the Florian Darjeeling,” he informed her. “Asia got me hooked on tea. Not a lot of coffee out that way.”

Tea seemed too tame for Rhett, too delicate. But he poured two cups of the rose petal tea for them all the same.

“You’re having some?”

His shrug almost seemed like an afterthought. “If I can’t taste you…”

Thank God she wasn’t holding her cup, or she would have burned her hand six ways to Sunday. “Don’t talk like that. It isn’t proper.”

“Well, don’t you sound like Scarlett O’Hara right now?” He chuckled, the sound as dark as the loose tea he’d used. “I said I wouldn’t touch you until you asked me. I didn’t say I wouldn’t talk about it. Especially when it’s just us around.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m leaving if you do.”

The corner of that gorgeous, sensual mouth tipped up. “I believe you just might, so I won’t call your bluff. Now, let’s go sit down in the den, and you can chew at me all you want.”

Since she’d used her teeth on him in some rather wild moments in the past, she knew it was a double entendre. Her toes curled in her boots in a desperate attempt to stay grounded.

He took her tea cup and his and left the kitchen. She trailed behind him, her eyes lowering to his ridiculously firm butt. God, how she’d loved having her hands on it.

When he paused, she followed suit. “Why did you stop?” she asked.

Looking over his shoulder, he said, “I know you’re looking at my ass. I wanted to make sure you had your fill.”

Had she thought her tremors were like an earthquake earlier? Then surely this was the aftershock. She had to clear her throat before she could issue a comeback. “You’re full of it.”

The murmur he gave was low and sexy. “I’d rather be full of you. Do you want a glance at the front too? I recall you saying both my front and back sides were exceptional.”

She bit her lip at the heated flashes that ran through her mind, one of which involved her on her knees in front of him. “I told you I would leave if you kept talking like this.”

“You looked.”

How could she not?

“Fine,” he said when she focused all her energy on giving him her
Don’t mess with me
look, the same one she gave Dustin.

Rhett set their cups on an old Mission–style coffee table in dark mahogany.

She wisely took the loveseat next to the couch, not trusting herself to sit next to him. “Rhett, you know there was no one else but you after…what happened to me with Dustin’s father, right?”

Maybe it was because it had been on her mind earlier, but the words just popped out of her mouth. They’d never talked about her past relationships, largely because there hadn’t been any. Plus, she’d been embarrassed in light of his reputation with the ladies. Thankfully, it had never been an issue. They’d been so obsessed with each other that she hadn’t questioned his faithfulness for the six months they were together. He’d called or texted her every day, telling her he was thinking about her. Trusting him had been easy. Rhett didn’t say things he didn’t mean.

He carefully lowered the tea cup he’d picked up, and she was shocked to see it tremble in his large hand.

“I didn’t know that until now, although I suspected what we had wasn’t typical for you. I mean, I knew you had a son, but I’d never seen you with anyone. I’m honored, Abbie. I’m sorry I can’t say the same thing about me, but there’s no one else but you now.”

God, why did he always have to say the sweetest things when she was trying… “I didn’t tell you to make you feel bad,” she said, not exactly sure now why she’d brought it up. Confusion had become her new normal. “I only wanted you to understand…”

And in that minute, she didn’t know what she wanted him to understand. It was like the answer was stored in a lockbox, even from herself.

“Yes?” he said, settling the cup of tea against his thigh, his face impassive.

She shook her head and reached for her tea. The answer was out of reach. “Never mind.”

His stillness reminded her of how he kept his body at the table at a tournament when the pressure was crushing.

“You wanted me to understand it’s unusual for you to be with a man, and something you don’t take lightly. I know that. Always have. Now, if you’re telling me because you’re plagued with self–doubt and have forgotten how hot and sexy it was between us, then let me assure you. It was. I’d be happy to remind you, Abbie.”

“No, I haven’t forgotten how it was.” And wasn’t that her fear? That the fire would rage as hot and all–consuming as it had before, making her do things that were out of character, making her go a little crazy.

“Good. I’d be upset if you had. And now we need to change the subject. My body is responding pretty typically to this line of talk.”

She could tell it was, from the tense line of muscles showcased by his thermal shirt to the rigid line in the front of his jeans.

Things unused to clenching in desire were moved as much by the words he’d used as the velvety voice in which he’d said them.

The rose scent tickled her nose when she raised her cup to her mouth with both hands and took a sip of her tea. “Rhett, why can’t you understand? Getting rid of the poker babes isn’t going to make us a better match.”

He sunk lower into the couch. “That’s not true anymore. All of the changes on the outside are meant to convince you that we
are
meant to be together. But you’re right. Deep down, the outer doesn’t matter diddly unless the inner is there. Wow! I almost sounded wise or something. I’ll have to tell my mama. She’ll be so proud.”

Her raspberry blew out easily. “The inner isn’t enough.”

“Bullshit,” he said, his voice no longer playful. “It’s all there is. We either love each other, or we don’t. And since we do, the rest is just window dressing. But you clearly don’t trust that.”

“Rhett—”

He leaned forward. “There’s no way you’ve stopped loving me. You couldn’t tell me that you didn’t love me when I arrived in July, and you can’t tell me now. If anything, you love me more. As I do you. Being this close to you has helped me notice a few things I missed in the past.”

Her tea cup suddenly seemed too heavy, so she set it down on the coffee table. “And what’s that?”

Those golden eyes seemed to burn into her.

“I knew you were a wonderful mother, a loyal sister, and a kind person. I knew you were creative and passionate about what you do at Mac’s hotels and how detailed and organized you are about practically everything.”

Yeah, he’d always seen the real her.

He ran his hand through his hair and pursed his lip for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether to speak. “And I also knew that you made nearly every decision in your life based on fear.”

She inhaled sharply at his accusation. Okay, that hurt. And it so wasn’t true. Firming her shoulders, she prepared to give him a piece of her mind.

He held up his hand, stopping her.