Holiday Serenade, The (8 page)

That cocky smile flashed across his face. “What can I say? This hotel carries great flowers.”

And since ordering the flowers fell under her purview, she appreciated the compliment.

“So,” he continued, his golden eyes as inviting as shiny tree ornaments, “do you like it? I missed you so badly last Christmas that I wanted to celebrate being together this year. And I know you like elegant parties.”

She bit her tongue as she struggled with what to say. “Rhett, this is…lovely…more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. But you know we’re not a couple.”

His smile lost a few watts of its power. “Sure we are. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

Well, he was just as stubborn as ever.

The music danced around them, rather like her nerves. “Rhett—”

“And since I don’t like to beat a dead horse, I’m changing the subject,” he said with another bow, this one less grand. “I love your outfit. I wondered what you’d wear, and I have to admit, you look downright fetching as Mrs. Claus. It suits your kindness, your nurturing personality. What do you think of my new threads?” he asked, pulling on his lapels with both hands.

“They’re nice.” Understatement.

Even she couldn’t miss the ridges of muscle beneath his clothes, and just the thought of how she used to run her finger across every one of them when they were naked in bed made her mouth go completely dry. She plucked a glass of champagne from a nearby server, and Rhett did the same.

“Merry Christmas, Abbie,” he said, lifting his glass toward hers. “You’re my Christmas dream, and I love you. Keep remembering that.”

The words reminded her of something, but it was hard to concentrate when he was saying romantic things to her in this Winter Wonderland he’d created. He clinked their glasses together and took a sip.

Her hand didn’t seem connected to her body anymore, so she didn’t raise it to her lips. She held it loosely in her hand, paralyzed by the sheer force of Rhett’s will.

“Drink up, darlin’,” he urged. “I hate to leave you, but I need to go and see about something.” His hand darted out suddenly, and his thumb rubbed her rosy cheek. “I know I said I wouldn’t touch you until you asked me, but God, I want to kiss you senseless right now and make love to you with nothing but those spectacles between us. They’re beyond sexy.”

His eyes twinkled as much as the Christmas lights above their heads. Then he bowed again and strode off, leaving her with a lump of coal in her chest and desire pooling between her thighs.

***

Rhett downed the rest of his champagne on his way to the back. Exiting through a side door, he opened his arms when he saw his friend.

“Rye, it’s great to see you, man. Thanks again for coming.”

The country singer propped his leg up on a nearby chair, his hand on his waist. “You knew I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You’re finally letting me tell the world that the lyrics to my Christmas song were written by the wild poker champ, RBB. The sappiness has been ruining my rep. People think I’m a goner over some chick, like you are with Abbie.”

Rhett’s aw–shucks shoulder shrug seemed like the only fitting response. His friend was still getting used to seeing him in love.

“Everything is set up for you,” he told him, although Rye probably had run through everything since the hotel had brought him in the discreet entrance before the party had started, used for more famous guests. Rye’s part in the festivities was so secret that he was staying at Rhett’s house and not the hotel.

“I’m going to introduce you.”

And damn, if his hands weren’t sweating at the thought. A private declaration was one thing; a public declaration was another. But if they were going to have a future, their relationship had to come into the light. Abbie had wanted to keep it secret before, and to his mind, nothing good ever came from that. It was time to show her there was no turning back. By declaring his feelings for her in public, he was telling the world he was different. The old Rhett with the poker babes, and the
other
babes, was totally gone.

“You sure you want to do this?” Rye asked him, looking every inch a country music legend in the making in his black jeans, white T–shirt, and black cowboy hat. “You do realize it’ll change your free–wheeling rep.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. Let’s do this.” And then he clapped Rye on the back and opened the door to the ballroom again.

The buzz of conversation punctuated by raucous laughter blended in with the classical music the hotel had selected. They had done an incredible job all around.

“Folks,” he said into the microphone after he stepped onto the stage. “Thanks for coming out tonight. Merry early Christmas,” he said, straightening his tie, trying to find Abbie in the crowd. “I’m glad to be in one of my best friend’s hotels. Mac Maven, where in the heck are you?”

Hearing his friend’s shout, he looked to the right, blinking against the lights. Seeing Mac’s wave, he gave one in return. His strategy had worked. He now knew where Abbie was. She was standing with Dustin, Peggy, and the Hales.

“Since moving here in July,” he continued, “I have grown to appreciate this fine town of ours. Thanks for your warm welcome. I came here because of the love of a good woman, and tonight, I’m going to have a friend sing the song I wrote for her. Abbie Maven, Merry Christmas.”

When he gave the signal, Rye came through the cracked door and took the stage just as Rhett left it. The crowd went wild, even though there were only fifty guests. Rhett’s ears picked up only white noise as he tried to locate Abbie again. He skirted the edges of the ballroom until he was directly across the room from where she was standing. He leaned against one of the ridiculously cute nutcracker statues that had cost him an arm and a leg, a few nerves kicking up when he thought about his surprise, and how Abbie would react.

“How are y’all doing?” Rye called out to the cheering crowd. “It’s my honor to be here in Dare Valley tonight, and I have to say I’m glad I can finally tell the world that my friend, Rhett Butler Blaylock, wrote the Christmas love song I recorded and released that everyone’s been hearing on the radio. “The Holiday Serenade.” Ladies, let me set the record straight. I am
not
taken. But my friend, Rhett, is. Abbie, darlin’, give him another chance. I can promise you no one loves you more. Just listen to what he wrote for ya.”

And then Rye took a seat at the shining grand piano and played the opening melody, the white Christmas lights reflecting off the black veneer. Rhett had gotten Rye to agree to a piano ballad—as opposed to his usual, the guitar—and then his friend had worked his magic, keeping it simple and letting the words shape the music. His instincts were gold. The song had already hit number one on the charts.

Abbie’s eyes met Rhett’s, and in them he could see the usual struggle between longing and resistance. He didn’t approach her, but simply stood with his back to Rye, the crowd all around him enthralled by the song.

As Rye brought the song home with his deep baritone, you could have heard a pin drop in the ballroom.

Let me love you.
Serenade you.
My Christmas dream come true.

When Rye’s voice faded, the love of his life turned around and strode out, picking her way through the people behind her. Rhett cleared the door and ran after her, ignoring the hotel staff, who stopped what they were doing to watch him race through the main hall.

“Abbie,” he called out, his long legs eating up the distance between them.

And then she did something he’d never seen her do before. She started to run. A red bow from her outfit fell off as she reached the main stairs. Rhett jogged after her, fortifying himself, knowing where she was going: the Maven family suite.

There was going to be a battle.

He could feel it.

And he was ready.

Chapter 7

A
bbie reached the family suite and threw the door open so hard it bounced against the wall. Once she was inside, she yanked off her wig and heaved it across the room. A sound, part scream, part growl emerged from her throat.

She heard the door click like someone was entering the suite, and she clenched her hands, trying to gather control. She knew Mac wouldn’t let Dustin see her like this, but her older brother was probably coming to check on her.

When Rhett cleared the hallway and entered the living area, she couldn’t believe his gall.

“How dare you come in here!” she yelled, and for a moment, she thought about picking up one of the embroidered pillows on the gold tapestry couch beside her and throwing it at him.

“I have a key from all the time I’ve spent in here, remember? Abbie, why are you so upset?”

He was an idiot. “You know why!”

His tie wrinkled when he loosened the knot at his neck. “Okay, let’s talk about this. I didn’t do this to upset you. I simply wanted to show you how much I care about you, make a public declaration.”

Which she had never wanted. She strode over to him and thrust a finger into his chest. “What you did was embarrass me in front of the whole town. What in the world were you thinking?”

His hand covered the finger poking him, and he eased it away from him. “Didn’t you listen to the lyrics? I was trying to tell you how I feel about you.
Again.
Dammit, when are you going to finally admit to what’s between us?”

The tremble started at her feet. “I can’t. Why can’t
you
understand that?”

This time his fist punched the air. “Why? Tell me why, dammit. This discussion has been going on for months between us, in fits and starts. I know about Dustin’s father now, and I’m prepared to give up the poker babes for you. So make me understand. Why can’t we be together?”

The vein pulsed in his neck, and his face was flushed from his passionate retort, rather like it looked after they’d made love. The past year and a half of celibacy she’d endured suddenly began to seem interminable.

“We just can’t!” she cried out, not knowing what the heck to say after all this time. “I can’t explain it to you any more than I have.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Rhett cried, stepping so close she had to crane her neck more than usual, given his towering height.

That accusation again. Fear.

His body radiated heat, warming every part of her that seemed to have gone cold when she’d walked away from him.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said and turned, banging her knee into the coffee table behind her.

He grabbed her elbow and pulled her close. Those golden eyes peered deep into her soul. They were suddenly all she could see.

“I’ll ask you again. What. Are. You. Afraid. Of?”

Everything inside her snapped. “You,” she cried, shoving away his hands. “I’m afraid of you.”

Surely that would make him back up, but he stepped into her line of vision when she tried to circle around him, his outstretched arms keeping her in place.

“Why?”

“Leave me alone.” God, all she wanted to do was get out of there.

“No. Why?” he grabbed her arm and held her in place.

“Stop this.” And the plea was clear even to her ears.

“Tell me!”

She couldn’t stand it. “Because you make me want things, Rhett, and I know it can’t last. That you can’t keep this up.”

“So I make you want things? Good! Because, dammit, I want things too.” A bonfire burned in his eyes. “And I can keep it up. Haven’t I stayed here for months dishing out everything you could throw out?”

“You make me sound cruel,” she whispered and tucked her arms around her padded waist, suddenly realizing how ridiculous her outfit was. She was arguing with him dressed as Mrs. Claus sans the wig.

“You’re only protecting yourself,” he informed her.

A part of her gasped at his insight.

Then he lowered his head until their gazes clashed.
“No one
knows you better than I do, Abbie. No one. And I’m sick and tired of you refusing to admit that you love me.”

She couldn’t admit it. Ever. Once she did, there would be no going back.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

His hold tightened on her. “Tell me.”

“I won’t,” she said, lifting her chin, and considered kicking him in the shin. Rhett always made her come unglued, but tonight was something else.

“You love me, dammit. Why can’t you say it? Just once. Some days I feel like I’ve been left in the Mojave Desert outside of Vegas with no water. You’re killing me, Abbie. I love you, but God help me, I don’t know what more I can do. I can’t change who I am anymore than I already have. And if the song didn’t work…”

His total desolation destroyed her. She’d never seen him this hurt, and she couldn’t be the cause of it anymore.

Her arms latched around him before she could stop herself, and she pressed her body into his. “Then take what you need. I won’t have you hurt by this.”

His pulse beat steadily in his temple.
“You
take what you need. I told you when I arrived that I wouldn’t touch you unless you asked me. Ask me, Abbie,” he commanded, his voice all rough and dark.

The answer had been inside her all along, and she was tired of fighting it. “Touch me, Rhett.”

He yanked her the final inches toward him and slid those large, warm hands over her hips, caging her to him. “Always.”

Then his mouth covered hers, and their lips met heatedly, searching for connection, searching for a deeper union. He stripped her red velvet dress off without breaking contact with her mouth, ripping it at the seams when it wouldn’t fall as fast as he wanted.

After all this time, the passion between them exploded. The padding was torn off her body to reveal her slender shape, and when she stood in only her black heels and red panties, he slid to the floor in front of her and pressed his mouth to her stomach.

“It’s been so long, Abbie. I’ll try to make it last, but right now, I can’t promise this won’t be fast.”

His lips cruised over the indention of her hips as he slid off her panties. Her head fell back as she stepped out of them and her shoes.