Unwrapped (18 page)

Finally, it was Christmas Eve, and everything was in
readiness. All she needed was Derrick.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Stepping off the plane at John Wayne International Airport,
his body weak with exhaustion, Derrick made his way down the long hallway into
the terminal and through the slow lines at Customs. Even close to eleven
o'clock on Christmas Eve, the airport was crowded with holiday travelers.

All those kids had better get to bed if they wanted Santa to
show up, Derrick thought, watching yet another young family trot past. His own
nieces and nephews would be snoozing soundly by now if his sisters had had
anything to say about it.

The past few weeks felt like months. He'd missed his family
and his friends, and missing Mia hadn't gotten any easier with the distance
between them. He was afraid getting over her was going to take a hell of a lot
longer than he'd first thought.

Forever, probably.

Unless he figured out a way to win her over after all. He
was no quitter, and he'd already waited eight years. He wasn't ready to give up
on her entirely. But in the meantime. . . In the meantime, it just sucked.

At least his business had gone well. He'd been fooling
around with the idea of freelancing his services for a while—helping
major corporations prevent computer security breaches. He was lucky—he
enjoyed his current position, had fun developing games. He liked the people he
worked with and the creative atmosphere, but he wanted more of a challenge.
After his meetings in Tokyo and some in-depth conversations with his boss in
Irvine, he now had the best of both worlds. He wouldn't have to leave his job
to do the security thing on the side, and it would provide that challenge he'd
been seeking, not to mention the extra income. A lot of extra income.

Collecting his luggage, he turned to leave, intending to
grab a cab, only to find Allison standing directly behind him. She had a big
sign with his name on it in her hands, a Santa hat on her head, and a megawatt
smile on her insanely beautiful face.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" he asked, giving
her a hug.

"It's Christmas Eve. I thought it'd be nice to give you
a lift home."

"Thanks." He hugged her again. "You didn't
have to do that. This is really out of your way."

She shrugged and shouldered his carry-on. "Consider it
my good deed for the year. I needed at least one to show Santa when he swings
by later." She winked, making him grin.

"So how is everyone?" he asked. He thought he'd
managed to keep his voice casual, but Allison shot him a shrewd look as they
made their way to her car.

"Good," she answered, her expression now carefully
neutral. "I'm working on Jeff and Greg's wedding plans. Oh, and my New
Year's Eve gig got canceled, so I'm having a bash at my place instead. Be there
or be square."

Thinking of Mia and the last party at Allison's house, he
waggled his head, noncommittal. He wasn't in party mode, but spending New
Year's alone didn't appeal to him, either. He'd play it by ear.

They talked about his trip and Allison's business on the way
home, after he declined her offer of a late dinner out first. He wanted nothing
more than to drop head first into bed for at least twelve hours. He was
supposed to be at his mom's by mid-afternoon for Christmas dinner, but he was
debating skipping the meal. She'd have her hands full with his siblings and
their respective families, anyway, and he could always go over later.

By the time Allison pulled into his driveway, it was almost
midnight.

Home, sweet home, he thought, wishing he'd been heading to
someone else's house tonight instead. What was Mia doing right now? He sighed
mentally. That was a fruitless line of thought.

At least his home looked festive with the Christmas lights
on all over the house, including the big tree in the window, since they were on
timers.

"Thanks again for the lift," he said after he'd
grabbed his bags out of the trunk. He leaned in Allison's open driver's-side
window to peck her cheek. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Derrick." Allison waved, a
cat's-got-the-canary smile on her face as she pulled away. Someone was in the
Christmas spirit, at least.

He punched in the security code to enter through his garage,
then into the house, dropping his luggage in his laundry room. He'd deal with
it later.

Heading toward the stairs, the strains of Christmas music
floating on the air finally caught his attention. Darlene Love's
Christmas
(Baby Please Come Home),
by the sound of
it. What the hell—had he left the stereo on? Switching direction
mid-stride, he turned into the living room.

And everything inside him went haywire.

The stereo was indeed on, as were the Christmas tree lights
he'd noted from outside. The presents he'd wrapped before leaving for Tokyo
still sat beneath the tree. But a new one had been added to the mix.

Mia, wrapped in ribbons and bows and not much else, a
tremulous smile on her Christmas-red lips.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Waiting for Allison to bring Derrick home from the airport
was one of the hardest things Mia had ever done. By turns nearly catatonic with
fear that he might reject her or bouncing off the walls with anticipation at
their reunion, she'd finally devolved into a quivering mass of nerves that
didn't know which way was up.

His home reflected the man perfectly—strong, clean
lines, with simple, sturdy furniture in bold colors. Warm and comfortable, made
for relaxing. She'd always felt at home in his space, but tonight the tension
had kept her pacing as Derrick often did when agitated.

Allison had helped her get ready in the tissue-thin negligee
of shimmering Christmas green trimmed with narrow bands of matching velvet. It
gave away more than it concealed, even with the addition of many looping
strands of specially-made bright red satin, all tied in bows and wrapped around
her like garland on a tree.

But Derrick had to get close enough to read the printing on
those satin ribbons. That was part of the plan.

Now he was home, and her moment of reckoning had arrived.

Watching him watching her, Mia's heart beat so hard and fast
she was sure it meant to pound its way right out of her chest. Her lungs had
stopped functioning the moment he stepped into the room.

God, she'd missed him. Even obviously exhausted from his
trip, with doubts and questions swirling in his eyes, she'd never been happier
to see anyone in her life. If she'd harbored any remaining doubts of her own as
to the strength or truth of her feelings, seeing him standing there washed them
all away in one flickering wink of the Christmas tree lights. She loved him.
She loved him so much, the power of it was rising up to choke her with emotion.

Now she just needed her Christmas miracle to help her win
him back.

Derrick stood still as stone in the entry to the living
room, his eyes locked with hers, his face blank. She shivered a little under
that gaze. Still, she lifted her chin, determined. But the words she'd planned
to say stuck in her throat, trapped by all that love and need filling her,
swamping her like a tidal wave. Why wouldn't he come any closer?

"What are you doing here?" His voice sounded
hoarse, as though he hadn't used it in days.

"I-I wanted to welcome you home." She resisted the
urge to fidget with her ribbons. "And to bring you your Christmas
present."

The expression on his face hardened. "Mia, I'm too
tired for games. What—"

"No," she interrupted. "No games. You
said—before, you said—" Damn it! She was fumbling it, nerves
twisting her tongue into knots. "This is for you."

Holding out the silver tray he'd yet to notice, her hands
shook. This had to work.

"What is it?" The suspicion in his tone hurt.
She'd been so sure, but maybe this wasn't the way. . .

A small wooden chest wrapped in red satin ribbon sat on the
tray. He moved forward slowly, telegraphing his reluctance, the look in his
eyes unreadable. Reaching out, he took the box from the tray, then removed the
ribbon without looking at her. The satin fell to his feet.

Lifting the lid on the box, Derrick peered inside, then
stood motionless, his eyes glued to the box's contents. Mia waited, breath
held. Her every hope for happiness depended on the next few moments.

Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. Something moved in
his eyes—was it hope? Anger? She couldn't read him, and that scared her
more than anything.

"It's-it's a heartstone," she said, her words
barely loud enough to be heard above her own pulse pounding in her ears, or the
music playing in the background.

She'd found the stone in a Celtic shop on Balboa Island and
thought it perfect for what she needed. Carefully, so he wouldn't pull away,
she reached into the box and removed the dark red stone, turning it to the
light.

"It has my initials on it, you see?" she
continued. "On the back. You-you keep it in your pocket. So wherever you
go, you carry my heart with you. Because. . ."

Trembling, her breaths coming in little panting gasps, she
trailed off. Still, he didn't speak. Didn't move. But his eyes were glued to
her face, waiting. She dragged her courage up from around her ankles and forced
herself to continue, though lack of oxygen threatened to send her to the floor
in a dead faint any moment.

"Because you do. Carry my heart." She bit her lip
to keep the sudden rush of tears at bay. "You said if I gave you my heart
on a silver platter, you—so. . ."

She wasn't making sense, she was bungling it, about to pass
out. Grasping desperately at her scattering thoughts, Mia tried to regain her
equilibrium. She had to get the words out, had to make him understand. And
believe.

Derrick took the tray from her hands. He placed it and the
box on the end table behind him, then held his hand out to her, palm up. Mia
placed the heartstone there, wishing for the courage to curve his fingers over
it herself. Instead, she dropped her hand away, and they stood facing each
other, so close she could feel the warmth of his body, yet they could have been
oceans apart. Had she lost him after all?

She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand for
silence.

Keeping his eyes on hers, he slid the stone into his pocket.
She stared, unable to look away, while a tiny seed of hope sprouted and sent a
tendril curling upward. Did that mean. . .?

"Say it," he said, his voice low. Dangerous. His
eyes, blazing gold in a face full of shadows, hypnotized her. "Say it,
Mia."

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and summoned
every ounce of strength she possessed. She looked him in the eye and said,
"I lo—"

But that was as far as she got.

With the speed of a lightning strike, he crushed her to his
chest, his mouth claiming hers in a hard, possessive kiss that drained any
remaining thoughts from her head in a flash of light and sound and fury. He
swept her away. Time and space no longer mattered, no longer had any bearing on
her reality. His tongue plundered, mated with hers, explored the recesses of
her mouth and stamped them as his. She couldn't breathe and didn't care.

Only Derrick mattered, only his lips on hers, his body
pressed tightly to her own, his hands in her hair.

Mia closed her eyes and gave herself over, heart, mind,
body, soul, she poured everything she had into their kiss, speaking without
words, branding him with her love in the oldest way possible. He would never
have a moment to doubt her. Never again.

Sweet chords of harp song filled her ears, the angelic tones
perfectly complimenting the pure, heady flow of love and passion swimming in
her veins. The glow of the colorful Christmas lights kaleidoscoped against her
closed lids, and the fresh, woodsy scent of the pine boughs melded with
Derrick's spicy musk, bathing her in sensory pleasure.

Forever after, the sights and sounds and scents of Christmas
would bring to mind this night, this moment, this first true step along the
path to their future together.

When he broke the kiss to lean his forehead against hers, he
was panting heavily, his muscles tensed and quivering beneath her stroking
hands.

She whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love
you," needing to give him the gift of those words, of their truth, as her
hands rubbed and kneaded and smoothed. She ran her fingers up into his thick,
sandy hair and twined the strands while his hands spread the length of her hair
down her back.

"It's about time," he said.

With a half-laugh, he captured her wandering fingers and
brought them to his lips to kiss each tip, sucking them lightly into his mouth
one by one. The coiling heat in her belly wound tighter.

She'd never been so aware of her emotions, of the bright,
overflowing light of pure joy. Of the staggering, astounding strength of true
love. Incredible.

She'd never been so aware of another person, of his body,
his scent, his power. Invincible.

And she'd never, ever been so aware of herself. Of the slide
of her own clothing against her skin. Of the soft, smooth texture of the filmy
negligee and the sharper edges of the ribbons twined about her body rubbing
over the sensitive tips of her nipples. They rose, proud and demanding, already
tightened to painful peaks. And through the negligee, the coarser fabrics of
Derrick's coat and shirt, the intense heat of his skin baking through every
layer. She'd never been so aware of the fierce craving for bare skin.

Insatiable.

Derrick's hands gathered the heavy length of her hair into a
long tail and stroked it over one shoulder, baring her back to his seeking
fingers. He massaged his hands from the nape of her neck to her shoulder
blades.