Read Once Upon a Christmas Online

Authors: Lisa Plumley

Tags: #christmas, #lisaplumley, #lisa plumly, #lisa plumely, #lisa plumbley, #contemporary romance, #Holidays, #romance, #lisa plumley, #Anthology

Once Upon a Christmas (34 page)

BOOK: Once Upon a Christmas
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And he was wrong.

As though reading her thoughts, Dylan tugged her hand. “Let’s
go, Sweetiepie. Your
husband
is starving.”

Stacey stumbled from the high Jeep seat, flew across the
pavement, and wound up squished up against his chest. His arms enfolded her.
For a minute, their embrace felt so real and so right that she only stood
there, enjoying it.

Then common sense returned.

“Thanks for the game.” She twisted out of his
arms, then stepped back. She eyed the huge glass front doors of the hotel.

Safety? Or just another accident waiting to happen?

“It was my pleasure.”

He sounded as if he meant it. All the connotations his words
implied sent excitement shimmying down her spine.

“Now,” he went on, taking Stacey’s arm and heading
with her toward the hotel entrance. “Where do you want to go for lunch?”

She smiled up at him. “Hey. You
can
be taught!”

“Ouch!”

“Sorry.”

But not sorry he’d listened to her this morning. All during
their golf game, thoughts of their argument over the breakfast serenade had
churned in her head. It was a relief to know her efforts in speaking out hadn’t
all been for naught.

“Actually,” Stacey said as their reflections
loomed larger in the doors in front of them, “do you still have that
silver dollar we won last night? I thought we might take advantage of our good
karma and try our luck before lunch. What do you say?”

“Good idea.”

Letting go of her arm, Dylan lunged for one of the doors and
yanked it open for her. Mr. Chivalry. She liked that. Yammering noise and more
Muzak Christmas carols whooshed at her as Stacey stepped into the casino lobby.

“Feeling lucky, are you?” Dylan caught up with
her. “That’s good. So am I. Maybe we can pull off this honeymoon thing,
yet.” He fished around in his pockets, came up with their silver dollar
winnings, and tossed the coin in the air. “So, where should we spend this
baby?”

Stacey bit her lip and looked around the casino. In every
direction, rows of jangling slot machines gleamed in the multi-colored overhead
lights, stretching far into the corners of the room. Coins clanked into some of
their bins with the thrilling sound of winning, but obviously she couldn’t pick
those. They were already taken.

Yet suddenly, for some reason, it seemed very important that
she choose well. Important to maintain the new spirit of togetherness between
her and Dylan, important to validate the good luck they’d enjoyed so
far…important just for the fun of winning.

“I don’t know,” she said, turning to Dylan. “You
pick.”

“Oh, no. I’m not picking. If I wind up choosing a bum
machine, somehow you’ll make it sound as if I did it on purpose, just to wreck
your honeymoon charade.”

Did she really seem that eager to place the responsibility
for the success or failure of the honeymoon charade on his shoulders? So far,
most of it had been thrust in their laps, readymade in the form of the
honeymoon surprises and their stay in the suite. It wasn’t as though Dylan had
anything to do with that. After all, they’d
both
volunteered to help
Richard and Janie.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Stacey protested.

“It’s your idea. You pick.”

“Really. I don’t mind if you pick.”

“I don’t want to.”

She crossed her arms, feeling frustrated. “How about if
I close my eyes and hold out my hand, and you steer me toward one of the slot
machines? That way, technically I’m choosing, but—”

“Uh-uh.” Behind his sunglasses, Dylan looked as
though he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Will you just make a
decision already?”

“Fine.” Trying to look determined, Stacey strode
to the nearest row of slot machines and examined them. Maybe one of them would
seem luckier than the rest.

After a few minutes, Dylan said, “It’s just a dollar.
Go ahead and pick one. I thought you felt lucky.”

“I do.” But she wanted a lucky slot machine, too.
Unfortunately, no hunches were hitting her the way they did to people in the
movies. The machines all felt exactly the same.

Dylan touched her shoulder. “The luck isn’t in one of
these machines. It’s inside
you
. Go ahead. You can’t lose.”

Drawing a deep breath, Stacey examined the machines again.
She pointed to the one nearest her. “Okay. Eeny, meeney, miney, mo—”

“Arrgh!” Dylan slapped his forehead, knocking his
Diamondbacks cap askew. “I can’t believe it’s this hard for you to make a
decision.”

Defensively, she frowned at him. He was too busy wiping off
the blue zinc oxide smear on the heel of his hand to notice. “The rate of
inflation will rise before you manage to spend that silver dollar,” he
said, talking over her rhyme. “Our winnings will be worth ninety-nine
percent less by the time we get them.”

“…told me to pick the very best one,” Stacey
went on chanting at the glittering faces of the four machines in front of her. “And
you are not it!” There. One down. She started again, more quietly this
time.

“Done!” she announced a minute later. She slapped
her hand on the winning slot machine and shot Dylan a triumphant look.

Finally
his answering expression said. Stacey didn’t
care. Adopting her best gambler’s voice, she held out her hand, palm facing. “Hit
me.”

“Like, with a ruler?” he asked, grinning. “The
nuns at parochial school used to do that, but I don’t think you’ve—”

“Give me the money, you goofball.”

He pressed the silver dollar in her palm. Hefting it, Stacey
hesitated before dropping it in the slot machine. It felt heavy and important,
its weight a talisman of impending good fortune.

“Wait.” Looking suddenly serious, Dylan wrapped
his hand around hers, cradling the coin within their united grasp. Heat crept
from his fingers to hers, turning the silver warm in her palm. “First, a
kiss for good luck.”

He bent his head. Stacey’s heart pounded. He should have
looked ridiculous, still decked out as the ultimate tourist. She should have
felt silly, standing in the middle of a crowded casino looking the way she did,
with her hair all bunched up beneath her crumpled Gilligan hat and her blue
zinc oxide nose and her movie-star-incognito sunglasses.

But all she felt was beautiful.

Because of Dylan. Because of the way he touched her and
because of the caring in his voice. Tenderly, he raised one hand to the back of
her neck, and all at once time stood still.

The frenzy of the casino receded, leaving her aware of
nothing but the anticipation between them. Stacey leaned forward, mesmerized by
the gentle feel of his touch.
Kiss me
.

She pressed her palm to his chest and discovered his heart
beating as wildly as her own. Smiling, she raised her head. At the same moment
Dylan’s mouth met hers. His kiss felt hard and demanding, warm and giving, all
at the same time. It swept her mind clean of everything but this moment. This
man.

Their sunglasses clinked together and slid. His hat brim
jabbed at her forehead. Stacey didn’t care. She wanted more of his kiss, his
teasing tongue, his smooth nipping teeth that set her lips tingling with
pleasure. She returned his kiss with a passion that curled her toes—and, she
hoped, his. Her fingers tightened on his shirt, seeking support in a world
turned unpredictable and anchorless.

It was as though they’d never separated. Being in Dylan’s
arms felt familiar and bittersweet, flavored with the memories they’d shared
months before. His mouth opened over hers again, his tongue stroked over hers
again, and Stacey welcomed him with a fierceness that surprised her. She wanted
him.

Now. Later. Both, she didn’t care. She wanted Dylan and only
him…no matter what his loving cost her.

He ended the kiss. Awareness crashed back to her. The music,
the casino lights, and the murmur of voices all flooded her senses. Trembling,
Stacey withdrew her hand from his chest.

Dylan caught her wrist midway. Over the rims of his
sunglasses, his gaze pierced straight through her own smoky lenses. Suddenly,
she felt grateful for their partially concealing protection. Otherwise he’d
certainly see her emotions, too new and exposed to hide, reflected in her eyes.

Holy cow.
She wanted Dylan
. Even after all this time.

“Did you…?” His voice sounded rough. “Did
you just…? No.” He shook his head. “No. Never mind.”

“What?”

The steel in his grip and the heated rasp of his voice
intrigued her—made her almost unbearably curious. Had he felt the same things
she had? The closeness, the familiarity, the
attraction
?

Apparently not
, she decided when Dylan released her
wrist. He shoved his sunglasses back where they belonged, heedless of the smear
of blue that doing so added to his eyebrow, and tried a crooked smile.

“It’s nothing.” He opened his hand over hers and
unfolded her fingers to reveal the silver dollar within. Dylan nodded to the
slot machine behind her. “If that kiss didn’t bring us good luck, I don’t
know what will.”

He wasn’t going to tell her. Of course, that didn’t
really
matter, Stacey told herself. After the honeymoon weekend was over with, they’d
go their separate ways just like they had before. Wouldn’t they?

“Me neither.” She attempted to push down the
disappointment she felt with a smile of her own.
Two could play at this game
.
She raised the coin to the slot. “Ready?”

Dylan held up both hands with fingers crossed. “Ready.
If we win, I get to sleep in the bed tonight. Another night on that loveseat
and my knees will be permanently crooked.”

Stacey smiled. What were the chances of their winning with a
single coin? That was a goodwill gesture she could afford to make.

“Okay.” She pinched the coin between her
fingertips. “It’s a deal.”

Closing her eyes, she wished for good luck and dropped in
the money. Dylan reached around her and pulled the slot machine handle.

“Here goes.” He wrapped his arms around her waist
from behind, then propped his chin on her shoulder. Together, they watched the
mechanism spin.

A bunch of cherries locked in place on the center line.
Another bunch of cherries locked in place beside it. Two matches! Stacey held
her breath. She felt Dylan’s chest expand against her shoulder blades with an
indrawn breath of his own.

The mechanism spun. A third bunch of cherries spun onto the
line. Stacey blinked. They’d won?

They’d won.

Won big, judging by the high-pitched jangling of the slot
machine bells. Coins clanked into the bin and just kept coming, pouring in a
shower of silver. Numbly, Stacey stared at it for a second before reality
kicked in.

They’d won!

She shrieked and grabbed Dylan. He looked as shocked as she
did. “We won! We won!” she yelled, shaking him—probably shaking him
silly, but too excited to stop. “We won!”

“I get to sleep in the bed.” As he gaped at the
outpouring of coins, a huge grin spread over his face. “We won!”

Money kept on clanging into the slot machine bin. Other
casino patrons gathered around, pointing and talking and smiling. Somebody
shoved a plastic cup in Stacey’s hand, and she held it beneath the stream of
money. Another cup for her and two cups for Dylan weren’t enough to contain the
overflow.

By the time the casino management arrived to congratulate
them, the money had slowed to a steady ping-ping into the pile Dylan had
started collecting in his shirt. He held his shirt hem beneath the flow of
coins like a farm wife collecting eggs from the golden goose, grinning at least
as happily as Stacey was.

They were celebrities in an instant. Passersby offered their
congratulations, then raced to their own slot machines with renewed faith.
Winning could and did happen.

“Congratulations!” boomed the uniformed casino
employee who arrived, partner in tow.

He looked like a ringer for a professional basketball
player, tall and lean and with hair shaved to within an eighth of an inch all
over his head. His partner, a petite brunette with a digital camera hanging
from a strap around her neck, stepped forward, smiling too. They both seemed
thrilled that Stacey and Dylan had won in their casino.

The brunette put her hand forward and clasped both of theirs
in turn, patient enough to allow Dylan to juggle his shirtful of coins before shaking
his hand.

“Congratulations!” she echoed. “What are your
names?”

Names, names. For a second, Stacey felt too bedazzled to
say. During the handshaking, the basketball player lookalike had somehow guided
her and Dylan into a standing position beside their winning slot machine.
Between that and the unreality of having actually won, she could barely think
straight. Beside her, Dylan seemed in a similar state, cradling his shirtful of
coins with a beaming smile.

“Dylan Davis,” he said.

“Stacey Ames,” she said at the same time. Wow,
this was sooo neat! It had to be a good omen, a positive sign for their
honeymoon suite collaboration.

“Fine, fine.” The brunette made a note of it, then
raised her camera. She edged closer as Mr. Basketball explained how to cash in
their coins with the casino.

“You’re our fourth big winner of the day,” he
said, speaking with at least as much blatant cheeriness as the hotel desk clerk
brought to her job. Maybe chipper behavior was a hiring prerequisite for the
hotel.

“Stand a little closer to each other,” the
brunette instructed. “Okay. Now raise your cups—sir, your shirt will do
nicely, thanks—and say, ‘We won!’”

Obediently, Stacey and Dylan shuffled together. “We
won!” they shouted in unison.

It wasn’t until the brunette’s camera flashed in their faces
and blinded Stacey that she realized what they’d done less than a minute
earlier.

BOOK: Once Upon a Christmas
2.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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