Romance Unwrapped [Anthology]

ROMANCE UNWRAPPED Published by Linden Bay Romance, 2005 Linden Bay Romance, LLP, UK Bury, England

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-905393-16-4 Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): PDF, PRC & HTML Copyright © A BLIZZARD CRIMSON, ELI ROSE, 2005 GLASS AND GLITTER, KALLYSTEN, 2005 HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU, CARO KINKEAD, 2005 IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER, PHILIPPA GREY-GEROU, 2005 IT’S NOT THE FALL THAT KILLS YOU, PEPPER ESPINOZA, 2005 IT WAS ALWAYS YOU, SAMANTHA SOMMERSBY, 2005 MIDNIGHT WINTERS, HOLLY DENISE SMITH, 2005 MORNING ALWAYS COMES, K.F. MCCUE, 2005 PEACETIME, DENNY S. BRYCE, 2005 SNOW IN THE DESERT, FELICITY HEATON, 2005 SNOWBOUND, GAYLE EDEN, 2005 SO THIS IS CHRISTMAS, JENNIFER GOSS, 2005 THIN ICE, ASHLEE HOPKINS, 2005 WINTER’S SURRENDER, ALANNA GREY, 2005 A WINTER’S TALE, JOANNE WELSH, 2005 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED The work is protected by copyright and should not be copied without permission. Linden Bay Romance, LLP reserves all rights. Re-use or re-distribution of any and all materials is prohibited under law. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental. Edited by M. Morpeth Cover art by S.L. Carpenter

ROMANCE UNWRAPPED

Table of Contents A Blizzard Crimson by Eli Rose

6

Glass and Glitter by Kallysten

24

Here’s Looking at You by Caro Kinkead

36

In the Bleak Midwinter by Philippa Grey-Gerou

60

It’s Not the Fall That Kills You by Pepper Espinoza

76

It Was Always You by Samantha Sommersby

90

Midnight Winters by Holly Denise Smith

105

Morning Always Comes by K.F. McCue

121

Peacetime by Denny S. Bryce

135

Snow in the Desert by Felicity Heaton

164

Snowbound by Gayle Eden

179

So this is Christmas by Jennifer Goss

247

Thin Ice by Ashlee Hopkins

268

Winter’s Surrender by Alanna Grey

285

A Winter’s Tale by Joanne Welsh

300

A BLIZZARD CRIMSON ELI ROSE

It still burned. The paths his hands had traced on her body felt as if they were still smoldering. Each line was sending new sensations with laser precision toward her abdomen, filling it with exquisite tingles that made her want to reacquaint herself with those hands all over again. How his hands had been trembling when she'd found him earlier. She'd only intended to still them. Instead, she'd given them a purpose. She'd only intended to give him fleeting comfort. Instead, they'd found solace together. She'd only intended...Oh well, intentions aside; here she was, surrounded by the arms of a hero. Arms that were attached to amazing hands. Amazing hands that had done deliciously wonderful and wicked things to her. There were going to be questions when he woke up. Like, what now? Until yesterday they'd only been friends-in-passing, co-workers, appreciative onlooker to his very scrumptious... ok, she'd caught him looking a time or two as well, and everyone around them had made lots of lewd and tempting suggestions; however, comments from the peanut gallery aside, she was pretty sure the whole heart fluttering thing belonged to her alone. What had gotten into her? Aside from him, that is. What had she gotten herself into? On any other day, if this had happened any other way, she would have been singing her joy over the intercom. But this wasn't fair to him. If she'd known what would have happened, she wouldn't have ever answered her phone yesterday morning. If only she could go back to yesterday and start the whole damn day over. Rewrite every moment of that horrible day from start to finish... Chapter 1 Yesterday morning… Why the hell did she agree to go in this morning? Oh yeah! She liked keeping her job. Ah, the perks of being a nurse in Middle-Of-Nowhere, America. You were always subject to being called in, particularly on days like this. Stupid idiots just loved to get out and see how many things they could run their truck into, particularly on the highway. Then again, they provided her with a gruesome form of job security, even if she wished they really wouldn’t. “Freaky ass snow storm…” Melanie grumbled to herself as she inched her little Honda forward. She could only see about five feet in front of her, and that was an optimistic estimate. According to the odometer, she’d only moved about a quarter mile in the last twenty minutes. Leave it to the weatherman to talk about a little bit of blowing and drifting snow. Hell, she had a snowdrift on top of her car! “Oh wait, my mistake, there it goes. Oh! Hello, new drift! Nice to meet… Freaky ass snow storm…” Oh look, speaking of idiots, there went another one. When would these morons learn

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that four-wheel drive didn’t guarantee four-wheel traction? What made them so special that they could see where they were going any better than she could? Melanie picked up her cell phone to try calling the hospital again. It was the cheapest phone she could buy and consequently didn’t get the greatest reception. She could get through, but only caught about every third word, everything else was static. As best as she could tell, her charge nurse was getting pretty desperate. The last time Melanie called, Barbara had resorted to begging her to keep working her way toward the hospital. Even bribed her with the promise of “a pleasant surprise” when she got there. At the moment, she was thinking that “when” was turning into a big “if”. “Hey, this is Mel. I need to talk to Barbara again.” Oh cool, five feet of clear road! Better move. “Hey Barbara, I’m a whole three blocks closer!” Toss in a little chuckle, and maybe Barb won’t be too angry that she’d only managed to get about half way to the hospital in the last hour and a half. “What?” Stupid phone. Stupid weather. “Um, not entirely sure. Think I’m on the bridge over the tracks.” Of course, it could be Alaska for all she knew. “I can’t really see a damn….what? Pull off? Barb, I can’t just…Hello? Hello? Barb? Urrgh...hello?” Was she even still connected? “Hello? Barb?!... I can’t hear you... Hang on, I think I can see something. Hey! I think it’s letting up a little!... Oh my God…” And suddenly she wished that she could go back to being blind, because what she saw was scary as hell. The snow was still coming down hard, but at least the wind wasn’t threatening to blow her off the road. Good thing, too. She was indeed on the big bridge over the rail yard, and despite the illusion she’d harbored for the last hour, she was anything but alone. Right in front of her, one four-door car had t-boned another. A little to their left, a small Honda similar to hers had plowed nose first into the median. A quick glance around showed her a similar scene on the other side of the highway, and there was a huge tangle of cars behind her and to the right. How had she not seen any of it? Then the snow let up the tiniest bit and she felt her blood freeze, as her heart skipped several beats. Immediately beyond the two cars in front of her, an eighteen-wheeler was stopped across all three lanes at an angle. Halfway underneath its center, the mangled remains of a vehicle, the front end of which was an unidentifiable hunk. Seemingly attached to the rear end of the vehicle was one of the four-wheel drive trucks that had shot past her during her trek. And smack in the middle of this smoking sea of twisted metal and shattered fiberglass, sat Melanie and her faithful little Honda. Alone and untouched. At least, for about ten more seconds.

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She barely had time to process the image approaching in her rear-view mirror. A blue truck slid dangerously close to the edge of the bridge, spun in a half-circle, then slid rear first toward her. She thought it might actually stop before it got to her, but then it came to rest against her fender with a gentle thud that she saw more than felt. She so didn’t have time to argue with the idiot who’d hit her, so she shook off her shock and let the nurse part of her brain take control. The snow was picking up again, and soon she wouldn’t even be able to see half the cars that she could see now. Crashed cars usually meant injured people, and she couldn't help them if she couldn't find them. So she made a quick apology to her car, before abandoning it to fend for itself. Even if she wanted to move her car, she couldn’t, there wasn’t any place for it to go. She was now well and truly surrounded in a chaos built out of wrecked cars and a regrouping blizzard. A rapid assessment sent her running to the best of her ability toward the Honda, since the two cars in front of her seemed to be empty, their drivers out and arguing with each other. She shouted an order telling them to get back in their cars, her tone leaving no room for argument. She’d made it about three quarters of the way to the Honda, and only fallen twice. She thought she was doing pretty good. Until she fell a third time, anyway. “Ma’am, please get back in your ugly little car, before you get yourself killed!” She knew that voice. Of all the idiots that she could get stranded with, one of them had to be him? The one guy in all the world that she would absolutely die to go out with. Which of course meant that he was completely hot and entirely intolerable. “Thought you liked my car, Greg?” she shouted back, without turning around. “Great example of efficiency and solid mechanics,” She finished in a mockingly masculine voice. “That piece of….Melanie?” “No.” Aw, he was helping her up. How chivalrous of him. Jerk. “It’s a piece of Honda.” The pair managed to make it to the Honda that could’ve been a twin to Melanie's car more or less without further difficulty. "I think we have enough horror around us without you cracking jokes, Mel," Greg deadpanned, as he knocked on the driver's window. "Oh, my apologies," She replied with as much exaggeration as possible in her voice, but without the grand sweeping bow she wanted to accompany it. If she tried it, she'd fall flat on her ass again. "My sense of humor is a bit flat since you crashed into my car! Big redneck dork," She mumbled at the end. She tried the handle to the passenger side door and with a bit of tugging, it finally opened. Inside, the driver was blinking at the

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steering wheel. He was a little elderly man with a coal black comb-over. He looked mostly intact, with the exception of a small cut smack in the middle of his forehead. "Sir? My name is Melanie and I'm a nurse, are you ok?" The little man looked over at her; it was the only acknowledgement she got. Poor thing was probably scared as hell and confused as well. He finally seemed to notice Greg knocking on his window, as his head turned toward the sound. She could tell Greg was trying the door, but it wasn't budging. So, she backed out of the door and shouted across to Greg that she had this one and for him to move on to the next group, before ducking back inside. With quite a bit of prodding, she got the gentleman to tell her his name, age, and the date. His legs were a little banged up, but didn't seem to be broken. She rooted around the car a little and came up with a blanket and pillow he had stashed in the back. After getting him wrapped sufficiently that she wasn't worried he'd get hypothermic too soon, and giving him a few instructions, she left him and made her way over to Greg on the other side of the highway. He was at a group of three cars that were wrapped together, like some bizarre metallic sculpture protesting the modernization of society. Greg shut the door on the car that his very remarkable backside was sticking out of. Melanie grinned to herself. Leave it to her to be thinking in similes and admiring butts in the middle of a major pile up. Oh! Now she could admire the front of him, as he came sliding his way toward her with a fairly dire look. That couldn't be good; he must be distracted as hell. Normally the big brunette walked with a strange grace to his lanky six and a half foot frame. Too bad she couldn’t see his arms. He had the arms of a pipe fitter. But she’d never seen him look very rattled before. In fact, he had one of those faces that were either plastered in a brainless grin, or a stoic detachment. Yep, whatever it was that had him bothered had to be pretty bad. "What's up over here?" "Couple of fractured legs, a probable concussion," He shrugged. At least, she thinks he shrugged. Hard to tell with his big down coat. "Oh, well that's not so bad." "And that’s just in the car full of half a dozen kids, none of whom had seatbelts on." His eyes fixed on her own and she shivered. Holy cow, she'd never seen that look from him before. This was pure unadulterated rage, all pouring unimpeded through his gaze. Damn if that look didn’t made her feel like the temperature dropped about ten more degrees. "The mom's pinned pretty solid. All of them are shaking and screaming except the unconscious one, and the baby is climbing over all of them. He's the only one who isn't hurt, though I don't know how the hell that happened."

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"Damn it! Why the heck...oh forget it. Never going to make sense out of this mess." She turned around and trudged her way back to her car. At least she could get her blanket and try to keep the kids warmed up. "Hell, I haven't even had my coffee yet." Greg seemed to read her mind, as he took the blanket and made his way back across the median. The arguing guys from the t-bone were now out of their cars again and walking toward her. With appropriately contrite expressions, they asked if they could help do something. They'd both called 9-1-1, and had been told help was already in route. As she dispatched the guys with specific instructions to look, but not touch, and report back to her, she heard a shout from behind. It came from the wreckage of the semi, 4x4, and as yet unidentifiable vehicle. A scrawny looking dude without a coat was sprawled over the side of the wedged vehicle and was apparently looking inside, while a giant of a man was trotting toward her shouting for help. She felt kind of bad for them, she didn't want to dash their hopes, but there wasn't any hope for anything in that car, truck, or whatever it used to be. She began to slide her way to the semi. The big burly man turned and ran back to the semi, climbed up inside and began pleading for help with his radio. He sounded pretty frantic as she tapped the scrawny guy on the leg. "Sir, my name is Melanie. I'm a nurse. Are you ok?" "There's a lady! I think she's alive!" The poor kid. He was just that, a kid who probably had just got his license that week. He couldn't be more than sixteen, and he was as white as the snow starting to whip around them again, and panting so fast he was going to pass out any second. He'd dropped back off the crushed car and was looking pretty shaky. "Sir! Are you ok? Are you hurting anywhere? Did you hit your head or anything else?" "The lady..." "What's your name, sir?" She slowly began trying to look him over. "Jeff. You...you gotta..." "I'll look at her in just a second. First, I need you to tell me if you feel ok and I really need you to slow your breathing down, or you're going to pass out on me. I don’t think you want Joe the truck driver trying to do CPR on you," Melanie grinned. The kid nodded his head and tried to slow down some, as she walked him through it. He closed his eyes in an obvious attempt to concentrate, but they popped open pretty quickly. The look of pain and terror on his face made her want to hug the unfortunate thing. He'd probably gotten an eyeful of things he shouldn't ever have to see in his life. She offered him her smile that said she knew what she was doing and she'd take care of everything. She moved him over and began to try and carefully climb onto the car. Just as she got

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close to the crushed opening that should have held the back window, a hand closed over her shoulder. "Mel," Greg's voice came in a tone that was as low as he could get it and still be heard through the wind. "You can't seriously think anyone..." She cut him off with a fierce glare, and he recoiled just a little. She purposefully glanced over at the teenager with the tiniest of nods. Greg took her cue and returned it with a nod of his own. "Be careful! I don't want to have to do your job while you're at home mending a broken arm." She let a rather indelicate snort escape, as she resumed her climb. "Don't I wish!" "Hey, I'm serious here. This thing is all kinds of messed up. In fact, why don't you let me do that?" He gently tapped her shoulder. "Besides, shorty, as least I won't have to be on top of the thing to see in." "Why, thank you, kind sir, I've always depended on the kindness of strangers," She intoned in her best southern belle voice. "Back off Greg. This opening is so small, there's no way you could get close to anyone..." "Melanie," His voice was urgent. She looked back over her shoulder at him. To her surprise, he looked really concerned about her. It touched something inside that she didn't really have time to deal with at the moment. She really wished she did. Boy did his timing stink! She waited, as he looked like he was about to add something. After a second, he gave a nod and she turned back to her job. She cautiously picked her way through the wreckage, and managed to get her head, one arm, and a shoulder in the back window. At first she didn't really see anything, her eyes not seeing well through the dim light filtering in through the storm and jumbled places where the top third of the car should be. The first thing she spied was an infant car seat, empty, thank goodness. Then the shape of the woman the boy had been rambling about took form. She was curled up into a ball in the back seat, and appeared to simply be sleeping. Melanie felt around and got a decent pulse, but the woman was completely unconscious. As best she could tell, she had a nasty head wound. She gently felt around a little more and then reached the soft mass of material the woman was curled around…it started to move. And cry. Today just wasn’t her day. Chapter 2 They were sitting in Greg’s truck; it had become their command central. She was sipping coffee from the thermos the trucker had generously offered, as they conferred on the most serious of the injuries. It had been two more hours. The last time they’d called the hospital for an update, one of the fire trucks and an ambulance were getting

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close to them. Somehow she and Greg had managed to land smack in the middle of what was estimated to be one hundred and eighty cars, and the emergency workers were picking their way through each one while fighting the weather the entire way. The long bridge couldn’t have provided a worse scenario. No homes to put people, and no access except through the wreckage. “How’s the woman?” Greg asked, holding his hands up to the heater vent. He’d given up his coat and gloves somewhere along the way. “No change. Still unresponsive, but hanging in there. You were pretty ingenious to give the baby to the boy to watch. How’s the girl?” She knew Greg was pretty worried about the little girl across the highway, and with good reason. She’d seized a couple of times, and hadn’t regained consciousness either. He didn’t answer her, just stared intently out the window. “Oh, Greg, she hasn’t…” “No. But we’ve gotta get her out of here.” Melanie nodded. They all needed out of there. They had at least one already dead, and three others perched precariously close. One of whom she wouldn’t have even checked on, if not for the boy. And where would that have left that baby? “How are you?” “What?” Melanie blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment. Drawing a strange look from Greg. “Mel, are you ok?” He reached over and placed a warm hand on her forehead, then moved it down to her neck. “You keeping warm enough?” Her? All these people around, and he was asking how she was doing? Huh…that was…interesting. She must be getting tired, because her feelings for him were starting to affect everything she saw and heard. Like just now, it felt like his thumb had gently stroked the soft spot just under her jaw, and it drew a brief contented hum from her. She saw his tongue dart out for just a second and moisten his chapped lips, and she reflexively mirrored his action. And she could swear that the hand on her neck was pulling her toward him. She could almost imagine that he wanted her to kiss him. That was when her better sense kicked in. This was all just a product of the situation. Instinct. Two people trying to hold themselves together, by holding onto each other. She shouldn’t use this to take advantage of him, no matter what her feelings for him were. At least, that was what the rational side of her brain was yelling at her. “Hey, hey, hey! Personal space here! I’m…I’m fine you big dumb redneck, I just wasn’t expecting…wasn’t expecting you of all people to ask me that.” Melanie sighed out.

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“Oh.” Greg pulled his hand back after another second. He seemed…hurt? That can’t be right. The cold and stress were definitely getting to her. “Greg?” “I get the message, Mel,” He bit out as he started to pull open his door. “No, I don’t think you do,” She reached out and stopped him with a gentle grasp of his arm. He looked over at her, a curious expression on his face. “It’s not that I don’t…God, how do I explain this? I don’t think you feel… that is, I think that all of this is clouding our…” Greg looked at her like she’d lost her mind, and maybe she had. “Oh hell’s bells. Look, I like you. A lot. But we’re both really tired and stressed right now, and it’s all probably affecting our judgment. Like just a second ago, it felt like, well, like you wanted to kiss me. But I know you wouldn’t really want to.” Greg was staring at her with the same expression she was sure she’d offered when he asked her earlier if she was ok. After blinking at her a couple of times, the corners of his mouth turned up just a hint. Then gave way to a full smile. A split second more, and he began to laugh, growing into a great belly laugh that made her wonder if either she’d missed something, or he’d gone insane. Or maybe, he found it really damn funny that she was interested in him. Stupid, idiotic, ass, with his freakishly large arms and really irritating laugh. “Glad you find it so damn funny...” “God, if we don’t make a pair of dumb-asses!” Greg chuckled out. “Mel, I’ve been trying for the last six months to get you to…” Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a knock on his car window. “Sir? Mr. Marsh?” “Get me to what Greg?” Melanie’s indignation was quickly melting into confusion. “Mr. Marsh?” The knocking came a little more urgently. “To see that I’m crazy about you, you stubborn…” “Sir?” “Stubborn?!” Melanie sputtered.

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“Maybe you’d prefer…” “Mr. Marsh!” The voice shouted. “WHAT?” Greg barked, rolling his window down enough to speak to the man standing there. “You asked me to get you if anything changed. The little girl, she did that jerking thing again. And she looks kind of blue. I thought maybe she was getting too cold, but…” “Shit, shit, shit!” Greg blasted out as he slung open his car door and took off at top speed toward the other side of the highway. “Find out where the fuck that damn transport is!” He shouted back to her as he lost his footing and fell to one knee, but then righted himself. Melanie flipped open Greg’s cell phone and punched in the number as she tried to make her way over to the cluster of cars where she knew Greg would be. After a moment, Betty, one of the ER nurses, told her that a fire truck had them in sight and an ambulance was right behind them, and that another unit was almost there as well. She glanced wildly around as the bright green truck just barely came into sight on the other side of the highway. And she frantically waved them toward the three intertwined cars. She popped the phone in her coat pocket, and finished scrambling over to Greg. As she neared the car, she could see him hanging over the back seat. Both the mother and the little girl were precariously pinned and anything they did had to be done from over the seat. Melanie finally made it all the way to the car just as the truck full of paramedics arrived and began jumping out, grabbing cases and equipment. She started trying to direct them toward the worst cases, keeping one eye on Greg who was giving the little girl rescue breathing. Suddenly another fire unit came into view from behind the pile up behind her own car. Even more paramedics skidded out and the entire site became a flurry of activity. “Ok everyone, listen up! We have everyone in three main groups! A…B…and C,” Melanie pointed at each in turn, as she reported off the various injuries housed there. Organized chaos took over as medical training and instinct kicked back into full gear. The waiting game was finally over. The last time she saw Greg through the snow, the doors on a fully loaded ambulance were being slammed shut as he continued to tend to the little girl. Chapter 3 “Mel, 3 North has a few open beds, go crawl in one and sleep. That’s an order!” Barbara stood glaring, hands on her hips. Melanie had definitely contemplated it. She didn’t have a car, and the hospital had offered all vacant beds to any staff wishing to stay. That

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entire wing of the hospital was being redone, and had turned into a sort of hospital refugee camp. “I will, I will,” She held her hands up in surrender. “I don’t want to even look at another car, much less drive anywhere!” Barb gave her a very sympathetic smile. “Don’t guess I can blame you there.” “Hey, have you seen Greg? We got separated when the units got there, and I haven’t seen him since. I’ve still got his phone.” “He’s been down in intermediate care all afternoon. All those people you guys brought in kind of swamped them.” “Ok. Thanks.” Melanie made a quick sweep of the first floor but couldn’t find him. It took a few tries, but she finally found someone who said they’d seen him heading for the third floor. As she got off the elevator, she was met with a few cheers and one or two bits of clapping, which she shrugged off. Betty, who was also apparently staying the night, shooed everyone away, then promptly pulled Melanie into a giant bear hug. “Oh sweety, I just heard. I’m sorry. But you guys did one hell of a job!” “Um, just heard what?” Melanie hadn’t heard anything. “They didn’t tell you?” Betty looked pretty surprised. “I just assumed that since Greg knew…” “Knew what?” She bit out. She was completely exhausted and this was getting really annoying. That was when her frazzled brain finally put everything together. “Oh.” It was all she could manage for a moment. “When?” “About an hour ago,” Betty said, glancing at the clock. “The rest of the family made it here by the skin of their teeth, but at least it was before she died.” “Thanks, Betty,” Melanie hugged her friend again. “Have you seen Greg?” “He’s in the last room on the end. He took it really hard, so we figured it was best to just give him some space. Someone should probably check in on him.” The outside world seemed to melt away entirely as Melanie entered the dark room. The winter night’s sky provided just enough light that she could just barely make out his outline, sitting on the edge of the bed. She quietly closed the door behind her, and set her coat on the counter. Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness as she neared him,

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and she could see that he was staring down at his hands. They were in his lap, palm up, and they were visibly trembling. “Greg?” Melanie slowly placed a hand on his shoulder, but she received no response. He just continued to stare at his hands. “You did an amazing job out there today, you know.” That earned her a small sound. Somewhere between a laugh and a derisive snicker. “I failed.” Melanie placed herself directly in front of him and knelt down so she could see his face. She gently wrapped his hands in her own, but couldn’t stop his trembling. “No, Greg. You didn’t fail,” Melanie insisted. “You gave her your best.” “Wasn’t enough,” He replied. “It was! You gave her and her family a chance to say goodbye. That’s more than they would have had without you.” Melanie squeezed his hands a little tighter. “You and I both know that sometimes, that’s as much as we can give them.” Greg nodded mutely, but it gave her little confidence that he truly accepted what she’d said. She couldn’t really think of anything else to say at the moment. Nothing that she could say would give him the comfort he needed. It only took her a moment to decide what to do. Melanie leaned down and took each of his hands, and placed a gentle kiss in the center of each palm. Then, turning his hands over and lifting them up, she began to place a kiss randomly on each fingertip. She could feel him start to pull his hands away, but she didn’t let go. She glanced up at him, and seeing his confused expression, she firmly pulled his hands back toward her and placed one on each side of her face and then she slowly released them. She placed her own hands in the same position on his face, and stared intently into his eyes, making sure she had his attention as she spoke one last time. “You’re a genuine hero, Greg. Don’t ever doubt that.” He stared back at her for a few moments, as his eyes filled with unshed tears. Then slowly, she felt the fingers on his right hand curl just the slightest and then relax. They repeated their motion, as his face slowly came closer to hers. A breath away from her lips, he seemed to pause, as if unsure about what he was doing. So Melanie took that last distance, and pressed her lips firmly against his in a single kiss.

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When it was over, she leaned away slightly, to see what his reaction would be. She didn’t have to wait long. His hands, once tentative, suddenly firmly grasped her head and pulled her back to his lips. This kiss was much more urgent, his lips crushing, pulling, and insistent. Then suddenly, his hands were everywhere, pulling her up and bringing her against his chest, before folding around her in a hug so tight that Melanie thought she could feel an imprint against her skin. Melanie felt his arms loosen slightly, as he leaned back on the bed, pulling her with him. When she was firmly resting on top of him, he finally let go of her and broke the kiss. His eyes seemed to be drinking her in. They scanned all around her face, pausing as they took in her now swollen lips. His tongue darted out, to moisten his own lips, and the sight captivated her momentarily. So she decided to try and capture it. As she brought her head back down, she brushed her lips against his, feeling the dab of moisture now coating them. She felt his hands begin to caress slow firm circles on her back, each one leading a little lower than the one before it. She drew the tip of her tongue against his upper lip, before pulling it back in, only to repeat the action. She felt his breathing speed up until it out paced her own as he ceded entrance to her questing tongue and met it with his own. His hands insistently pulled her hips against the bulge that was hardening against her lower abdomen. He planted one of his legs between hers, his thigh firmly pushing against her sex, and she ground down against it. She wasn’t sure if the low moan that followed belonged to her or him or both of them. Suddenly, Melanie felt herself being flipped over onto her back, and Greg pressing her into the mattress. His mouth left her own and trailed down to her jaw. One hand came up to urgently grasp at one breast as his other hand slid between them and rubbed between her legs. She angled her hips until his fingers caressed just the right spot. She knew the next moan came from her. And then they were both in frenzied motion. Hands pulled at scrubs, untying, pushing, moving until they found their targets. Melanie’s hand seized Greg’s cock, as his mouth closed over her nipple. A firm squeeze from her small hand rewarded her with a groan and a nip from his teeth. His mouth insistently sucked and nibbled and he thrust into her hand, and she reciprocated by stroking him harder. Melanie felt his fingers as they delved between her folds, and one of them thrust inside her as his thumb pressed against her clit. Soon, a second finger joined the first, and then a third, drawing a short little squeal from her throat. She could feel herself climbing higher and higher as his fingers found the sensitive spot along the top of her vault. Hers hands flew to his shoulders and dug themselves into the tense muscles. Just a little further and she would be there.

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And then the fingers were gone. Melanie groaned a protest that died in her throat as she felt him position himself at her opening, and she was suddenly hit with a moment of strange clarity. “Wait! Stop! We don’t…” Out of nowhere, one of Greg’s hands popped in front of her face, an empty condom wrapper held between his thumb and forefinger. “God, I love you!” Greg immediately froze, his entire body becoming as stiff as a board for a few seconds. Then he propped himself up on his arms and looked her straight in the eyes, a hurt and angry look covering his face. “You shouldn’t toss those words around, Mel.” Melanie’s mind took a confused second to realize what had him so obviously upset, and then was internally cursing at her. Stupid Freud and his slips! Then again sometimes fate does you a favor. She brought one hand up to cup his cheek as her lips curved into a reassuring smile. “Tossing or not, I meant it.” Greg gave her a questioning look for another moment, and then returned her smile, before leaning in to give her a gentle and almost relieved kiss. Melanie relaxed again, as she felt Greg dip just inside her opening a couple of times, before fully thrusting himself into her, stretching and filling her in delicious ways she hadn’t felt in far too long. After a moment, he began to pull out and her hips automatically followed with him, until he thrust back inside again. Greg’s mouth found hers yet again, and plundered it as he set a brutal pace that left Melanie struggling to keep up. He pulled her knees up until he found just the right angle that had her shrieking and gasping with every thrust. After a few more moments of the exquisite torture, Melanie’s body gave an almost violent shudder and wave after wave of pleasure suffused her entire being. As her orgasm continued to wash through her, Greg continued pumping in and out of her, at a little easier pace. When she finally felt like she could reasonably coordinate her limbs again, she pulled his face back up to hers and kissed him gently on his forehead. She met his gaze once more, and saw so many emotions race across his countenance. At the moment, she only wanted one there; the same one she’d worn only moments before. With his next thrust, Melanie clenched her internal muscles as hard as she could, pulling a sudden gasp from him. Each time he withdrew, she squeezed, pulling against him and increasing the friction. His eyes rolled back, as his hips thrusting became more and more irregular. With a final deep pulse, Melanie felt his cock spasm inside her as he

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gave over to his own orgasm. After a few more shallow thrusts, Greg collapsed against her. As they lay there panting, muscles still trembling, sweat glinting in the dim light, Melanie felt Greg’s hand come up and cup her cheek, his thumb weakly brushing against her cheekbone. She turned her head slightly and watched as he fought the exhaustion trying to take him over. With a small smile, she returned his gesture, and told him to sleep. When he finally surrendered, she was only moments behind him. Chapter 4 Now that she thought about it, maybe she wouldn’t write the whole day over again. There had been definite highlights. But looking back, would any single part of it have happened without the rest of it? There had been frustration, anger, and loss; but there was also understanding, exhilaration, and love. It had all gone hand in hand. Greg stirred beside her, his arms closing around her just a little more. Melanie tucked her head a little more firmly into his chest, as she felt the tension building inside herself and Greg as well. A new day was upon them, and it was time to face the music. She felt one of his hands leave her shoulder, to rub his face and run through his hair, and a long drawn out groan fell from him. She tensed up even more. “Um, hey,” Greg’s rough voice scratched out. “Hey, yourself,” She replied. Silence filled the room for long awkward moments. “Guess we should get up, huh?” Melanie finally said, starting to move. “Nope.” “No?” “Huh, uh. Plan to stay here a while. Sleep, hold you, see if I can’t make you scream again.” “Scream? There was no screaming involved.” Melanie cocked an amused eyebrow as she glanced up into Greg’s sleepy gaze. “Hmm…guess I’ll have to see if I can’t rectify that.” Greg said as he tipped her chin up and placed an easy kiss on her lips. Melanie only halfheartedly returned it. As he broke the kiss, she opened her eyes to a perplexed look on his face. “Mel?” “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

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Greg gave a huge sigh, as he once again rubbed his face, and pushed up on the bed until he was sitting up. “Out with it, Mel. Regretting it already?” “No, it’s just… I feel like I kind of took advantage of you. You were obviously upset, and I let my feelings cloud my judgment.” “And you think I let it cloud mine?” Greg stonily asked. “Well, maybe,” Melanie picked at the sheet on the bed. Greg remained silent for an awfully long time before he finally seemed to find a suitable answer to that. “Do you remember what I said yesterday? In the truck, just before all hell broke loose, again?” He asked. Melanie thought for a moment, she did remember. Hell, it had just about floored her. It was kind of hard to forget it. “Yeah.” “I meant it. Been trying for months now to get you to wake up and smell the coffee. Can’t really think of a time when I wasn’t in love with you, and don’t really want to, either. I love everything you do, everything about you. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who genuinely cared about everyone and everything as much as you. You give everything you have and then some, without much regard for yourself.” Melanie could only blink in response. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet money that your intentions last night didn’t have anything to do with you,” He coolly informed her. “Am I right?” “Well, I, uh, I…” “So there is no question of you taking advantage. You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want you to, got it?” Melanie nodded. “So, let’s see. We’ve established that I’ve been in love with you for a while. We’ve established that you’ve been after me for a while. Which means we’re both total idiots when it comes to each other. We’ve missed a lot of opportunities and I think we should work on making up for that, don’t you?” Greg grinned. “When did you get so…” “Mature? Dashingly handsome? Intelligent?”

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“I was going to say ‘wordy’, but that works too,” Melanie smiled back. “And I’m all for making up for lost opportunities.” Greg grinned as he leaned forward and planted a firm kiss that promised lots and lots of making up. Melanie felt his hand move up her arm, and push her shoulder back onto the bed as he pressed his upper body against hers. All of those trails began heating up again as his hands began following familiar paths. His mouth left no inch of her unexplored. His hands thoroughly caressed every curve of her body. He felt and tasted every bit of her. In the heat of the moment, as his teeth explored that particularly sensitive bit of her neck, and while plunging in and out of her depths, it seems that neither of them noticed that one of them had nudged the emergency button next to the bed. A small army of nurses, and anyone else who’d stayed the night, came bursting through the door, led by a very worried Betty. After the rather startled exclamations, and more than a few congratulatory catcalls, Betty ushered everyone out of the room, while advising the couple that they might want to reset the button before the rest of the hospital showed up. “Oh my god, what’re we gonna do?” Melanie asked from her spot, still hiding under Greg’s lanky form as she let out an embarrassed laugh. “Mmm…well, I can think of at least one thing,” Greg replied, giving his hips a little thrust and reminding her just what they’d been doing before they were interrupted. “Why, sir, I’m positively sure that I don’t know what you mean!” Melanie coyly adopted her best southern belle voice again, and batted her eyelashes as innocently as she could manage without laughing. Greg didn’t feel as inclined to refrain. “Feeling up for a bit of role-playing? Well, Miss. Melly, I think you’re in for a bit of a shock, because I am definitely no Ashley.” “Fancy yourself as Rhett, do you?” Melanie teased. “Well, you should be kissed, and often. And by someone who knows how.” “Just kissed?” Melanie innocently blinked. “I think you’ll find that I’m definitely a man who knows how to… kiss,” Greg sent her a very rakish smile as his lips found their way to that sweet spot right between her legs. “Oh, Rhett…”

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The End

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GLASS AND GLITTER Kallysten

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This story takes place a year and one half after the novel CheckMate by Kallysten, which is available for purchase at www.lindenbayromance.com

Wary of staying out of the sunlight, Lilia opened the door to the postman, only to have two packages thrust into her hands before the man hurriedly backed away. She wasn’t quite sure how he had found out she was a vampire, but he certainly seemed not to be too comfortable when she was the one opening the door. He was back to the street before she could thank him, and she shrugged, immediately putting him out of her mind. She couldn’t have cared less what this particular human thought of her. The first package, the smaller of the two, was addressed to Vincent, and the return address pointed to his father. She dropped it on the coffee table, unconcerned about what might be in it. If she was to judge by the Christmassy stamps and stickers, it was probably Vincent’s Christmas gift. Like the previous year, his father had wanted them to travel to his house for the holidays; she and Vincent had declined again, and there had been an awkward pause on the phone when Vincent had explained to his father, as he had a year earlier, that Lilia didn’t celebrate Christmas. He hadn’t actually pointed out that vampires weren’t exactly interested in anything that had to do with religion, but from where she had been listening, that was what it had sounded like to Lilia. The second package, a rather large square box, bore her name in the same handwriting as the first, but it lacked the holiday trimming; instead, it had been stamped repeatedly with the word ‘Fragile’. Curious, she set it on the sofa and opened it, using a sharp nail to break off the tape. Tissue paper hid its content except for an envelope resting on top, her name scribbled on it. She pulled out of it a handful of pictures, all of them showing Vincent at various ages, all of them showing him as he decorated a Christmas tree. On the oldest picture, he didn’t look older than two years old maybe, and he was in his mother’s arms, clinging to a wooden ornament. On the most recent, he looked sixteen or seventeen and he was rolling his eyes at the camera, but smiling just as much as on every other picture. Just as happy. She was quite certain that she made Vincent happy, but there was something in the pictures that felt different. Maybe because the child they depicted had been innocent still, and had not met death as closely as he now saw it so regularly as a Special Enforcer. Still wondering why Vincent’s father had sent her pictures of him as a kid, she looked again in the envelope, searching for a note that would explain it, but finding nothing. After putting the pictures away, she turned back to the rest of the box. A few sheets of tissue paper revealed bubble wrap. Through the clear plastic, Lilia could see the colored glass of the ornaments beneath. She stared at them for a few seconds before covering them with the tissue paper again, laying the envelope on top of it as it had been, and closing back the box a bit more abruptly than was necessary. A quick visual survey of the house later, she carried the box to the coat closet and pushed it as far back and to the side as she could, where it wouldn’t be too noticeable. Combined with

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the pictures and the fact that the box had been addressed to her, the ornaments were an unsubtle attempt from Vincent’s father to change her mind about not celebrating Christmas. She wasn’t pleased, far from it, at the push; she had no intention of playing the game. And she was going to tell Emery Jordan exactly what she thought of his tricks. She had no trouble finding his phone number in Vincent’s address book, and she dialed angrily, already mumbling under her breath. The phone rang four times before Emery picked up the phone, and Lilia had to keep a tight control over herself not to shout at him. “Vincent told you I don’t celebrate Christmas,” she snapped, forgoing greetings to jump straight into the matter. Emery seemed startled by her abruptness and remained silent for a few seconds, but when he finally spoke his voice was as calm as though she hadn’t just barked at him. “Good afternoon, Lilia. I would suppose you received my package?” “I did. And again, I don’t…” “Celebrate Christmas,” he finished for her. “I had understood the first time around. ” “And still you sent me those things!” “They’re called pictures, my dear. And ornaments. I assure you, they are quite inoffensive. ” Lilia gritted her teeth. He wasn’t backing off. She knew, now, where Vincent had gotten his stubborn streak from. “And yet, I happen to find it offensive that you sent them to me, Emery. You’re lucky I’m on a strict diet these days. ” Judging by the silence that followed, the old man had either forgotten whom he was playing with, or he hadn’t expected Lilia to be quite this upset. In all honesty, she hadn’t realized she was until she had heard the not quite threat pass her lips. “Christmas used to be my son’s favorite holiday,” Emery eventually said, still clinging to his calm, but Lilia could tell she had shaken him. “Not just because of the gifts. Because of all of it. The decorations, the songs, the food. He stopped enjoying it as much the year his mother died, and we never touched the ornaments since. ” Her anger dimming slightly, Lilia let out a long-suffering sigh. “Why are you telling me this?”

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“Why?” Emery repeated, sounding surprised. “You claim to love my boy. I thought you might be interested in knowing more about him. I apologize if I was mistaken. ” Shaking her head incredulously, Lilia hung up the phone without a goodbye. Clearly, Emery had had his speech ready. He had thought it all very carefully, she was sure of it. Trap her with words and lead her to a road she had no interest in traveling. That only proved how badly he knew her. If he had told Vincent about his idea, his son would have set him straight quite easily on what worked with her and what didn’t. At least, it meant that Vincent wasn’t in on all this stupidity. She was going to forget all of this. In fact, she couldn’t wait to forget about it. ~ Days passed, and Lilia didn’t forget. Over and again she kept coming back to the box and pictures. Whenever she had a few moments to herself, be it because Vincent was out of the house, taking a shower or still sleeping, she pulled the box out of the closet and opened it again. The first few times, she only took out the pictures and looked at them again, always focusing on her Mate’s smile and trying to remember when she had last made him that happy. After a few times, she started pulling out the decorations too, glaring at each piece of glass as she carefully took them out of the box as though they were responsible for her obsession with the box and what it contained. As much as she tried, she couldn’t understand what made these bits of glass so special. They were pretty, certainly, but not enough to warrant such grins from Vincent. She never mentioned the box to him, though, nor did she let him see anything of her little ritual. She was all at once intrigued by the shiny pieces of glass and exasperated by them. She was a vampire, and she had no use for Christmas decorations. But these same useless things were responsible for Vincent’s happiness in so many pictures… As Christmas grew closer, she became more and more irritable, both annoyed by her own behavior and by the fact that Vincent’s father had tried so blatantly to manipulate her. At first, her irritation manifested itself through snarky comments at the expense of the neighbors’ elaborate holiday display or glares at the town’s decorations when they went out at night to hunt. Vincent usually tried to distract her, succeeding for the most part, or ignored her comments when she insisted in being disparaging of the whole holiday game. But the night before Christmas, her annoyance broke through with a crash that surprised even her. “What do you mean, we’re not patrolling tonight?” she testily asked her Mate when he told her of his plans for the evening. “You think vamps take a day off because it’s Christmas?” “I’m not that naïve,” he replied with a brief laugh. “It’s just something I do. I don’t work on Christmas Eve and Christmas, that’s all. Personal tradition. You didn’t seem to mind last year. ”

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She snorted at that. “I hadn’t realized it was a tradition. And a fine one at that. Leaving the town to the vamps sounds like a fine gift to them. If I had known when I was on the other side of the fence, I’d have made sure to leave gifts in front of your door. Wouldn’t it have been special to find a pile of corpses…” It was his gaze, so dark that it seemed his pupils had swallowed every bit of blue, that stopped her, and she belatedly realized what she had been saying. Vincent had never held against her what she had done before their Mating; that didn’t mean, apparently, that he enjoyed hearing her flaunt her kills so openly. “Don’t tell me you had forgotten what I am,” she defended herself, flashing her fangs at him. “Vampire here, remember?” Without a word, he stood and collected his shoes and jacket. “I’ll tell you what, Lilia,” he said coldly as he dressed. “You can go hunt vamps all night long if it amuses you, or stay here and continue your rant by yourself, or do anything else you want. I don’t care. Just like you don’t care about what I think of Christmas. After all, just because you don’t give a damn about it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a nice holiday dinner with my friends. ” They exchanged glares as he walked out, and she unconsciously growled when he banged the door shut behind him. “Anything I want?” she took the empty room as witness. “I’ll show him anything. ” Seconds later, the door banged shut again, this time behind her. She knew from experience that the clubs downtown remained open during the holidays. A bit of dancing and hunting might help improve her mood. And with any luck, she would calm down before she did anything that would incite Vincent to stake her if he ever found out. As it turned out, she calmed down long before that. All it took was the glimpse of a child through a window. She couldn’t even tell if it was a boy or girl, but the smile was the same as Vincent’s on all those old photos. And instead of giving him one more reason to be happy, she had made him more upset than she had in months; even more, it seemed, than when he had believed she had been unfaithful to him. He hadn’t even asked her to celebrate the holiday or anything of the sort, she guiltily realized. He hadn’t asked it of her this year, nor the previous one. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, in fact, not until tonight and his question of what she wanted to do since he wasn’t planning on going out and hunting vampires. It was his father who had nudged her with that damned box, and she had lashed out at Vincent instead, simply because he was there while Emery wasn’t. The question was, how would she make it up to him?

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~ By the time Vincent was ready to pull into Don and Jeanie’s driveway to take advantage of their dinner invitation, his anger had faded into a simple bad mood, and he was suddenly reluctant to impose his presence on his friends. To come like this in such a bad temper and without Lilia was sure to raise questions, and it would have been selfish from him to spoil their Christmas because his own was turning out to be a disaster. So, rather than turning to park behind Don’s van, he picked up speed again and left the residential neighborhood, still unsure of where he was going. A familiar diner on the side of the road caught his attention and he pulled in. The smile on his face was as fake as his cheerfulness when he wished the waitress, whom he had known for years, a happy holiday. She didn’t call him on it, but she left him alone after bringing him his order. He picked at his food without realizing what he was doing, his mind too caught up in what had happened with Lilia to care about anything else. He had noticed, in the past few days, how cranky she was whenever she saw something that was holidays-related. He knew how much she hated pretending she was human, and he had been very careful not to ask her to follow traditions she wasn’t interested in. Because of that, he couldn’t understand how his one request – that they take a couple of nights off – had caused her to lash out so cruelly, especially when it hadn’t raised a comment from her a year earlier. She rarely ever reminded him so directly of what her nights had been like before they had Mated, and he was grateful to her for it. That she had chosen this night to talk of corpses and remind him how they had once been enemies had made it even more difficult to bear. But it was also a sign, he could recognize it now, that something was really bothering her, and it was undoubtedly more than the holiday trappings he hadn’t tried to force on her. He had to talk to her, and figure it out. And he had to do it before she had time to grow even angrier. It wasn’t often that they argued, but when they did, sparks flew and ignited fires that could be hard to extinguish. Abandoning his unfinished dinner, he returned to his car and drove home. The light he could see seeping from behind the drawn curtains made him hopeful; at least, she was there. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he had thought. Nothing, however, could have prepared him from the sight that greeted him when he opened the door. Beneath the mezzanine that was their bedroom, a tree was propped up against the wall, a handful of ornaments hanging from its discolored branches. At its feet, a box laid open, tissue paper and bubble wrap spilled around it. And standing next to the tree, Lilia was glaring for all she was worth as she hung up another ornament, a bit of tinsel adorning her hair. “That tree is evil,” she informed him, transferring her glare from said tree to Vincent. “Maybe you should have Don check it out. I bet it’s cursed or something just as unnatural. ”

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Repressing a chuckle, Vincent shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over the sofa on his way to the combat zone. “It looks like a normal tree to me,” he commented, keeping for himself his observation that the thin but tall thing, which had begun turning brown, had probably been the last in whatever lot Lilia might have found it. “What makes you think it’s evil?” “It fell on me twice,” she replied grumpily. “And look at me! I’m covered in scratches!” Her bare arms were indeed crisscrossed by light red marks; knowing for a fact how quickly Lilia healed from wounds much more serious than these, Vincent made a soothing noise but did not exactly worry. As he returned his attention to the tree and wondered whether pointing out that it wasn’t standing right was worth risking another of Lilia’s glares, an ornament attracted his gaze. Light blue and silver, it had lost some of its glitter over the years, but the words “Vincent’s First Christmas” were still easily readable. Reaching toward the glass ball without thinking, he cradled it in his palm; it had never seemed as small as it did at that instant. “You weren’t supposed to come back so early,” Lilia grumbled. “You never come back that fast when we argue. ” The comment didn’t register in Vincent’s mind, as he was still trying to process that Lilia had not only been decorating a Christmas tree, but she had been decorating it with the very same ornaments his family had used all throughout his childhood and until his mother had passed away. “Where did you get these?” he asked quietly, even though the answer was already obvious. “Your father sent them to me last week,” she replied, still grouchy. “Along with a bunch of pictures of you looking all smiling and content. ” There had been an edge of something in her voice on the last words, and Vincent turned to her, trying to read the same emotion on her face, but her features were too carefully blank. “And you decided to surprise me?” he prodded. “I wasn’t going to. And then you were so mad earlier…” She sighed, the façade of forced crankiness vanishing entirely. “I just thought it’d be nice to have you happy like on the pictures rather than mad at me. I never thought that damn tree would be so uncooperative. ” And just like that, the pieces of the puzzle clicked, and Vincent figured out why she had been so irritable for the past few days. She must have been arguing with herself about what to do with the ornaments. Left to her own devices, she more often than not acted

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as a human would in many situations; but if anyone asked her to play the act, she invariably dug in her heels and refused. Vincent did his best not to antagonize her by pretending she was something else than a vampire, but his father still hadn’t learned. It made the fact that she had gotten a tree, set it up and started decorating it, all of it to please him, even more special, and he couldn’t help laughing lightly in delight. “What?” Lilia snapped instantly, the façade back up in a flash. “Did I do it wrong? Why are you laughing?” “Earlier you were claiming to be an evil vampire,” he grinned. “How does that fit in with setting up a tree for me?” Clearly, she didn’t appreciate his teasing. Her eyes darkened as she scowled at him. “You know what, Jordan?” she said, her voice brimming with anger. “You can take your fucking tree and go to hell for all I…” There was one sure way to shut Lilia up, and Vincent had no reservations about using it. Catching her in his arms so that her own were trapped along her body, he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her, hunting down her lips again a couple of times when she turned away and weakly, unconvincingly, pretended to fight him off. She soon gave up the battle and he sweetened his kiss as she finally accepted it, making his touch a light caress on her lips and tongue. She remained passive for a few more seconds, but eventually added her passion to the kiss, setting Vincent’s mind and body on fire. His hold slackened just enough for her to slip her arms around him, and he couldn’t help but smile and break the kiss when she did. “Thank you,” he murmured. Head slightly tilted to one side, she considered him for a few instants, as though trying to decide if he meant his words, before almost, but not quite, returning the smile. “You’re welcome. But I’m warning you, don’t expect a gift. The tree was it. Even if it’s not finished. ” Her words struck him, because, in the same instant, she was admitting she had gotten him a Christmas gift, and trying to make it sound as though it didn’t matter to her. He knew better than that. If Lilia didn’t care about something, she simply didn’t bother with it. There was no halfway for her. And he suspected that her grouchy attitude was due to the fact that he had returned too early for her to be done with her preparations. It made his lack of gift for her even more uncomfortable. He had planned to buy her a little something and give it to her without making a big deal out of it, just as he had done the previous year, but with the way she had snarked against anything related to the holiday season, he had given up on the notion. It wouldn’t matter, though, he decided in

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the time it took him to lean in and kiss her again. He knew what the perfect gift was for her. He had always known. ~ Lilia’s fear that her gift, if she could call it that, wouldn’t be enough to make Vincent forget their argument and her hateful words had vanished the instant he had laid his lips on hers. Something in her had demanded that she not give in so easily, but she could never resist him. When he touched her, kissed her, looked at her sometimes even, that Mating link that bonded them would wake and ask for more. More touches and kisses, more than looks; simply more of him. And to be in his arms, now, to be kissing him when a few hours earlier they had both been so angry, felt better than anything else in the world. Without hurrying, they undressed each other, taking turns to rediscover each other’s bodies as they were slowly exposed. Lilia made a point of kissing the round scar just above his heart; she still blamed herself for distracting him, a few months back, and allowing a vampire to use Vincent’s own stake against him. She had been so scared of losing him, that night… A playful nip at her shoulder brought her back to the present. “I’m fine,” he said quietly, his lips now trailing over the shell of her ear, and she realized that her arms, wrapped tightly around his waist, had to be uncomfortable. It seemed she always ended up smothering him when she thought back of that close call, and over the months he had learned to recognize her fear for what it was. She smiled up at him a bit sheepishly, and he kissed her again, nice and slow; as nice as his body pressing against hers, heated flesh warming her own and making her burn for him; as slow as his hands, cupping her breasts one moment, then sliding down, one to caress her ass, the other to the apex of her legs. She mirrored his touch, pressing him closer to her with one hand, massaging his cock with the other, never letting go of those so talented lips until he pulled back from their kiss. “I’ve got a gift for you too,” he said, his eyes sparkling, and Lilia grinned. “I know. I’ve found it already. ” She squeezed the hardness in her hand to punctuate her words, eliciting a small gasp from Vincent’s lips. “And I think I want to try it. ” Still grinning, she pulled him down to lie on the floor and straddled his hips. That first instant when he slid inside her was always incredible and breathtaking. It had been almost two years since their first night together under Don’s spell, but every time, it was the same for Lilia. Every inch of him penetrating her, stretching her, made her feel so amazingly complete that she couldn’t understand how she could have ever lived without him.

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The best, though, was the look upon Vincent’s face and the realization that he felt the same. After a brief pause to enjoy the feel of him deep within her, she rested her hands on his chest and used the leverage to raise herself until he had almost completely slipped out. The feeling of being bereft was worth it, if only to experience his cock entering her again, the sensation as familiar as ever and yet always new in some way. “That wasn’t my gift,” he grunted as she repeated the motion, a little faster now. His hands clutched at her hips, guiding and following her movements all at once. “It wasn’t?” His cock struck just a little deeper when he raised his hips just as she was bearing down, and she moaned. “It’s a… fine gift, though. ” “Can’t give you what’s already yours. ” She faltered for a second at the words before resuming her rocking, clenching her muscles around him now so each thrust down was that much tighter, the sensations that much intense. He was close; she knew his body well enough to see that. His eyes were very dark as they alternated between shutting tight and looking at her. His hands were tight enough that they would probably leave marks, and he would apologize in the morning, never understanding her pride in them – her pride that she could make him lose himself in her that much. “So, what was my gift?” she managed to ask, her voice strained as she struggled to push him toward his release, knowing that hers would follow from feeling him pulse inside her. He startled her by sitting up abruptly, stilling her movements as he held her close to his chest. “This was,” he murmured, tilting his head so that he was offering his neck to her. Her eyes latched onto the two punctures mark she had left there the night they had Mated, two marks she had opened again when she had come so very close to killing him while under her Sire’s thrall, and once more when Vincent had wanted to prove he truly loved her, demon or not. “I know you miss human blood,” he continued when, after a few seconds, she hadn’t moved at all. “I can spare a few mouthfuls. For you. ” Lilia wanted to protest, to refuse, to point out to him what he was suggesting was dangerous, and stupid, and unnecessary. She had told herself the same things many times over the past year and half to prevent herself from asking him, even when she craved his blood so strongly that she could barely look at him. Especially then. But the arguments in her head faded as she slowly remembered who he was. He was a Special Enforcer, and as such he knew, better than most humans, what vampires were capable of; there was no need to remind him of the risk that she might go too far, take

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too much. He knew it, and he wasn’t offering her his neck lightly. He was also her Mate, her partner in bed and in the hunt, and the gesture spelled out, more clearly than words ever could, that he trusted her with his very life. How could she refuse such a gift? Rocking herself lightly onto his cock to recapture the moment, she pressed her lips to his mouth, then trailed them down his jaw and to his neck. Tiny flicks of her tongue against the raised scars that were already there made Vincent gasp and arch up into her, and Lilia grinned against his skin as her fangs extended. Finding the exact spot where she had bitten before was easy. She slid her fangs in gently, piercing his skin as delicately as she could; Vincent shuddered, his arms tightening around her, holding her even closer as she started pulling on his blood. The first mouthful had him gasping; at the second, his orgasm tore trough him, sweetening his blood with pleasure and making Lilia moan as her body responded to both his cock surging in her and his blood flooding her mouth. It was better than she remembered, more flavorful for the many months of passionate love they had shared, and she had to fight herself to stop drawing more blood, before she took too much. Vincent groaned when she finally pulled away; at first she thought it was in pain, but she soon realized that it was in protest. “You barely took anything,” he mumbled as they collapsed to the floor, limbs still entangled, their bodies so close they felt as though they were one. “Even doctors take more than that when humans donate blood. ” Still a little dazed, it took Lilia an instant to understand what he was saying, and when she did she chuckled quietly. “It’s OK,” she murmured when he gave her a questioning look. “It’s not even midnight yet. I can enjoy my gift some more when it’s really Christmas. ” She didn’t really mean that; it had been hard to stop the first time around, she didn’t want to tempt fate and risk robbing Vincent of the life that made him so precious to her. But his smile held nothing back, and neither did his words. “Anything you want, Lilia. ” He kissed her, soft and chaste, his hand cupping her face and caressing her cheek as lightly as a breeze. When he drew back, he was still smiling; only then did she recognize his smile. It was the same one she had seen on each of the pictures sent to her with the ornaments. And in one instant of clarity, brought forth, maybe, by this feeling of being as close to Vincent as she had been at the instant they had become Mates, she understood. The child on the pictures hadn’t been happy because of fragile glass and shimmering glitter. He had been happy because he had been loved. And the man Vincent had become was still happy for the same simple but crucial reason. “Merry Christmas, love,” she said right against his lips, and claimed his smile as hers.

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The End

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HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU Caro Kinkead

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Of all the gin joints in all the world, she had to walk into mine. It was a demon fight in an alley rather than some exotic café, but Danny still found the quote apropos. Two years after they'd last fought side by side in a cavern collapsing as violently as their relationship, Christine was at his side once more, blade flashing as she added her strength to his. No greetings, no small talk, just shouted warnings as they fell back into step with one another as if they had never been apart. Only when the demon lie dead, dark fluid oozing onto the cement, did they stop to stare at one another across the corpse in painful silence, their breath forming small puffs in the chill night air. Danny had played this scene in his head a million times, tried out a thousand lines and put the two of them in a hundred different settings. Silence and the stink of demon guts somehow never figured into the picture. "What the hell are you doing in Atlanta?" Not the greeting he'd dreamed of, but he saw no sense in giving her the satisfaction of knowing that. Deliberately, he let his body relax into the slouch she used to describe as sexy, thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jeans, a smirk on his face. “Working a case. I could ask the same of you. The last I heard, you'd retired from field work at Roger's insistence and were running around with some actor.” Even in the dim light, he could see her cheeks flush. "Do you have to stand there trying to look like a male model in an underwear ad?" she snapped. "It is not attractive. What I do with my life stopped being your business two years ago when you decided to throw away everything I thought we believed in." She paused, annoyance replaced by a puzzled frown. "Where did you hear about Ian?" He was about to answer when she did it for him. "Scott, of course, when Roger sent him on that job in Los Angeles. Why am I not surprised he blabbed about my private life? He doesn't know the meaning of the word 'discreet’." In other circumstances, Danny might have sympathized, but these weren't other circumstances. "If you think I'm interested or jealous of what's-his-name..." "Ian. His name is Ian." "...Some two-bit actor, you're wrong. I'm on a job. Alan and I are doing quite well for ourselves…or didn't Scott mention that?" He said the words with a sneer, on the alert for some chink in her armor. He didn't like that he still felt an ache when he looked at her. They were done, even if their separate paths led to this alley. The corpse produced a disgusting noise as gas escaped, and they retreated upwind.

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“Shame it can't just dissolve to dust like a respectable demon,” he complained. “If it keeps decomposing like that, I don't think we need to worry about leaving anything recognizable behind.” His head turned sharply at the “we.” It had to be just a slip of the tongue; there wasn't anything to be read in the way she wrinkled her nose at the stench, her dark ponytail bobbing with every movement. Or so he told himself. “What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone softening. "I don't mean Atlanta, but right here? I was in control of the situation.” “Which is why I found you backed into a corner?” “It was a strategic retreat," he protested. "I was going to…” Danny stopped as he realized she'd spoken in her old teasing tone while he'd reacted with anger. That was why he’d never followed through on his impulses to call her; he’d been afraid they’d start picking at one another again. “It’s good to see you, Christine,” he said with deliberate calmness. “Thank you for your help.” She stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. "You're welcome," she managed at last. "I heard the noise and decided to investigate. I didn't even realize it was you until I’d charged.” He'd thrown her off balance, which suited him fine. Maybe they could both talk like adults. “It must be an important job if old Roger sent his top operative all the way from London.” The walls went up, a sudden frost in her eyes and tension radiating from her body. “I can't talk about it, Danny, and you know it. You left the Society, decided to sell your services to the highest bidder, and from what I understand, you and Alan aren't always picky about who your clients are." Danny turned on his heel and walked away. As long as she followed the company line, it didn't matter what explanations he might offer. Screw that; there was a job to do and the moment he finished, he was free of his obligations. He would deliver the crystal to Alan, then find himself a place where they’d never heard of demons or the people who hunted them and get very, very drunk. Play it, Sam. ~ As she walked down Peachtree Street, the same thoughts kept pounding in Christine's brain: Stupid, arrogant, irritating...did I mention arrogant? Arrogant definitely makes the top of the list.

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Twenty-four hours and she couldn't get Danny out of her head. She'd gone about her business, picked up the trail she'd been following, but couldn't stop thinking about how he'd given her the same old smirk and come hither look with his green eyes, only to walk away…just like the last time. Feeling the anger start to rise from a slow simmer, Christine stopped and took a deep breath. She needed to calm before she continued, center herself and focus on the job at hand. She might as well check in with Roger; she should have called him earlier, but she wasn't eager to tell him about Danny's appearance. Roger's response to the news was somewhat evasive. "There's no proof the agency they started is still involved with Tyris Enterprises. Scott certainly didn't see any evidence when he was there, and looking was part of his job. I'd still prefer you don't share any information until you know what he's up to. Just because we have no proof doesn't mean there isn't a connection…and I don't like the timing of his appearance." "I don't like it, either," Christine admitted. "But it's not like he came looking for me. I found him. Hopefully, it is just a coincidence, and I won't see him again." "I should certainly hope not." Roger sounded grumpy. "He's put you through enough already. Don't let him distract you, and come home soon. Clarice is so looking forward to having you as a guest for Christmas again." No, she wasn't the only one who hadn't forgiven Danny for leaving. Christine promised to be careful, although she avoided making any promises about Christmas. Roger and Clarice had taken her in that first dreadful holiday season when Danny had left and the one after that, but she wasn't keen on making it a tradition. Deciding she'd lingered long enough, she continued down the sidewalk, past the small museum dedicated to Margaret Mitchell. If she had the chance when this was done, she'd stop in and pick up some souvenirs for her English friends who joked about Gone With the Wind being oh-so-American. That was, of course, assuming Atlanta was the end of the trail. The quick pickup had turned into two weeks of tracking the Jungah demon across Asia and Europe until the trail eventually led from Geneva to Atlanta, her longest assignment since Danny had left. The cities had become a blur; even the holiday lights were starting to look the same. Christine pulled a city map from her pocket and checked her destination, turning left at the corner. She passed apartment houses that had seen better days despite the brave show of holiday lights they wore. Another reason to buckle down and finish the job; only then could she go home and see if she could find the holiday spirit. Only then could she consider how she felt about Danny's reappearance.

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~ Danny made several visits to bars not on the tourist maps and knocked more than one pair of heads together, but he got the information he wanted. A Jungah demon was in town toting some type of crystal. The judicious breaking of two fingers out of his informant's eight scaly ones gave him the address. His family had spent more than one summer visiting relatives here, and it felt strange to realize that many of the buildings looked the same, if a little shabbier with age. Like dowagers awaiting a face-lift. It was a metaphor for the holding pattern he found himself in, uncertain what the future held. He found a spot for his Explorer, close enough for a quick get away if needed, but not so close to alert anyone--or anything--to his presence. Surprise was a good thing. His destination lay halfway down the block in an alley between two buildings. There was no sign of his other quarry, so he had hopefully arrived first--save for the fact that Christine approached from the opposite direction. Danny waited, certain she'd realize his presence after a moment. When she did, she started guiltily. "Stop following me!" she said, her eyes flashing an angry warning. He couldn't help enjoying her obvious discomfort. "I wasn't following you. For one thing, I got here first, which raises the question: why are you following me?" "I am not..." Even as he braced himself for a rant, she stopped in mid sentence, frowning. "What exactly are you tracking?" It was his turn to bristle. "It's not something the Society needs to stick its nose into." He started to turn away, then turned back. "Just for the record, we're not doing this for Tyris Enterprises, no matter what you might think." He expected accusation and argument, but she fell silent for a long moment, then nodded as she always did when she settled an internal argument. "I'm on the trail of a Jungah demon. He has something known as a Greivas crystal which is supposed to be a powerful focus of some kind." Danny didn't understand the reason for the change, but he wasn't going to argue. "The crystal is used in certain rituals to harness trans-dimensional energies to supplement the caster's power. As you can imagine, the rituals are generally nasty." Realization sank in. "Let me guess; the Society heard it came on the market and wants to take it out of circulation." "It didn't just come on the market; remember Thomas Starkey out in Sri Lanka?" Christine's face grew hard and for the first time he noticed a tiredness in her eyes. "The Jungah killed him and three of his students to get it. What's your interest?"

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Danny did remember Starkey, a researcher who loved his books, local mythology and a good gin and tonic as the sun went down. He remembered sharing a few of those on the verandah when he and Christine journeyed to that end of the world. No surprise she'd taken this one on herself; he'd have done the same. "There's a collector in Los Angeles who is interested and we decided upsetting the deal might be a good thing. It's one of the reasons we're persona non grata with some of our former clients." He thought of it as a good thing; Alan's reluctance still worried him. "So you plan to take it back to Los Angeles with you." She drew closer, the gap between them shrinking. "Roger wants me to bring it back to London." Danny snorted. "Where it will be locked up in the repository every black market dealer knows about, giving all sorts of unsavory types the opportunity to break in and steal it? No, thank you. Alan found a ritual that's supposed to destroy the thing." "Roger has a ritual to destroy it as well." "I like that plan better," he admitted. "Roger's less likely to set the carpets on fire." She laughed, a sudden smile decorating her face. Danny couldn't help but soften, remembering how many times he'd basked in her smile. Maybe it was something in the night air, but he found it a simple matter to lean forward and kiss her. Christine's mouth parted in surprise as his lips brushed across hers and he expected her haul off and hit him, but she relaxed into him, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. The kiss lasted far longer than he dared hoped, and when she pulled back to catch her breath, he wished it hadn't ended. Now they were left staring at one another, and Danny wondered if the surprise and awkwardness in her eyes were mirrored in his own. Words vanished, leaving only enough to know he couldn't fill the silence between them. Christine swallowed and stepped back several quick steps. "I, uh, maybe we should see if the demon's in." He'd overstepped his bounds; he saw it in the way she looked everywhere but at him. "Christine..." She glanced at the hand he stretched toward her and turned away. "We have a job to do." Not knowing a better course of action, he followed as she headed for the stairs to the basement apartment. He was an idiot; that was the only explanation.

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~ As she descended the stairs, Christine tried to ignore Danny's presence without much success. She couldn't believe he'd kissed her. She couldn't believe she'd kissed back. She couldn't believe how good it had felt. Why now? The pieces of her life were coming back together. But he appeared and she had felt a piece she didn't know was missing click back into place when he’d kissed her. The last thing she needed to do was encourage him further. Did she want to encourage him? Wondering just whose side her brain was on, she stopped in front of the door. "Knock or just barge in?" If he was here, she might as well ask his opinion, use it as a gauge against her own. "It'd be more civilized to knock first," Danny said from beside her. His voice was cool and controlled, as if the kiss had never happened. "Let's be civilized." How hard had they tried to do that at the end and failed? Christine knocked and they waited, hands hovering near the weapons beneath their coats, but no noise came from inside. Another knock, followed by more silence. Cautiously, she tried the doorknob and felt it turn easily at her touch. "This is never good." "So he's either dead or taken off. If he's dead, we need to find who has the crystal now. If he's taken off, we need to figure out where he's headed." Danny stepped across the threshold. "Either way, it's a mess." The light from the single bulb that hung from the ceiling revealed a cramped, dingy room with little more than a few sticks of furniture that looked like they'd been broken and put back together a few times. A sink in the corner and something that resembled a toilet comprised the only amenities. "Doesn't look like there was a fight," he said. Christine resisted the temptation to joke that it reminded her of his bachelor flat in London. No need to dredge that memory up. "Doesn't look like there was much of anything. Are you sure this is the address?" "I got my information from a different source than you, which means it's as good as we're likely to get. Something was here recently. Look at the way the bed's mussed." The worn covers were thrown back as if whoever--or whatever--last slept there couldn't be bothered to make the bed when they'd gotten up. "Maybe it just went out for a sixpack." She sighed, dismissing the idea immediately. "Someone would have noticed something. A Jungah's fairly conspicuous.” Danny rummaged through the newspapers on the bit of plastic that had probably once

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borne a resemblance to a coffee table. "I haven't actually seen one in the flesh, but I remember some pretty ugly pictures in the books." "Take my word for it; this one is over six feet tall and hisses when it talks." He stopped rustling the paper. "You've taken it on." "Once in Sri Lanka and then in Austria." Christine shivered with a chill that had nothing to do with the lack of heating and wrapped her arms around herself. "I tracked it to Geneva and found it'd gotten a flight to the States." Danny looked skeptical. "I can't see airport security letting something like that through the checkpoints, not to mention passport control. As you said, conspicuous." "Some of the less reputable cargo carriers will take demons on without asking too many questions as long as the money is good. That may be why it came here instead of Los Angeles or somewhere else. This might be where the flight was headed." "And with you on its trail, it couldn't take the chance of waiting for something else." He abandoned the search with a sigh. "There's nothing here, and I'll bet it isn't planning on coming back. Wymere's supposed to be in town anyway, so it'll be rid of the crystal soon. Let's head out." Christine was grateful for the silence as they ascended the stairs. So much for the end of the trail. If the Jungah had indeed taken off or sold the crystal, the question now was where to next. She started to suggest they hit the demon hangouts again when he fumbled in his jacket and pulled out his cell. "I hope I remembered to charge the battery...Alan! No, I missed him. When's Wymere getting in? What? You're joking. No, I haven't checked my voice mail; I've been out trying to find me a demon. Uh, huh. Uh, huh. Well, that's interesting. I'll leave right away. Of course, I'll check in; what do you call this?" He ended the call and dropped the phone back into his pocket. "The buyer was supposed to arrive in Atlanta this evening, but he changed his flight plans at the last minute and is now heading for Charleston in the morning. Want to lay odds that's where our demon is? Oh, and the rumor's out that a hunter is tracking the Jungah, so he probably changed the rendezvous because he was worried you were on his trail." Our demon. It suddenly felt like old times and no matter how much she might want to avoid picking at wounds she'd thought healed, experience told her Danny was a damn good person to have watching her back. She wanted to be home for Christmas? She needed to make use of the tools available. "When do we leave? ~

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Heading east on I-20 with Atlanta receding in his rearview mirror, Danny couldn't believe Christine had agreed to join forces with him. For the fifth time in half an hour, he snuck a glance at her curled up in the passenger seat, just to make certain he wasn't imagining things. Christine had always been pragmatic about what she needed to get the job done, he told himself. If that meant joining forces with the man who'd walked out on her, that's what she'd do. Even so, it was six hours until they hit Charleston. Six hours alone with one other. He considered turning on the radio to fill the silence, but the last thing he wanted was an argument over some stupid pop song. "Are you enjoying it?" Her voice was so unexpected, he jumped, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Enjoying what?" "Los Angeles. The work you're doing. Everything." If she'd wanted to start off simple and not go for a loaded question, she'd picked the wrong thing. "Life in Los Angeles is interesting," he told her, choosing each word carefully. "Not exactly what I'd imagined, but I think we're doing some good work--the type I couldn't do in the Society." He waited for her next question, but she didn't seem to have one. As the silence stretched on, he grew fidgety and found himself talking just to fill the void. "You probably want to hear about the Tyris Enterprises situation. They offered us a nice retainer and the cash helped keep a roof over our head. Things were great for a while, but we started to get a bit uneasy about what we were being asked to do." She was watching him intently, her face carefully neutral. Taking a deep breath, Danny continued with the story. "The company had a retrieval job they wanted us to do--same type of stuff we're going after now, only they wanted it for their own use. Alan and I said no and a chunk of our client base dried up. Seems they don't take kindly to rejection." "So what happened next?" "We looked for other clients, started doing a bunch of run-of-the-mill jobs: cleaning out poltergeists, stopping hauntings, investigating paranormal phenomenon that exists only in the client's head. We also got our investigator licenses and do some divorce work from time to time when the bank account needs it. It might not be elevated and ancient like the Society's goals, but it gets the bills paid." He glanced over to the side and saw that considering look again. "Different from what you'd heard, right?" "Very different," she admitted. "Who's your client for this one?"

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"Ourselves." He shook his head. "We still do the noble thing from time to time when we can get away with it." At least he did; Alan insisted they needed to scale back on the nobility gigs. Another glance and he saw her nod. Maybe she still trusted half of what he said. "So, you still dating this actor?" he asked, doing his best not to sound as if it were anything beyond idle curiosity. "Scott couldn't stop raving about him." Christine made a face. "Scott can have him. Ian's very talented and the critics loved his Henry V last year. Trouble is, he thinks he's God's gift to women and every one he meets wants to sleep with him." "And they don't, but that doesn't stop him from trying." "No, a lot of them do; that's the trouble. Seems I wasn't the only one he was dating." He could hear the hurt in her voice and wondered if she'd cared for the louse or was just embarrassed at the situation. He could ask, but that would just bring the walls up again. "So..." She fiddled with the latch on the glove box, a habit she knew drove him crazy. "Scott clearly told you all about me, but he barely had a thing to say about you." "All I did was tell him as little as possible. He asked a few pointed questions, but I avoided those because he'd only babble some garbled version. I didn't see the use; no reason to break your little bubble and get you thinking about me again. I know what you do for the Society; you have more than enough on your plate without me adding to it." A short pause. "Thank you," she said at last. "For what?" "For not wanting to add to it all." Danny blinked, surprised at her response. "You're welcome," was all he could think of to say. They drove on, and the silence felt a little easier between them. Maybe the situation wasn't a complete disaster. Maybe they could both get through this with their sanity intact. "I wouldn't have minded." The voice was small, so small Danny almost didn't hear it. "It would have been nice to hear how you were doing, know you were getting on with your life."

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"Problem is, my feelings haven't changed." There was honesty--and then there was too much honesty. The moment the words left his mouth, he knew where he'd just landed. "Look, you don't have to say anything," he said in a rush, desperate to cover the silence. "We had a good run and you made it clear we were headed in different directions, that it was all over..." "When did I say that? "Differences of opinions and I guess I have to credit you for sticking to your principles, especially when everything around us was going to hell--literally." "Is that what you thought I was saying?" Christine practically shouted the words. "Danny, will you shut up for one minute and let me talk?" Danny shut up. Christine sighed, shifting in her seat. "I knew Alan was leaving, but I had no idea you were thinking of going with him. Then to tell me just as we're about to go do a job? That's the type of distraction that gets people killed. I only asked for a little time because I wanted to find out what was going on in your head." "You knew what was going on. I have never bought the Society's whole we are all that stands between light and dark, never changing, never wavering crap. It's only been called 'The Society' since the 1700s, for one thing. But every time I turned around, every time I tried to do what needed to be done, I got stopped because that's not the way the Society does things. I thought the idea was to save the world. We both know that means breaking the rules sometimes." "So that's why you treated me like the enemy? Roger asks me to be his second and you just look at me--then a week later say you're leaving for Los Angeles? You didn't even ask if I wanted to come with you." "Why would you? Roger promoted you, made it clear he plans to groom you to take over from him." "So you couldn't even take me into your confidence. Maybe it's better you left." The last words were choked with tears and she turned her head away to stare out the window. Danny tried to keep his eyes on the road, but it was hard given the sniffles he heard. "Christine. Chris..." "Just drive," she insisted, her voice like ice. Realizing there was nothing he could say at the moment, Danny did as he was told. It was going to be a long night. ~

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Christine leaned forward to put her head between her knees, and wished the world would stop spinning. Yet another glowing success in the story of her love life, hiding in the ladies' room of a tacky little restaurant somewhere between Atlanta and Charleston, trying to figure out how she could catch the first plane back to London without having to face Danny again. She'd made a fool of herself, weeping for almost an hour until he'd pulled into a place called Stuckey's with its promise of gas and food. She'd been out of the car and fleeing to the ladies' room before he'd even cut the engine. He had to be getting impatient, wondering when she'd emerge. If he got impatient enough, he might even leave without her, which would certainly solve part of the problem. It didn't solve the problem of the Jungah demon, though. She knew Danny wouldn't give up without tracking the beast and getting the crystal--and neither could she. It was the memory of the carnage in Starkey's home that got her up and moving. A glance in the mirror over the sink and she decided the redness around her eyes wasn't too bad once she’d splashed some water on her face. It wasn't as if she needed to hide the fact she'd been crying from Danny, anyway. She emerged to discover Danny at the cashier's station waiting as something was rung up. The faux wood paneling and harsh fluorescent lights made the woman in the polyester uniform, hair net and white cap look seriously dead--as in living dead. Of course, it made Danny look the same way, so it was probably just the environment. The big blinking Christmas lights only added to the ambience. He scooped something off the counter and offered it to her. "I've ordered to go, but I thought this might help in the meantime." Christine looked down to find two wrapped pieces of candy labeled Pecan Logs in his outstretched hand. She started to tell him she didn't need the sugar, but her stomach growled and she reached for one. Danny smiled and slipped the other into his jacket pocket as she removed the cellophane and bit down into the gooey confection. "This is good," she managed between chews. "I used to love these as a kid. Thought you might enjoy the treat." She couldn't help smiling, and some of her panic receded. How many times had she enjoyed his thoughtfulness? Deep inside, she could feel the hint of a warm glow as they waited in silence for the takeout, the kind of silence they didn't need to fill with insults. She missed those silences. They had been one of the first things to draw her to him. With all the chaos and confusion in her life, all the expectations placed on her, Danny had proved her refuge. With him, she could relax and simply be, able to admit to the fears and doubts she couldn't show anyone else. Once he'd gone, silence became the enemy, something to be filled so she didn't think about the regrets. To find that peace

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and stillness here and now was a gift. Their order appeared and Danny handed her one of the drinks, while he grabbed the two Styrofoam take-out boxes and the other cup. Even with his hands full, he still managed to wrangle the door open for her, which provoked another smile. So many memories of their time together were like this, the little attentions and gentle silences and Danny just being there. Sometimes that was the one thing that kept her from going insane. Once she settled into the passenger seat, he handed over the boxes. She opened one to find a roast beef sandwich cut on the diagonal and fries with small containers of coleslaw, ketchup and barbeque sauce. The bread was toasted sourdough, which he knew was her favorite, but almost impossible to get in London. It was solid protein and carbs, all the things she needed. If he'd asked what she wanted, she probably would have ordered a salad and picked at it. Christine popped open the container of barbeque sauce, dunked a corner of the sandwich and bit down. "Mmmm." "I thought you'd like it," Danny said with a grin as he pulled back onto the highway. "These places look like crap, but the food can be incredible. I wish we had time for a sitdown meal because I saw a plate of ribs go by that looked..." He smacked his lips and she had the sudden image of him biting into a rib, then coming away with barbeque sauce smeared around a decidedly wolfish grin. She laughed, coughing a little from the bite of sandwich she was still chewing. Danny's grin grew a bit broader as he gunned the engine, picking up speed. Christine ate her sandwich while she watched the signs point the way to Charleston and found herself wishing she could make the quiet times last a little longer. ~ Dawn was breaking over the Charles River as the suburbs of Charleston came into view. Danny glanced to his right to catch sight of Christine asleep in the passenger seat, the early morning light picking up the reddish highlights in her hair. He wasn't fool enough to think they were in any way, shape, or form good with each other, but for just a brief moment, there seemed no harm in pretending. He still wasn't sure what to make of her insistence that she hadn't meant things were over. He'd seen the promotion as a sign she didn't care and taken Alan up on his offer, not stopping to think through the consequences. It was only recently that he'd begun to admit to himself he might have made a mistake, but that didn't mean Christine's confession was necessarily welcome news.

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He didn't understand, anymore than he understood the tears and fleeing to the noman's land of the ladies' room. At least his decision about the sandwich had been right; she'd probably been running on reserves for several days as she often did in the field, pushing herself too hard. Poor girl. She needed someone to look after her. He still wished that someone could be him. There were pressing matters that demanded their attention, so Danny reluctantly reached over and nudged Christine's shoulder. "Wakey-wakey." "Huh? I'm awake, I'm awake." She took a moment to get her bearings, blinking in the morning light. "The...sun's up. I thought I was supposed to take a turn driving." "You looked so peaceful, I didn't have the heart to bother you." Before she could protest, he added, "We need to find somewhere to crash and you've always been better at that sort of thing." She shook her head and muttered something about him not being allowed out on his own as she reached for the bag she'd dumped in the back seat. "Any idea where he's staying?" she asked. "Alan said he was booked into someplace called the Market Pavilion, which is probably expensive, given his tastes." Extracting two thick paperbacks, Christine began to thumb through them. Eyes fixed on the page, she commented, "I noticed you didn't tell Alan I was with you. Nearby or further away?" "Nearby if the place is in the historic district; only real way to get around there is on foot. I don't see you calling Roger with the news either." It was hard to keep a defensive note out of his voice in response to hers. "That's different; Roger would fuss." "Alan would be snide. You're hardly his favorite person and I don't feel like using my minutes listening to a lecture on why I'm an idiot to be within five miles of you." She didn't reply, just frowned and reached back to grab a third book. "Staying at the Market Pavilion is out," she said after a very long, very quiet moment. "It's so small he might see us before we're ready. There is, however, a Doubletree down the street that's larger and more anonymous. We'll get a good discount with the Hilton Honors card, too. Save the world and earn miles." She was trying, at least. They both were, painfully attempting to avoid stepping on one another's toes or crossing some invisible line. But Danny could also feel the old buzz

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starting at the base of his skull, the one he always used to get when he and Christine were hot on the trail of some ugly. It was an adrenalin kick he'd been missing for far too long. "You've got the book; just tell me where to go." ~ If she were rating spots for a restful vacation, Christine would place Charleston high on the list. The languid atmosphere of the city whispered a seductive invitation to stop and let the world continue on without her for a while. She wanted to sample those charms some day, but for now she could only enjoy them from the window of the hotel room. She and Danny had slept the morning away, taking advantage of the fact Wymere wasn't supposed to get in until late afternoon. Danny had dropped from exhaustion as soon as they'd reached the room, pausing only for a brief argument over who would get the king-size bed and who'd sleep on the expansive sofa in the room's sitting area. Despite his best efforts at chivalry, Christine won the battle, insisting he owed it to her after not letting her share in last night's driving chores. As she watched the tourists stroll by, Christine felt glad some things hadn't changed. He still wanted to protect her, she still felt the urge to mother him--at least when she didn't want to strangle him and/or jump his bones. The phone rang, and Danny began to stir. Before he could answer and bark at whomever had woken him, Christine picked up one of the two extensions. "This is the wake-up call you requested, Miss Lawson," the operator said, her soft, honeyed tones hardly suggesting they should stir. "It's two o'clock." As she thanked the woman and hung up, Danny levered himself into a sitting position with a groan. "This was easier when I was younger." It struck Christine that for some absurd reason she'd missed the morning complaints, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "What time is Wymere supposed to get here?" "The flight's scheduled to get in around two-thirty, so I figure he'll reach his hotel between three-thirty and four o'clock, which gives us plenty of time to get settled in position." Danny yawned and absently rubbed at his rumpled curls. "It's been a while since I've been on a stakeout," she said as she sat on the edge of the bed. "You need a haircut." "Still queen of the subject change, I see." He shrugged. "I'll get around to it. There've been more important things on my plate." She shook her head, which caused him to grin at her. She wrinkled her nose and he wrinkled back, which led to leaning in closer to one another to see who could wrinkle the

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most--which led to another kiss. This was more lust-filled than the previous evening, a feeling of urgency surging through Christine at the contact. This was what she'd been missing. It wasn't the physical touch --there'd been several attractive and accomplished men in her life--it was his touch. It was the way his hand stroked her hair and trailed down to caress the skin of her throat before moving even lower still to cup her breast through the t-shirt she wore. It was the certain scent she'd come to connect with home and closeness filling her nostrils and the way he moaned just a little against her lips when she let her hand slide across that certain spot just above his waist. She could feel her own heartbeat increase as he pushed her back onto the mattress and knew it was echoed by his own. This was good; all the empty spaces filling as his hands slid under her shirt, touching bare skin. That's what she wanted, to be skin to skin with him, knowing that when they were together, there was nothing they couldn't do. She couldn't help groaning when he pulled back, feeling suddenly bereft by his absence. "What the hell are we doing?" he asked, staring down at her. "I though it was obvious," Christine said as she reached for him, but he pulled back even further. "Damn obvious, but what about later? We get the crystal, you go flying back to London and I have a few scraps to pull out when I'm taking a shower and need a little encouragement?" He rolled off the bed and moved toward the opposite side of the room. "No thanks. Losing you once was bad enough; I don't want to go through it a second time." She started to demand, what about what I want?, but stopped when she saw the pain in his eyes. Suddenly the warm place inside her emptied again in a rush. He was right; the thought of what came next hadn't even crossed her mind. The realization was enough to make her climb off the bed and begin rummaging through her bag, all too aware of his gaze. Clothes in hand, she pushed past him to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Another bathroom, another toilet to sit on with her head between her knees. When had they lost the ability to communicate in a straight line? When had what they wanted become so different? She couldn't see herself in Los Angeles--even without abandoning everything she'd worked for, there was still the little obstacle of Alan. He wouldn't appreciate her hanging around and she wouldn't have anywhere else in the city to go for work, demon hunting not being a widely marketable skill. There wasn't any reason for Danny to return to London, either. He'd made his feelings about the Society quite clear when he'd left. Realizing nothing would be solved by sitting there, Christine reached for her clothes.

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She'd get dressed and go out to face him, try to find some common ground to get through this thing without dissolving into the sniping that marked their last job together. After all, there was the mission to think of. The mission was a damn poor substitute for a partner, but if she chewed on that for too long, she'd just end up sitting with her head between her knees a third time. Danny had dressed when she emerged and stood by the window, staring out at some point in the distance. She stopped a few steps into the room, realizing her hastily cobbled together speech on why they needed to put aside their differences sounded condescending and now she found herself unwilling to make the first move. Without turning his head, he said in a measured, even tone, "I think we should stroll over to the Market Pavilion and find a nice inconspicuous corner with a good view of the front desk. I want you to get a good look at Wymere before we start the stakeout." The fragile peace between them was gone and she didn't know how to recapture it. "Good idea," she said, deciding to play it his way because there seemed to be no other. A nod of his head and he started for the door. Christine followed close behind, so close that when he stopped abruptly, she almost ran into him. Before she could ask what was up, he'd turned and caught her face between his hands. Looking down at her with a frightening intensity, he said, "I will always love you. Never doubt that." Before she could reply, he was out the door and she knew there'd be no answer until this was done. ~ Danny hated waiting. He hated stakeouts because they were mostly waiting. He really hated waiting around the corner for Christine to call with news. At least Wymere had gotten in on schedule, which meant they stood a chance of finishing this tonight. Then Christine could get on a plane for London and he could try to forget this had ever happened while he figured out his next move. He'd been a fool to hope, even for a moment, that her appearance was more than a coincidence, that maybe there might be some way for them to cut through all the baggage. Now the best plan seemed to be go back to Los Angeles, take his lumps from Alan and try to figure out a way to make the agency work. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he sipped at the take-out cup of coffee and found he'd reached the dregs. Christine was the best choice to be on site at this point, he told himself, if for no other reason than Wymere didn't know her. That was why she'd been able to stroll casually by and linger near the main desk when Wymere and his thugs arrived, leaving Danny spitting nails in his corner because he'd had no warning she was going to move. She'd returned triumphant with the news Wymere had told the

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thugs to be in the lobby at eleven for the meeting--and annoyed because he'd had to repeat himself. Danny's only consolation for the wait was the avoidance of small talk. Dinner had been awkward, with little to say to one another, though the walk afterwards through the narrow streets of Charleston's historic district, decorated in its Christmas glory, had been surprisingly pleasant. As he'd pointed out the chief landmarks, he'd told her some of the tales he'd heard from his paternal grandmother who'd grown up not far from where they walked. He didn't let the illusion of easy companionship seduce him. Just. Get. It. Done. If he kept saying those words long enough, maybe he'd believe them. The cell trilled and he grabbed for it. "Yeah?" "They've come down." Christine's voice was a harsh whisper. "I'm on my way." Danny was starting to move even as he spoke. The hunt was on and moving into high gear quicker than expected. No time now to dwell on his personal problems; first and foremost was their quarry. The hotel came in sight, but there was no sign of Wymere or Christine. Even as he wondered which direction they had gone, his phone beeped again. Reminding himself to put it on vibrate, he flipped it open to hear Christine's voice. "We're heading west down Horlbeck Alley. Any idea where that might be taking us?" "Nowhere that's demon-friendly." He was jogging now, doing his best to cover ground and close the distance. "Any possibility you've been spotted?" "I don't think so. The thugs don't seem particularly worried and I'm following as far back as I can since the streets are so deserted." Charleston wasn't the type of city that never slept and the streets were indeed deserted, the tourists who'd been out looking at holiday decorations earlier now gone and the lights dimmed. "What's the nearest street to where you are?" "Just crossing Meeting Street. I can see some church steeples ahead, two of them." Danny ran through his knowledge of Charleston geography. If this was Savannah, he could make an educated guess without thinking; he knew the demon haunts of his hometown like the back of..." "I bet he's heading for the churchyard of the Unitarian Church." Danny veered to his right, heading down a side street, hurrying his pace. "They keep it in a natural state, so it's got all sorts of places where a demon wouldn't be that obvious. Wait at the gate; don't follow him in without me."

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He half expected an argument, but Christine replied, "Don't worry, I have no intention of going in without a backup." "Good girl. I'll be there as quick as I can. Let me know if they change direction." Danny ended the call and began to run. ~ Christine could feel the tension build in her body, an almost palpable buzz in her ears. This was the end and she couldn't wait to get moving. Danny had taken less than five minutes to join her, but she'd still almost thrown caution to the wind, no matter what she'd told him on the phone, and gone after Wymere. All the mess back at the hotel didn't matter at this point--stopping her quarry did. The churchyard was the perfect site for a rendezvous of this sort, the paths shaded by numerous trees with overhanging branches to prevent prying by casual eyes. Those same trees also provided cover for eyes intent on watching their quarry. The Jungah appeared just after they positioned themselves, slithering from the shadows on the opposite side. Wymere, who'd been waiting since before Danny and Christine had slipped into place, wasn't impressed. "I generally expect promptness from the people I meet with." "Ssssso sssssorry," the Jungah hissed. "I made a wrong turn. Did you bring the money?" One of the thugs started to step forward with the briefcase he carried, but Wymere held up his hand. "I'd like to see the goods first." A single flash of moonlight on the crystal was all it took for Christine to launch herself, the knife from her boot sheath sliding easily into her hand. Even without looking, she knew Danny was moving as well, heading for Wymere and his thugs while she went for the demon. It was as big and ugly as she remembered, but the element of surprise was on her side and it was hampered by the way it clutched the crystal to its chest. "You!" "Miss me?" The words were light, but the tone was not, punctuated by a slash of the knife. There was nothing amusing about this fight because she knew one of them wasn't going to walk away. The Jungah hissed and swiped at her with its free hand. Christine ducked, having no desire to connect with those claws. She wished for a better weapon, but a sword would

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have been too obvious in the hotel lobby, even under her long coat. Suddenly, Danny was there, bringing his own weapon to bear. It was just what she needed, both of them striking at once, hammering the Jungah with blows even as it at last tossed the crystal away to defend itself. Even together, it wasn't an easy fight and they were both bruised when the Jungah went down with a gaping hole in its gut, gasping for air. Grimfaced, Christine moved quickly, knife at the ready. "This is for Thomas Starkey and his students." She drove the knife down into the Jungah's heart, and it died with a scream that tore through the night air and reverberated in her bones. Pulling her weapon free, Christine looked up to find Danny watching her with concern--and just a touch of fear. "Where's the damn crystal?" she asked. Danny pointed the way, his eyes never leaving her as she retrieved it taking care to touch only the cloth. Before she pulled the final fold into place, she couldn't help staring into the crystal's depth and saw a hint of fire deep inside the dark surfaces that reached out, calling her... "We need to get moving." Danny's voice caused her to look up, tearing her gaze away from that seductive flame. Over his shoulder, she could see the bodies of Wymere and his thugs. Pulling the cloth over the crystal, she tucked it into her pocket. "Are they dead?" He shook his head. "Not unless I miscalculated…but they'll be coming around soon, so we'd best get moving." By the time they reached their room, Christine could feel her energy begin to desert her. She groped for a chair as soon as they entered and dropped into it with little grace. "I can't believe it's over." Danny knelt before her. "We still need to get you and the crystal back to London." He reached out to stroke her cheek. "For the moment, though, you can rest." His touch was warm and gentle and she inclined her head to press her cheek against his palm. She felt herself relax completely, certain in the knowledge he'd be here to catch her when she fell. "Danny..." "Sssh. What you need is rest. It'll all look better in the morning." He took the crystal and helped her to stand, pulling her toward the bed. When her fingers fumbled as she tried to remove her clothing, he helped her, kneeling to pull off her boots and then undo both shirt and pants. As much as the way his fingers brushed across her bare skin as he stripped her naked and helped her slide under the covers

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stirred physical memories, it also made her remember the caring and comfort, helping one another when their strength failed or the mission was done. As he pulled the comforter up and kissed her on the forehead, Christine's last thought before she drifted off was she'd missed the physical contact, but she'd missed him at her side even more. ~ "Let me explain why you're a complete idiot." Danny wished he hadn't had to call Alan. His partner was happy to learn the crystal had been seized, pleased Wymere had suffered discomfort and indifferent about the dead Jungah demon. When Danny mentioned the crystal was going back to London with Christine, his mood turned sour. "Alan, will you listen to me?" he practically shouted, trying to cut through another rant about the Society in general and Christine specifically. "Roger has a spell to destroy the thing and even you have to agree he's more competent in this area than you. Besides, Wymere saw me so I figure Los Angeles is the last place we want the crystal. I'll lead him a merry chase across the country and by the time he finds me, the crystal will be gone." "You'd better hope he doesn't catch you before you get back; it wouldn't be pretty. You were supposed to get the crystal before he got his hands on it so he wouldn't know it was us. I bet it was Christine's idea to go after Wymere." Alan ranted on, but Danny didn't bother to argue with him. It wasn't Alan's annoyance at his deviation from the plan that stood out; it was the vitriol he poured out about Christine, embodying her with all the evils he attributed to the Society. "Why did you leave?" he asked suddenly. Alan stopped in mid-rant. "What?" "Why did you leave the Society?" "You know why--the same reason you did." And the rant was off again. This time Danny said nothing, just waited until Alan petered out before saying, "I'd better go. Lots of things to do at this end before I take off." He ended the call and turned the phone off. If Alan wanted to rant some more, he could leave a message. "I take it Alan wasn't too pleased to discover I was here." Christine stood in the bathroom doorway wrapped in a robe, her hair still damp. "How

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much did you hear?" he asked. "Enough. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop." "Let's just say he wasn't thrilled with the idea of the crystal going with you." Danny shrugged. "It's Alan; we know you and he don't get along." That provoked a bit of a smile and he was glad to see she looked better than she had last night. It would take a few days to recover fully, but once she was on the plane to London... He didn't want to think about her leaving. She moved toward him, her eyes studying his face as if to impress it on her memory. "I'm glad we ran into each other. I'm glad you're here." He reached out to brush a strand of still-damp hair behind her ear. "If you need me, you know I'll be there." His hand began to trail down her cheek and he pulled away, not wanting to give her the wrong impression. To his surprise, she reached out to capture his hand in her own. "Come back with me, Danny. Come back to London and let's try to figure us out." He wanted to believe her, but they were still in the aftermath of a very long hunt and he couldn't be sure she wouldn't regret this later. "Christine..." "You said you needed to hide out for a while. What better place than London? It's almost Christmas; we'll hole up in the flat, watch lots of sappy movies, eat a ton of takeout that's bad for us and not see anyone until after New Year's." That was how they'd spent their first Christmas together and the idea was tempting, far more tempting than his apartment in Los Angeles, empty except for a few pieces of putit-together-yourself furniture. It was a lovely image, but he didn't know if he could let himself believe. "And after the holidays? What I said yesterday still stands; I have to come back sometime." "Not necessarily." Before he could protest, she continued. "We need you. You're good, you're capable and you think outside the box. You don't let yourself get all hidebound with tradition." "I seriously doubt Roger would even entertain the possibility." "Not at first, but he'll come around. You're not the only one who wants to change things, Danny. Why do you think Roger promoted me? I need you there, need you to help me make those changes."

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There was a light in her eyes as she spoke, the one he always saw when she grabbed hold of an idea and decided to make it happen. With her at his side, he could take on the world--and had, from time to time. He knew what they could do together and knew his solo efforts would never be as great as their partnership. He still couldn't let himself go. "Why didn't you tell me any of this two years ago?" "Because you wouldn't listen. Don't you think I tried? I knew you were unhappy, but when I told you about the promotion, you shut me out and went running off to see Alan who resented the fact Roger passed him over for mission lead in favor of me." Danny could argue the antipathy stretched back much further than that, but she was right in saying that Roger's choice was the moment when it had first reached extreme heights. It was when he'd told Alan about Christine's promotion that Alan had suggested the agency, hounding him with all the reasons he should leave. "So, when you suddenly say, Merry Christmas, I'm leaving London, the Society and you, what was I to think?" she continued as she took another half step towards him. He spread his hands. "Can we just say I wasn't thinking and leave it at that? I know I should have a better explanation, but that's what happened. I wish it hadn't." "Are you happy in Los Angeles?" Her tone was direct, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "No," he admitted. "The thing with Alan isn't really working out--but I don't want to come crawling back with my tail between my legs." "I don't want you to, either. That's not you…and I want you back in my life." She took a deep breath. "Maybe I'm dreaming, but we both know some things in life are worth fighting for and I know being with you is one of them. I forgot, but the past two days reminded me and I don't want to forget again." She didn't leap often, but he'd seen her do it before, ignoring logic and trusting her instincts. That's what she was doing now, asking him to leap with her. "You're willing to stand up to Roger to keep me around, and all the others who aren't going to be happy to see me?" "There are fewer than you think but the answer is yes. I don't want to do this without you, Danny, I can't do this without you. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with determination. But she also chewed at her lower lip, betraying more nervousness than she wanted to admit. Unable to keep her in

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suspense, he took her in his arms. "How soon can we leave?" This time, there was no pulling back, no hesitation, only kisses and whispered promises as they sank to the floor to twine about one another, too eager to wait for the bed. Later, they sat back against the pillows, Christine's bare back pressed against his chest as she used her laptop to book two one-way tickets to London. He nibbled on her ear as she made the seat selections, then suggested, "Let's come back next year for Christmas. It'd be a nice way to celebrate our anniversary." She giggled and wiggled her bottom against him in a delightfully suggestive manner. "Only if we can make it a tradition, and you let me finish booking these tickets. Then we need to figure out what to do with your car because if it gets towed, you know Alan will blame me for that, too." There were still a hundred details and not much time before their flight that evening, so Danny let her work. Once they were in London, there would be time to linger and let the world roll by. Besides, they'd always have Charleston.

The End

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IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER Philippa Grey-Gerou

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A peacekeeper on Solstice night was pretty much redundant. But still Arden sat at the end of the bar, his ale untouched in front of him as he kept watch over the lingering revelry. It wasn’t as though he had anywhere else to go. Arden had come home from the wars in Akhen early in the spring, changed from the young man who had left Taran three years before. The short, boyish tousle of hair he had sported was now slicked back into a long plait which didn’t need to be cut and didn’t get in his way. His aquiline nose had been broken by a mace, and his left eye was bisected brow to cheek by the faintest of scars, the only remnant of a saber strike that had sent gouts of blood fountaining through his fingers as he had desperately tried to hold his face together but had somehow spared the eye itself. In the time he’d been gone, his farm boy muscles had turned lean and hard, but more importantly, so had his soul. The young boy had left to seek his fortune. The man had returned desperate to find peace. He had only had enough money to make it as far as the hamlet of Birhold, where the sheep outnumbered the humans, and most of the residents were only vaguely aware that other realms even existed. There was little work for Arden here. He was a skilled armorer, but the people here needed their horses shod and their pots mended, not swords sharpened or arrows fletched. And they had Hin the blacksmith for that, as their parents had had Hin’s father and their grandfather his grandfather. There wasn’t enough wealth in the region to promote banditry, and the Guild didn’t see the need to have a hall any nearer than Dunstan, nearly seventy-five miles away, so there was little opportunity for him to find mercenary work that didn’t involve returning to Akhen. Arden would cut off his own hands before he went back to the wars. His one good piece of fortune had been meeting Tynan on the road, his axel broken and the wheel shattered. Desperate, Tynan had hired him to guard the wagonload of casks and spirits while he went to borrow a cart from one of his neighbors. Together they had transferred the heavy barrels and delicate bottles over, and then Tynan had offered a ride as far as Birhold. By the time they had reached the stableyard at the Green Dragon, Arden had a job. Looking around the common room, he couldn’t help but think he’d stayed too long. The job had paid little more than room and board and a few coins in his pocket, but it had given him some time to heal, both physically and emotionally. But here it was, now midwinter, and he was still here. It was . . . comfortable. The snow lay heavy beyond the door and inside the rafters and rough timbered windows and even the bar and mantles were decked with cedar and pine boughs, red scraps of fabric tying dried apples and brilliant bunches of holly in place. The fires on the hearth danced low, providing a golden glow for the couples still dancing to the lively music of the fiddler and drummer nestled in the back corner. It was as different as was imaginable from the stark, sweltering schist of the Akhen battlefields. Nights like this, a part of him feared

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that if he opened the door and stepped outside, he’d find himself back there, the angry sun pounding down on the field of white canvas tents littering the gravel encampment. As though answering his fears, the door burst open to allow a swirl of wind to blow snow in before it. The dancers protested the intrusion into their comfort, so Arden hopped down off his stool to shut it. To his surprise, a woman stood there. Or stooped, more precisely. Lost in the bluster of snow, he couldn’t make out much more about her than the tattered state of her skirts and the gnarled hand clutched around the head of her walking stick. Arden put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her into the room as he pulled the door shut behind her. “Come in where it’s warm, Gran. No sense standing in the snow.” She didn’t resist him, her steps slow but certain, the cane perhaps more of an affectation than anything. “Thank you,” she said, her tired voice barely loud enough to be heard over the renewed music. “Fawn!” Arden shouted over the revelry to catch the attention of the bar girl, dancing on her own off to the side of the guests. When she turned her glowing eyes his way, he called back, “Bring us a couple of toddies, there’s a girl.” She nodded with a smile, turning in a swirl of skirts to fetch the warm drinks from the stove. “That’s really not necessary,” the old woman protested. “Of course it is. It’s Solstice night. Can’t let it pass without a drop of cheer.” He helped her out of her heavy cloak, careful to let the snow crusted into the wool fall away from her before hanging it on a hook by the hearth. “Solstice night,” she said weakly. “Is it really? I’d lost track.” “Here,” he guided her down into a chair near the fire, “you sit here and warm your old bones. And here’s Fawn with the wine.” He smiled at the girl as she pressed the rough mug of warm cider and wine, rich with spice, into the crone’s hands. “That will warm you right through.” “Thank you my dear.” There seemed to be a little more life in the grateful look she gave Fawn. Fawn looked curious as she handed Arden his mug, but he just shrugged. She mirrored his gesture and, tucking her tray back under her arm, returned to the dancers.

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“This is very kind of you,” the old woman said before sipping at the hot drink. Her eyes closed blissfully as the warmth of it seeped into her. “You can’t tell me you’ve been traveling in this?” Arden sat down across from her, leaning forward so she wouldn’t have to strain to be heard. “It’s been dark for hours, and the snow hasn’t let up since noon.” “Poor weather can’t stop me, my dear.” “Where could you have been going that was so important?” She looked at him innocently over the lip of her mug. “Wherever I end up is important.” Her cryptic words jolted him, making him really see her for the first time. She was diminutive, the slight stoop of her shoulders not withstanding, with steel grey hair she wore uncharacteristically long about her shoulders. Her pale grey eyes were sunken in over cheeks that must have been high in her youth, her lips narrow but opening to reveal straight white teeth behind. Even her gown was grey, an uneven shade that spoke more of wear and time than choice. At places where the stitching was evident, he thought he saw traces of the original burgundy. “What’s your name?” he asked finally, taking a sip from his own mug. “I can’t be calling you Gran all night.” She was scrutinizing him almost as closely, making him vaguely uncomfortable. “Mora,” she replied at last, cocking her head slightly. “You may call me Mora.” “Well, Mora, I’m Arden.” He reached out and shook her hand warmly and was surprised by the strength still left in her fine bones. “Do you have a place to stay for the night? If you’re here to find family, I’ll be glad to help you get to them tonight.” “No, no family.” She seemed amused at the thought. “As I said, I’m just traveling.” “Well, your travels are done for the day,” he insisted. “Tynan will find a place to put you up tonight and then in the morning you can see if the weather’s cleared any.” “That really isn’t necessary. All I need is a warm place by the fire.” “Don’t let Tynan hear you say that, tonight of all nights.” Arden chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “He takes the rules of hospitality very seriously. Tonight everyone eats and drinks as much as they can hold, and there are beds for any who need them. He won’t jinx the new year by having anyone go without.” “That’s very generous of him.” Her eyes drifted over the dancers, stopping by chance on Tynan himself, but she didn’t say anything further. They sat there quietly, each lost in their own thoughts as they listened to the music and laughter. The dancers had gone through two sets before Mora leaned forward slightly

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to be heard. “Why aren’t you out there dancing? Surely there are better companions for you than a tired old woman. Young Fawn, maybe? She seems eager enough for a partner.” Arden’s eyes flicked to the girl automatically, watching her bob along in time to the music, her best gown fitting close around tender young breasts and full hips. In another lifetime . . . He looked away. “I’m not the man for her. I’ve seen too much of the world and she too little of it. Better she find a local boy.” “You talk like an old man.” “I feel like an old man.” Mora chuckled. “You aren’t old, child. I know from old.” “There are things in this world that can age a man beyond his years, Mora.” He fought down the anger in his voice. To his surprise, her expression turned compassionate. “Things like what gave you that scar.” “Yes, things like that.” He looked down into the russet liquid swirling in his cup. “Among others.” “I see,” was all she said, turning her eyes back to the dance. Not long after, couples began to bow out of the dance, bundling up for the trek home or making their way up the stairs to the inn’s guestrooms. Arden turned to Mora, starting to rise from his seat. “I’ll talk to Tynan about a room for you.” “Stay a moment.” She put a thin hand on his forearm, and he was surprised to feel a vague frission tremble up his arm. “I have a proposal I’d like for you to consider first.” Surprised, he returned to his seat. Her silver eyes never wavered from his as she spoke. “As you can see, I am an old woman. There aren’t many days left for me. If tonight is to be my last night on this earth, I don’t want to spend it alone.” “I’m not sure I understand . . .” Unflinching, she said, “I would like to spend the night in your bed, Arden.” Her words were so bold and unexpected that he pulled back from her in surprise.

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She laughed at his response. “What’s the matter, child? Don’t you think the old and frail have the same sort of needs as the young? It’s been too long since I’ve felt the touch of a man, and I don’t want to leave this world wanting.” “Mora, I don’t . . .” His mind was reeling from her suggestion, but to his shame, his body was responding as well. She rested her bony, graceful hand intimately on his leg. “I promise, you won’t be left wanting. I will make it very rewarding to you.” Her tone remained determined, but Arden thought he heard in her words a hint of desperation that touched him. He knew what it was to be desperate for physical contact with another person, however it could be found, and wouldn’t wish that kind of emptiness on anyone. He covered her delicate hand with his own. “You needn’t owe me anything. It will be my pleasure.” Her girlish smile was almost as brilliant as Fawn’s. Tynan joined them, leaning on the back of Arden’s chair. “Are you going to introduce me to this ravishing creature you’ve been hoarding away?” he demanded playfully with drunken enthusiasm, jabbing at Arden’s shoulder. Arden snatched his hand off Mora’s, making her smirk. She lifted the hand that had been resting on his knee and offered it to Tynan. “You must be Tynan. Arden has told me much about you.” “Lies, all lies,” he pronounced jovially, taking her hand to bend over it in courtly fashion. “Ty, this is Mora.” Arden was surprised to feel a quirk of something dark within him in response to Tynan’s flirtations. “She’s traveling through and found her way to our door.” “Excellent!” Tynan clapped his hand over hers. “Let me get a room arranged for you. . .” Arden interrupted. “Don’t worry about it, Ty. I’ll get her settled. You’re a bit the worse for drink yourself. You go on up to bed, I’ll lock up.” “You’re probably right,” Tynan admitted, swaying slightly on his feet. “I did get very festive.” “So it would seem.” Mora’s eyes danced in amusement, the crow’s feet framing them creasing even deeper. “Go to bed, Tynan.” Arden reinforced the command with a gentle shove in the direction of the stair.

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“Good man, Arden. Thanks.” He began stumbling towards the steps, sleep and exhaustion finally catching up with him. “Blessed Solstice, you two.” The musicians were packed and gone, the last few stragglers finding their way at last out of the common room. While Fawn wiped down the tables, Arden made his way around to bank the fires and close and latch the shutters against the storm which was only increasing in intensity, making the glass rattle in the frames. Fawn finished stowing the last of the mugs and glasses away to be washed in the morning and, with a last flourish of her rag on the bar, turned to go up to her garret room. “Good night, Arden,” she called, obviously puzzled by Mora’s continued presence. “Night, Fawn.” He ignored her curiosity, bolting and barring the front door. “Blessed Solstice.” “You, too.” Not looking, he heard her light tread on the stairs. The enormity of what Mora proposed weighed down on him. He had been taught to revere his elders, not lust after them. A young woman he knew how to arouse, how to entice and please. But Mora was so delicate, breaking her bones could be a real possibility if he became too forceful. More and more he began to see this was madness. “Arden.” He startled when she set a hand on his arm, her understanding expression tinged with humor. “It’s alright. You won’t break me. I am stronger than I appear.” “I’m sure you are.” He placed a hand over hers to stoke it in gentle comfort. “Mora, is this really what you want? If it’s pleasure you seek, there are ways . . .” “I’m certain,” she assured him. And with surprising strength, she curled her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down into a gentle kiss. Her lips were thin and papery with age, but she tasted vaguely of apples and blackberries, and for a brief instant as she opened her mouth beneath his, he could have sworn he smelled sunlight. Not the harsh, cruel sun of Akhen, but the verdant warmth of a meadow rich with life and promise. Pulling back in surprise, he looked down at her. She seemed unchanged save for a blush of rose on the apples of her cheeks. “Shall we go up?” she asked boldly, slipping her hand through his arm. “I have to lock up the back.” Aware of her slow pace, he patiently guided her behind the bar and into the kitchen. The fire here was already banked, the cook having seen to it earlier when he finished for the night. Arden closed the shutters and dropped the bar across the door before turning back to her.

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Mora stood with one hand resting on the worktable, her features dimly illuminated in the light of the single lamp left burning there. She watched him as he moved about his tasks, a secret smile playing about her lips. The taste of her mouth still lingered on his tongue, and suddenly he needed to sample her again. Her eyes never wavered as he slowly approached her, as though not wanting to startle a wild animal. When his hand slipped under the coarse weight of her hair, her eyes closed, her chin lifting in anticipation of his kiss. It shouldn’t have felt this good. Mora was someone’s grandmother, but Arden quickly forgot that as the sweet, soft welcome of her mouth flooded his senses, long starved through denial and neglect. Resting a hand on her lower back, he gently drew her closer until her thin body was pressed against him. Her delicate hands resting on his shoulders, she surrendered to his exploration, apparently willing to let him guide their activities. That was enough to remind him of his responsibilities. This couldn’t be comfortable for her, standing on tired, arthritic legs and straining up to receive his kisses. With a subtle shift of his hold, he swung her up into his arms, enjoying her startled gasp. Her face now in easy reach, he took the opportunity to kiss her again, letting his tongue tease lightly at her lips before pulling back. “Grab the lamp.” She turned to do as he asked, the extension of her arm pressing the swell of her breast into his shoulder. “Are you certain you wouldn’t rather do this in the dark? You might find it easier.” When she turned her head away, it exposed the weathered column of her neck. “No,” Arden assured her, gently kissing the newly exposed flesh. “I’ve seen horrors you can’t imagine. The sight of you naked can only be beautiful in my eyes.” “Poor boy.” Lamp in hand, she turned to tease her lips along his ear, making him tremble. “Such a life you’ve had.” Her weight was nothing in his arms as he mounted the stairs, carrying her into the small garret room that was his. There was little here but the bed and a small chest which held his clothes. There wasn’t even a fireplace, the room warmed by the radiant heat from the kitchen’s chimney. It had been enough for him, but now it hardly seemed the place to bring a lady. She sighed in soft contentment. “What a perfect little room.” He lowered her to her feet, taking the lamp and setting it on the chest. “It’s not much.” “It is what it needs to be.” Her words were firm and sure. “A haven.”

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Her wisdom, her understanding, affected him more than he would have expected. More and more he wanted to do this for her, to show her what her words meant to him. Stepping closer, he bent low to put his mouth against her ear. “We’ll do this very slowly, yeah?” he assured her. “Any time you want to stop, you say the word. I am entirely at your command.” Turning her head, she caught his mouth, her eager kiss all the confirmation he needed. Arden responded, his mouth light but fervent as he encouraged her passion. He felt her body quaver, and realized she didn’t have the stamina to endure a long foreplay on her feet. Leaning his lower body away, he caught the hem of his tunic and pulled it off over his head, breaking away from her for just a brief moment before returning to press soft kisses over her cheek and jaw, oddly enjoying the feel of her slack skin against his lips as he circled around behind her. Gathering her long, ashen hair in one hand, he drew it aside to reveal her back and neck to his touch as he toed off his boots, kicking them absently under the bed as his hands began working the knots holding her dress closed. As they came loose, he pushed the sleeves down, revealing the gentle sag of what had once been strong arms. The whole gown fell to the floor as he released it, leaving her bare to his touch. The texture of her back was like clay formed too wet, carefully shaped but sagging under its own weight, giving easily against the gentle pressure of his hands. He let them slip around her to cup the heavy weight of her breasts, drawing her close so his torso rested against the cool skin of her back. With a sigh that rattled in her tired throat, Mora laid her head back against him as he gently massaged her breasts, careful not to bruise the delicate flesh. Bending his head, Arden brushed his lips against her throat. “Are you ready for bed?” he asked slowly, wanting her to feel free to say no. She reclined against him, letting her back crush gently against his solid cock. “Are you?” With a deft twist, he swung her into his arms, pivoting easily before just as carefully lowering her onto the far side of the bed. The thought of his rough bedding on her delicate skin made him wince, but there was no help for it. Arden straightened, watching Mora even as he began undoing the hasp of his own belt to shuck off his breeches. Her breasts hung low and heavy, the peaked nipples the shade of dark, sun-ripe cherries. Between her thighs, the pale mat of curls was thin, showing much of the skin beneath. Her stomach paunched slightly and her thighs lay heavy along her haunches. But still to his wonder he found her lovely, her body singing out of life lived, life given, life complete. No death by slow inches for her. Not like him.

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Her own eyes were occupied studying his body as he finished undressing, her mouth slightly open as her tongue flickered out in delight, obviously pleased by the evidence of his arousal. Without saying a word, she held out one hand to beckon him to join her. Taking it, Arden lowered himself down onto the coverlet, nestling his body close along her side while bending his head down to kiss her gently. Her arm came up around his neck with a happy sigh. He let the barest tips of his fingers coast down her neck to trace the outline of her collarbones before continuing on down the slope of her breast. Her eyes fluttered closed as she drew in a hoarse breath, her slight body rising to his touch and encouraging his explorations. He settled himself more comfortably, propping his head up on his elbow so he could watch the expressions flickering over her lined face as he teased the sensitive side of her breast and down over her stomach before coming back up on the other side. No young woman he had ever been with had ever been as grateful, as totally lost in his touch the way Mora was. Perhaps it was deprivation, but he thought it had more to do with age, with relishing each touch as it happened rather than worrying about what came next. The what came next led to his hand drifting down over the folds of her slender stomach to tease at the tops of her thighs. She gasped aloud, her eyes closing as her knees opened oh so slightly. It was all the invitation he needed. He nudged her thighs apart, the tips of his fingers fluttering against the swollen flesh of her labia. Mora’s soft whimper went straight to his cock, but he ignored it as he slowly began mapping the contours of her quim. “You see if this is enough, if this is what you need,” he insisted quietly. Arden was transfixed by the sight of her as he fingered her, the lamplight adding color to her skin as her thin body slowly writhed against him. The tips of his fingers probed her delicately, making her cry out until at last he slipped one battle roughened digit into her. Crying out, she gripped his wrist fiercely to hold him in place as she bucked weakly against his intrusion, taking him deeper and deeper until the firm dome of her womb pressed against his fingertip. Placing a gentle kiss against her jawbone, he flexed the muscle in his arm, forcing him back out of her before slowly sliding in again. Her moan of pleasure was heady. He had expected her to be dry and rough. Instead, her channel was pillowy soft, moisture seeping around his finger to ease his slow, deliberate strokes. He took his time, moving in slow, almost lazy thrusts, easing a second finger into her as he rained tender kisses over her face and down onto her breasts. There was something almost worshipful in the act for him, touching a faith he thought long dead inside. “Arden!” She cried out, passion making her voice stronger as he pressed his thumb into the tender bundle of nerves. Her hips began rising off the bed, pleading for more friction. “Please, Arden,” she begged, opening her eyes to let him see the desperation

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in their depths. “It’s not enough.” Long, cool fingers reached up to curl around his cock, trying to pull him closer. “I need you inside me, Arden, please!” He couldn’t deny her. Rolling over, he eased his hips between her thighs, careful to support all his weight on his arms. “Are you ready?” he asked, already pressing his cock against her for entrance. “Please!” she whispered in anticipation. “I’ll go slow.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, her cheeks, before finding his way to her mouth. “Tell me if it hurts.” The whimper Mora gave as he pressed through her initial constriction had nothing to do with pain. Carefully he inched his way into her, her channel narrow but not constrictive as she sheathed him. The gentle comfort she gave wrapped around him, bringing him near to tears. For the first time in years, he felt an emotional connection to the woman he was making love to, and it transformed the experience in ways he hadn’t imagined possible. Her fine hands gripped his shoulders, encouraging him as he began moving. “Oh yes,” she groaned aloud, “how I have missed this.” “Feels good?” he panted, moving faster, the friction building. “Yes, my darling boy, it feels wonderful.” She lifted one hand up to his head, drawing him down to cradle him against her shoulder, rocking with his motions. She was almost silent, so that it was his own soft grunts of pleasure echoing in his ears as he plunged into her again and again. She surprised him by lifting one leg up to curl around the backs of his thighs, raising her hips to meet each stroke. He looked up at her, wondering where she had found the flexibility, and was startled to see that her appearance had changed. Her hair seemed darker, her lips fuller and flushed, color suffusing skin that seemed tighter somehow. Her hand on his neck pulled him down again, this time to meet her open mouth in a kiss that held more passion than he expected, her soft tongue probing and teasing. His own came out to meet it eagerly, circling and dancing as his hips moved ever faster. With a soft cry, she ripped her mouth away, eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling above as her body thrashed beneath him, harsh, staccato keens working his own need harder as he held her close, still careful of crushing her. “There’s my girl,” Arden coaxed in whispers as her climax began to recede. “That’s it, that’s my girl, beautiful, beautiful Mora . . .” “Don’t stop,” she whimpered, regaining her rhythm with his movements.

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“Can’t stop. Don’t want to stop. Oh god, Mora!” With a roar, he buried himself deep in her, locked in place as his body released in wave after wave of ecstasy. When he came back to his senses, Arden was surprised to find himself lying on his back, Mora rolled on her side to lean on his chest. “I believe I told you not to stop,” she chided him in a teasing tone. “I’m only human, woman,” he groused, equally light hearted. “Give me a chance to recover and I’ll see to you again.” “Poor boy.” It was her turn to lower her head, coasting her lips over the sweat-slicked skin of his collarbone. “Did the old woman wear you out?” He rested his hand on her hair, closing his eyes to savor the luxuriant pleasure of her tongue. “I would think you would be tired, too.” “I seem to have gotten my second wind,” she purred, slowly continuing down his body, pausing to suckle at his nipples before moving down over his stomach. “What are you doing?” he tipped his head to look down at her. She didn’t look up. “Seeing if I can hurry things along a bit.” “Mora . . .” He groaned as the weight of her breast brushed over his cock. “Shh, Arden,” she insisted with an air of authority. “Let me take care of you now.” All thoughts of protest vanished as her lips caressed him, her tongue flicking out in kitten-soft strokes, encouraging the flow of blood back into his member. Part of him felt guilty for letting her do this, but it felt too good to make her stop. Instead he rested his hand on her head, petting her gently as she worked, slowly coaxing him back to life. He leaned over to watch her work, and was startled to see the soft waves beneath his hand were glossy and dark, the only gray remaining faint wisps running through it. Curious, but somehow not afraid, he drew the hair aside to study her face. It too had changed, more than could be explained by the influence of passion. The bags and pouches of her face had smoothed out, leaving the crow’s feet around her eyes and creases around her mouth. The skin itself had more color, the gray gone sallow, her cheeks rosy and flushed. Mora looked up at him, and even her eyes, still so pale in the lamplight, had a glitter of life to them that had been absent when she walked into the tavern that night. She watched him as her tongue licked out, her hand working his lengthening shaft, as though waiting to see what he would do. “What is this?” he forced out, the stimulation of her tongue and mouth and observation overwhelming him.

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Her hand never slowing as she worked him, she rose up on her elbows to look him full in the face, the changes now even more evident. “It’s magic, Arden. Of the very best kind. Do you trust me?” The soldier in him knew he shouldn’t. Anything that couldn’t be explained was dangerous. But that part of him seemed to be fading, washed away by the beauty being created by their passion. If she were dangerous, he’d be dead a dozen times over. But for the first time in longer than he could say, he felt truly alive. “I trust you, Mora.” Her brilliant, knowing smile was his reward. When she opened her mouth and took him in, he didn’t hold back his roar of pleasure, fisting her hair as she began stroking up and down his shaft, her tongue firm and strong as it pressed against him, her teeth sharp but careful at once. He fought to keep from thrusting up into her, his whole body vibrating as he warred with his instincts. When her free hand came up to support his sac, massaging his balls with gentle care, he felt his will losing. “Mora, it’s coming, oh god . . .” When she pulled away, he cried out at the loss. But before Arden could struggle, Mora straddled his hips, guiding his aching cock into her center. He could see the changes in her even more clearly now. Breasts that had hung pendulously now rose full and round high on her chest, swaying faintly as she moved over him. Her waist came in, hourglass narrow, her stomach smooth and faintly rounded, the thatch of hair between her thighs now thick and dark. “God, Mora,” he breathed. “If you’re going to kill me, please let it be like this.” “Silly boy. I’m not going to kill you.” Leaning down, she pressed an incongruously chaste kiss on his lips before whispering, “I’m going to love you.” Arden sobbed aloud, at her words and at the amazing feeling of her quim clinging to him as she lowered herself down on his shaft, her thighs strong as they flexed against him. It was different this time, clenching and vibrant as she quickly built up to a fervent pace that made her breasts swing above him. He reached up to cup them, relishing the feel of firm, supple flesh and the hardness of contracting nipples against his palm. “Oh, yes!” Mora encouraged, an ecstatic smile lighting her face. She leaned down and let them bat at his face as she moved until he turned his head to catch one taut nipple in his mouth. The look she gave him as he nursed at it was almost loving, her soft demand of “Harder!” equal parts prayer and command. He sucked harder and she rode him harder, perspiration glowing on both their skin. Releasing her breast momentarily, he lapped up one thin trickle of sweat that worked its way down between before turning his head to capture her other breast in hungry pleasure. “Oh, Arden,” she moaned, her strokes becoming shorter and ever faster, “I’m so glad I found you tonight of all nights.”

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He caught her hair to pull her down to him. “I’m glad you found me at all.” And he kissed her, not with lust or hunger, but with a passionate love he hadn’t thought he would ever feel again. Her mouth curved against his and softened, returning the kiss in kind to consume the last tattered remnants of his soul. Her response broke him, and with a hoarse, joyous cry he exploded, pumping up into her in spasms of ecstasy. Mora’s own head snapped back, her mouth open in wonder, as her body trembled and then arched over him, her quim gripping at his cock in fierce relief, drenching him to make his last few strokes as slick and easy as his first. Sucking in deep gulps of air, he seized one last time before falling limp beneath her, his body and soul sated in a way he had never experienced. A moment later Mora collapsed on top of him with a soft, happy sigh to nestle her small body against him in contentment. Arden enfolded her in his arms, reluctant to ever let her go. Seeming to sense this, she kissed his chest gently before touching his lips with hers. “Go to sleep, Arden. I will still be here in the morning.” Unable to resist her command, his eyes drifted shut, his arms still holding the warm comfort of her body close. ~ He woke to the sound of the rooster crowing in the stable yard below his window. Trying to shut it out, he nestled closer to the warm body sharing his bed. The memory of last night lingered, and he opened his eyes to confirm he hadn’t dreamed it. The girl in his arms barely seemed of age, coal black hair curling in cascades around her pale pink face, sooty lashes lying on rosy cheeks. Her full mouth was a soft coral bow, just begging him to kiss her. He wanted to make love to her again, but he didn’t want to disturb her slumber. Instead, he watched as the sunlight crept across the floor to where they lay entwined. When the sunlight touched the bare tips of her toes, she groaned softly. “But, Father, I like it here!” Arden watched in wonder as the skin the sun touched began glowing with a soft radiance. “Oh, fine,” she agreed to the unheard voice in sultry disgust. Rolling out of Arden’s arms, she stood, stretching her supple young body in interesting ways. To his amazement, everywhere the sunlight touched on her body began glowing until she was surrounded by a soft nimbus of light. He sat up, the blanket that had covered them still over his lap. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice desperate and reverent at once. “My darling boy,” she said in amusement, reaching out to touch his face. “I am who I ever was.”

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“You’re a goddess, aren’t you?” Stroking her thumb over his lips, she nodded. “I am Temora, daughter of the sun lord Lonwar and goddess of the seasons. The old woman you saw last night is the form I take as the year wheels around and the youth of spring becomes the crone of midwinter, only to be renewed with the rise of the Solstice sun.” “So, last night . . .” He swallowed the anger and betrayal he felt. “I was just a dalliance for you? Someone to while away the longest night with?” “Oh, no! You mustn’t think that!” Crossing the floor in quick steps, she straddled his thighs to sit on his lap, combing her fingers through his long hair as she floated gentle kisses over his face. “You gave me a beautiful gift last night, Arden. You saw beauty in me even at my darkest, and you weren’t afraid to reach out and touch me, to love me no matter what I looked like. And you do love me, don’t you, Arden?” He wanted to stay angry, to feel ill used, but all he could remember was the joy being with her in all her forms had brought him. Curling his arms around her, he drew her closer. “Yes, Temora, I do love you. How could I not? You’ve brought me back to life.” With a contented sigh, she lowered her mouth to his again, letting the perfect bow of a mouth caress his lips in slow sensuality. When she lifted her head, she smiled at him with a trace of the wisdom he had seen in old Mora’s eyes last night. “Appropriate for Solstice, don’t you think?” She kissed him again, gentle and quick, before rising up off his lap. “I have to go. My father is waiting for me.” With a pass of her hand, the air around her was filled with silks the color of flower petals that settled onto her naked body to dress her. Her feet remained bare and her hair loose, but when she held out her hand, the gnarled walking stick appeared in it, nubs of pale green shoots forming here and there over the ancient wood. “Will I see you again?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking. She looked at him curiously. “I don’t know. Will you?” And with one last wise, impish grin, she vanished, the fluttering sound of dry leaves and the smell of apple blossoms lingering in her wake. Arden sat there for a long time after, until the sounds of Cook in the kitchen and Hin out in the stableyard told him the day was well underway. At last he rose, picking up his pants from where they had fallen the night before. As he stepped into them, he noted that her clothes were absent. Gone with the magic that had taken her, most likely. He pulled on his tunic and opened his chest to begin stuffing all his possessions into his saddlepacks. He had stayed in Birhold long enough. It was time to move on, to a place that had a temple to Temora. If they wouldn’t take him as a novitiate, then he would serve as a temple guard or any other task they would give him, no matter how menial.

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The only thing he knew for certain was that he would see her again.

The End

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IT’S NOT THE FALL THAT KILLS YOU Pepper Espinoza

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Zoë hooked her backpack over her shoulder, looped the grocery bags over her arms, pulled her scarf tight around her throat, and bravely stepped out of the garage and into the swirling blizzard. She stiffened her legs and took each step carefully, balancing on the icy cement, and ducked her head. She couldn’t keep her face up against the cruel wind. Zoë focused on each step over the slick ice and packed snow until she reached the steep staircase that cut into the side of the mountain, and led to the front door of her condominium. Zoë looked up at the stairs with a grimace and a heavy sigh. She remembered when the realtor had first showed her the beautiful condo, tucked away behind tall trees in the hills above Park City. The leaves had been red and orange, the air fresh and crisp but warm, and the stairs hadn’t seemed like a bad idea. In fact, she remembered being excited at the prospect of fitting in some extra exercise. And there were just a dozen of them, right? The reality of the situation did not present itself until four weeks later when the first of many blizzards overtook the ski resort, the velocity and ferocity of the storm frightening her. Now the snow didn’t scare her, but the horrible flight of stairs sure did. Who’d decided this was a good idea? Who’d planned this? Probably somebody who had never been to Utah. She gripped the slippery rails on either side of the stairs with her gloved hands and took her first step. She thought she’d be able to make it despite the bag on her shoulders upsetting her balance. The only light, weak and obscured by the storm, came from her front porch. Zoë had meant to buy a floodlight on a timer, with a motion sensor, but she always forgot. I’m going to break my neck one of these days, all for want of a fucking light. Why did I decide to move here again? Zoë paused to catch her breath. Why, indeed? What the fuck was I thinking? She asked herself that at least twice a day, but she still couldn’t find a satisfactory answer. It had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time--a beautiful condo, an interesting job, a gorgeous city, and oh yeah, over five hundred miles away from Mitch and his gang of toadies. What wasn’t to love? Nobody bothered to warn her that a southern California native might have a difficult time adjusting to the never-ending snow and temperatures low enough to freeze her tits off. Zoë took a deep breath and another step, but she hit the edge of a patch of ice and couldn’t recover from the mistake. Her arms flailing in the air, she tried to regain her balance, but the bags on her arms and shoulders were too much to overcome. Zoë felt herself flying back and tried to tuck her chin against her chest to protect the back of her head. She landed in a deep bank of snow, a mere inch from the sharp edge

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of the bottom step. The fall knocked the breath from her lungs, and she desperately gasped for air. Oh Jesus, oh God, did I break something? Like my fucking neck? She wiggled each toe in turn, and then each finger. Gradually, she realized that the only thing damaged from the fall was her ego. Physically, she seemed to be in fine working order. Groaning, she turned over to her side and tried to push herself into a sitting position, but even that simple task seemed to be too much for her. Exhausted, she lay back against the deepening snow and stared up at the dark vortex of the sky. “Now what?” she muttered. Her fingers and toes started to go numb, and she hoped it was due to the cold, not a delayed case of paralysis. She wiggled them again, but that didn’t cheer her. “Hey! Do you need help?” Zoë lifted her head and tried to find the source of the faint voice. The wind picked up and carried her answer away. She squinted, but she couldn’t see anything through the churning snow. “Hey!” she shouted, forcing her voice over the wind. Brad appeared from behind of curtain of snow and darkness, his handsome face twisted with concern, his hand extended. “I thought I saw somebody fall out here,” he said. Zoë took his hand gratefully and he pulled her to her feet. “Are you OK?” Zoë nodded and brushed the large clumps of wet snow from coat and legs. “I slipped on the stairs.” Brad nodded. “They’re a bitch. Here, let me take that for you,” he offered, tugging on her grocery bags. “That’s not necessary…” But he already had them and was pulling the book bag from her shoulder as well. He nodded towards the stairs. “You go first!” Zoë gripped the railings again and began her second trek up the steep flight. She could feel Brad right behind her, his chest nearly against her back, as they both climbed the stairs. She felt better with him there, though she knew that if she slipped again, they’d both go tumbling down the mountain. And she might not be so lucky the second time. When they reached the top, Brad grabbed her elbow and directed her away from the uphill path to her front door, and towards his much closer condominium. She followed without protest; much too tired to care where she went, as long as she got out of the blizzard.

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Brad pushed his door open, and she thought she heard angels singing as light, warmth, and the fresh smell of coffee poured out of the door and pulled her forward. Brad slammed the door behind her and set her bags down. “If you want to get out of those wet clothes, I might have something for you,” he offered. “And there’s fresh coffee in the kitchen.” Zoë unwrapped her scarf and pulled the soaked coat from her shivering frame. “Thank you,” she said around chattering teeth. “You didn’t have to go out there and risk your neck.” “Well, I just happened to be looking out the window when you fell. When I didn’t see you get up and try again…” Brad shrugged. “I’ve been in much worse than this, anyway.” Zoë looked around the large living room at the dozens of racing trophies and photos of Brad, triumphant in his ski gear, smiling through oversized goggles. “I can imagine.” “Are you hurt? That was a pretty serious fall you took,” he said, taking the coat from her and hanging it on a hook besides the door. “Go ahead and get those boots off as well.” She shook her head. “No, no, I think I’m ok. The snow broke my fall.” “Got damn lucky there. You could have broken your neck.” He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her over to the merrily crackling fire. “Get warm, I’ll get some coffee.” Zoë smiled, bemused by his attention. A few years younger than herself, she knew him to be a sweet, good-natured guy, always willing to lend a hand when it came to shoveling the stairs or changing a light bulb just out of reach. She’d never forget the first time she met him, when he knocked on her door with a pie in each hand and a white paper bag hanging from his teeth. He had nodded and smiled at her around the bag, and she knew that whatever else she had lost or found in Utah, she had made a friend. Still, his consideration and kindness always took her a bit by surprise. She expected him to make his own demands and requests, but for him, helping really did seem to be its own reward. If she ever wanted to date again, he would be a good candidate. But that would be a major if. “Do you like sugar?” Brad asked from the kitchen. “No, and I like it black.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Me, too.”

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Zoë wrapped her arms around herself and shivered again. The dancing fire heated her feet, and she had feeling in her face, but she still wasn’t warm. She needed a nice, hot shower, her oversized down quilt, and her fluffy pink slippers. “You look really pale,” Brad observed, handing her a mug. “Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” Zoë nodded. “I promise, I’m fine.” “Let me go find something for you to wear.” “You don’t have to worry about that,” Zoë protested to his back as he left the living room for the bedroom. She sipped her coffee and wrinkled her nose at the faint taste of whiskey. Fire seeped down her chest, gradually warming her skin and blood from the inside, and she took another swallow of the scalding liquid, relaxing against the back of the chair. Her eyelids felt heavy and she yawned widely. “I think this’ll do,” he announced as he returned with a large, thick sweatshirt. “For now, anyway.” “I was thinking I might stop taking advantage of your good nature and go home,” Zoë said, standing up. Brad gave her an odd, questioning look. “Why? I’ve got plenty of room here, and you’re not taking advantage of anything.” “My house is just up the hill.” “About two hundred yards up the hill. I know that’s nothing when it’s sunny, but it can be quite the pain in the ass in a blizzard of this magnitude.” Zoë frowned. He had a point. Two hundred yards seemed like an impossible distance. “Maybe I can stay for an hour or so.” “Or until the end of the storm.” “The blizzard could last all night.” “Lift your arms,” he instructed, taking the cup from her hand. “Lift my arms?” He nodded and held up the sweatshirt. “I’ll help you.”

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“I don’t need help.” He looked at her with amused patience until she sighed, exasperated. She held her arms up like a child, allowing him to take the hem of the sweater--uncomfortably wet against her skin--and pull it up over her head and shoulders. Cold, Zoë wrapped her arms around herself. Brad took her hand, gently prying her arms apart. She tried to read his eyes, but he was studying her body with an intent look. He released her wrist and ran his fingers up her arm, resting on her shoulder. “Your skin is like ice,” he muttered. Zoë nodded as the firewood snapped behind them. His warm fingers shocked her skin, making it difficult to concentrate. They were both rough and gentle, and she tilted her head, giving him access to her neck. He took a step forward as her sweatshirt fell from his fingers. He put his hands on her shoulders, pausing for a moment before running his palms down her arms to her wrists. She watched him, holding her breath and trying to think of a reason to stop him. His slow actions entranced her, hypnotized her as he continued to move his hands up and down, up and down. Brad looked up and the fire behind her was reflected in his chocolate brown eyes. They seemed to burn and dance, and she could almost feel herself falling into their scorching depths. With trembling, cold fingers, she touched his cheek, curling her fingertips against his skin. His head tilted forward, and she could feel the heat from his lips before he even touched hers. Closing her eyes as she parted her mouth, she welcomed his questioning lips, his hesitant tongue. His hot mouth sizzled against her cold lips, and she kissed him back without hesitation, absorbing his warmth and passion through her skin, until it radiated from her. “I’ve wanted to do that since we first met,” he muttered as he lifted his head. Zoë stared at him, dazed, unsure of what to say. The wind picked up, roaring around the cabin, matching the blood roaring in her head. Had she been waiting for him to kiss her? Her silence stretched between them until he stepped away from her, ducking his head. “Here,” he said, bending over to grab the sweatshirt. “You better put this on.” Her skin still tingled everywhere he had touched her. She didn’t feel cold any longer. In fact, her face and arms were flushed with heat. Even so, she took the sweatshirt from him. “Can I use your bathroom?”

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“Of course. Right down the hall, first door on the left.” “Thanks.” Zoë made a quick escape, locking herself in the bathroom. He had a large, oldfashioned claw-foot tub, and a pedestal sink. That fascinated her, though she couldn’t explain why. Had he decorated the bathroom himself? Had he really just kiss her? Zoë touched her lips. They felt different. Softer, somehow. Fuller. She checked herself in the mirror, expecting to see a woman with full lips, lusty eyes, and hectic skin, but she looked normal. There were no outward clues of the confusion and heat that his mouth had generated. She ran her hands down her body, surprised that her arms and chest still felt cool to the touch. Her nipples hardened as she skimmed her breasts. Zoë shivered, imagining Brad’s lips following the path of her fingers. Across her cheek, down her neck, lingering on the hollow of her throat, and then to her breasts, lavishing her nipples with attention-sucking, licking, biting. Zoë moaned at the thought, her lower stomach constricting, the flesh between her thighs becoming slick and full. How long had she wanted him? Since the first second she saw him? How long did she plan to live in denial? Zoë knew she would have ignored the strong desire indefinitely if he hadn’t forced the issue. But now, things were different. Now he had kissed her, and God help her, she wanted more. So what if he was several years her junior? So what if she had more baggage than Customs at LAX? Nobody had ever kissed her like that before. Why run away at all? Brad tapped on the door. “You ok in there?” Zoë swallowed hard. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” “Look, I’m sorry…well, I’m sorry about what just happened.” Zoë frowned, confused by his apology. She wasn’t sorry it happened at all. A bit shaken up, maybe even shocked, but not sorry. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I hope you will consider staying, though. It’s safer. I’ll leave you alone, I promise.” Zoë bit her tongue to keep from laughing. He sounded so sincere, so worried. “Brad,” she said, opening the door, “You don’t have to leave me alone.”

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He stepped back, looking away from her shyly. She noticed a soft blush on his cheeks and neck. “I’ve just never known anybody like you.” “Like me? What do you mean?” Brad rubbed the back of his neck, his skin darkening. Over his shoulder, she could see his dimly lit bedroom. The king-sized bed looked very welcoming. How many girls had been seduced into that bed? How many girls did he charm with his shy smile and intoxicating lips? Zoë wasn’t jealous, but she was very curious. “I mean…beautiful. Funny. Smart. Classy. I don’t meet a lot of classy girls…women… you know?” He smiled again, making her heart melt a little. “But I figure you’re way out of my league.” “I don’t think I’m out of your league,” Zoë said softly. “Not at all.” Brad’s eyes darted to her face, but he quickly looked away again. This wasn’t the same bold man who had kissed her. How could she get him back? She didn’t want him to be so nervous with her. Smart? Classy? His compliments flattered her, but she was mostly amused. “Do you think the storm is worse?” Zoë asked. Brad cocked his head, listening to the wind rage around them. “Sounds like it.” “Do you think I could spend the night here?” she asked, stepping forward. He nodded. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Zoë closed the space between them until just inches separated them. “I’m glad to hear that,” she breathed. Brad’s chest hitched. “I can sleep on the couch. You take the bed.” Zoë took a deep breath. She knew she was about to plunge off a cliff. There would be no turning back. Did she want to let him sleep on the couch? Could she stand to be surrounded by the smell of his aftershave and sweat, alone in his huge bed? She knew what she wanted. “I think it’s too cold to sleep alone.” Brad blinked, his eyes dancing. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her flush against his body, and kissed her again. There was nothing shy or hesitant about this kiss. He buried his free hand in her hair, his fingers clutching her scalp, forcing her mouth against his.

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Brad didn’t hesitate again. He backed her against the wall, his mouth devouring hers. His lips were demanding, and she liked the way he tasted of whiskey and salt and chocolate. She liked the way his hands felt when he gripped the side of her head, his fingers buried in her hair. She liked how hot his body felt in the chilly night, and she liked the way he kissed her until she couldn't breathe. He pinched her nipples gently through her shirt as he attacked her neck with his mouth. She held his head in place as he nibbled and sucked. She didn't know how he did it. Before that night, she had never thought of Brad as anything more than a friend, but now she needed him more than anything. The only thing that stopped her from begging was the way his mouth claimed hers again. She wrapped her legs around him as he lifted her off the floor. Brad carried her down the hall to his bedroom, then lowered her onto the bed. She reached for him with hungry hands, ripping his shirt open. His chest was defined, solid beneath her hands. She smoothed her palms over his pecs and down his abs, then curled her fingers around the waist of his pants, pulling him over her. He fell forward, barely catching himself before their lips reconnected again. He cupped her breasts, flicking his thumbs over her nipples, caressing them until she was on fire with frustration. Zoë knew she would like to take time to go over his body, to admire the beauty of his physique, to spend time learning the secret spots that made him ache, quiver, beg. She wanted to know what made him tick, find out how he tasted, let him experience everything she could offer. She knew they could spend hours, nights even, going over each other again and again. Zoë felt lost in his bed, surrounded by thick quilts and plush pillows. He pulled away from her, kicking off his pants, and pausing long enough to turn on the bedside lamp. She held her hands over her face, temporarily blinded. “What are you doing?” “I just want to look at you,” Brad answered. He pushed the blankets away from her, leaving her exposed, naked, under his heavy gaze. “Why are you blushing?” “I…nobody’s ever looked at me like that,” she said. His fingers followed the path of his eyes and of her fantasies. Starting at her cheek, he trailed his fingertips down her body, admiring each curve, each dip and valley, every smooth bit of skin. When had anybody looked at her with such a heady combination of desire, admiration, lust, and need? Brad made love to her with his eyes. He caressed the curve of her thigh, ran his tongue over her slick, pink flesh, kissed her knees, her calves, her ankles, fondled her full breasts, without touching her once. Zoë couldn’t understand why his careful, thorough perusal of her body not only made goose-bumps erupt across her skin, but sparked a hunger in her that his touch and his mouth hadn’t.

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“It’s a shame,” he murmured. “What?” she asked, her voice a bare whisper. “That’s nobody’s looked at you before.” He touched her again, circling her nipples with delicate fingers. “Why’s that?” “They can’t touch you properly if they don’t look at you,” he explained. “See? I know exactly what you need right now.” “What?” Zoë was glad he knew what she needed, because she had no idea. Her feelings were too jumbled, her body too desperate for contact. Brad dipped his head, the tip of his warm tongue dancing over her hard nipple. Zoë gasped, her breath lodged in her throat, as what felt like a thousand volts of electricity made her blood and flesh hum. Her arms and legs felt numb and heavy, her back stiffened, arched, her body silently begging him for more. He pulled her nipple into his mouth, biting it gently. She could barely feel the sharp pressure from his teeth, but the unexpected pain was welcome and intense. The unexpected pleasure went from her breast directly to her lower stomach, making her clit throb. She whimpered, trying to tell him she needed more, but he sunk his teeth a bit deeper, and she couldn’t breathe. “See?” he said, lifting his head. Zoë could only nod. “Or, another example.” Brad moved lower on the bed, dipping his head again. She could feel his hot breath against her wet pussy, and she thought he would finally relieve the ache growing between her legs. But he bypassed her hard clit, instead focusing on the soft skin of her inner thigh. He sucked the skin between his teeth gently until Zoë’s hips jerked forward, her lungs burning with air she couldn’t exhale. He nibbled and sucked on the unbelievably sensitive skin until she struggled to get away from him, overwhelmed by the white-hot pleasure that suffused her. Zoë didn’t understand how he could elicit such a response from her. How did he find the perfect spot? How did he know what to do? “You’re making me crazy,” she moaned. “Please…”

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Brad ran his tongue up her thigh, licking away a thin bead of sweat. “You feel so hot.” He blew warm air onto her sensitive skin, making her clit twitch again. When he dipped his head again, he did find the spot that would give her the most relief. Brad’s tongue brushed the tip of her clit before moving down, licking the length of her moist lips. She lifted her hips, arching her back, encouraging him to go further. He continued to tease her with his tongue, moving it in tiny circles, flicking it over her flesh quickly, playing with the area around her clit, but never quite touching her. She thought she should be frustrated or annoyed, but instead of being unbearable, the rather reserved attention only heightened her pleasure. She should be self-conscious to have so much attention in such a private place. It wasn’t that she was inexperienced, but she never had a lover who could spend so much time, who could concentrate so completely, on making her squirm and moan. When she thought her muscles would snap from the tension, he finally stopped tormenting her, and pulled her clit between his lips. She knew it wouldn’t be long. Just a few seconds of his soft mouth working against her throbbing flesh would be enough to make her come. She was already close, her body trembling from the slow teasing that led up to that moment. Brad stopped suddenly, lifting his head with a smile. Playful and impossibly pleased with himself, he made her heart twist. He pushed himself off the bed again, leaving her cold, frustrated, and anxious. “Want more?” What kind of question was that? "Yes, yes," she gasped. Brad stood in front of the bed, his body cast in shadows. He grabbed both of her legs, lifting her off the bed slightly, then hooked her knees through his arms. Satisfied with her position, he thrust into her. Zoë wasn't a screamer--it took extraordinary skill in extraordinary circumstances. But she screamed now. The sound started in her gut and was pushed through her body by the force of the mad, primal pleasure that overtook her. She closed her eyes, turning off her brain and with it, her very last inhibitions. She shouted his name and screamed for him to go faster and harder until her throat hurt. She thought she had a few moments of clarity. She thought she saw the entire world and every person in it for what it was. His grunts echoed in her mind and she barely heard them above her insanely delighted moans of encouragement.

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"Touch....me..." she demanded as she moved closer and closer to the precipice, before she completely lost control. Brad moved before she even finished speaking, reaching between them to rub her clit as hard as he fucked her. She slammed her mouth closed and gritted her teeth as she clutched at the blanket in preparation. Her breath caught in her throat and it seemed as if everything froze in one exquisitely painful moment before it shattered and the screaming moan that tore out of her throat echoed off the walls. Zoë thought that would be the end, but he kept moving, kept pushing into her until she neared the edge again. "Wait for me," he said in a low, tight voice. She barely heard him, but she concentrated on doing what he said. She whimpered and moaned for relief from the quickly building, overwhelming tension. "Wait...wait...wait..." His breathing quickened until he panted and then he pressed hard on her clit. "Now, Zoë…" “My God,” she moaned. “My God, my God.” His body buckled with his final thrust. The muscles in his thighs and stomach trembled against her flesh, sweat rolling down his skin and mingling with her perspiration despite the snow surrounding them. Brad untangled himself from her legs before collapsing on the bed beside her. She rolled over, lifting a lock of sweat-drenched hair from his forehead with shaking fingers. She couldn’t help but smile, her face reflecting the joy still radiating through her body. Brad returned her smile. “That was…really unexpected,” Zoë finally said. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time,” he admitted. “Didn’t you ever think about it?” “Not really. I mean, I’ve seen some of the girls you bring home, Brad. Besides, I thought…I never thought you’d be interested in me.” Brad rolled on top of her, resting his weight on his elbows. He kissed her slowly, playing with her mouth, tasting her sated lips and skin. He peppered her face with tiny kisses, as though he couldn’t bear to be parted from her for even a moment. She felt his cock harden against her thigh. “How old are you anyway?” Zoë asked. “Twenty-two,” he said against her neck. Zoë pulled away from him. “Twenty-two?”

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“Hmmm.” “Are you serious?” “Is that a problem?” Zoë relaxed against the pillow, tilting her head, allowing him to continue the exploration of her neck. “I’m just surprised…I thought you were a bit older.” She reached between their bodies and grasped his hard cock. “But youth does have its advantages.” Zoë wrapped her legs around him and lifted her hips, allowing him to ease into her again. He continued to kiss her face and neck, letting his lips linger over her hot, sweaty skin. She raked her fingernails down his back, enjoying the way his hard muscles flexed and moved beneath her hands. They had been hungry, even frenzied before, but now Brad moved with slow deliberation, allowing endless seconds to stretch between each movement. She adjusted to his body, focusing on each breath, each quiver of his flesh, each jolt of pleasure that ricocheted through her body each time he slid forward. “You know…I think we might be snowed in tomorrow morning.” Zoë nodded. “If it stops snowing at all.” Brad slid his arms beneath her back, holding her against him as he rolled over. She settled on top of his hard chest, happy to take the opportunity to kiss him, taste his salty, hot skin beneath her lips. Brad rested his hands on her ass, holding her against him as she set a slow pace, moving up and down his slick body. “Brad…” “Hmmm?” Zoë captured his lower-lip, pulling it between her teeth and sucking on it. “Will you wash my back?” He looked at her with foggy eyes. “What?” “When I take a bath in your gorgeous tub.” “Did you know it’s a whirlpool?” Zoë’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?” “Do you want me to show you?”

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“After…after you’re done here…” Brad smiled, moving his hips faster. “I’m so happy you slipped down those stairs.” “What?” “You know what I mean.” Zoë nodded. Just an hour before, she had been cold, lonely, and frustrated. She never would have suspected that her prince would be a twenty-two year old ski champion with an easy smile, friendly eyes, and soft hair. “Did you plan to seduce me when you went out to help me?” Zoë asked, teasing but curious. “Well, I planned to seduce you eventually.” He gripped the back of her head, bringing her face down to his so he could kiss her deeply. “And by eventually, I mean soon… very soon. I planned to seduce you within the next week. It’s marked on my calendar and everything.” Zoë laughed, resting her forehead against his. “I kinda wish you had tried sooner.” Brad lifted his hips, pushing himself into her completely. They both moaned. Zoë felt like syrup. Hot, sticky, moving syrup. “So do I,” he moaned, pushing into her again. “So do I. We’ve got some lost time to make up for.” “Well,” Zoë said, struggling to keep her thoughts and words straight. “I can’t think of a better way to get through the winter. Oh God, do that again…” The snow came down in blinding sheets, the wind swirling it into chaos outside their door. Neither heard the storm above their own moans and sighs of pleasure.

The End

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IT WAS ALWAYS YOU Samantha Sommersby

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I stared into the flames of the fire and listened as the wind howled and the thunder roared outside. Lightning cracked and the rain poured down on the rooftop. It had been months since Lee had surrendered to Grant and months since the death of President Lincoln. The state’s Government was now restored. We had new senators and a new governor, and little by little order was returning. The men who had fought in the war and lived had returned home, most of them missing an arm or a leg. They sought pardon, re-pledged their loyalty to the union between the states, and began to rebuild their lives. I wondered quite selfishly and not for the first time how I was going to go on, how Blackmoore was going to go on. I was filled with apprehension and riddled with regret. I prayed for the rain to wash away the past few years, to give me a second chance. The scars of war were evident everywhere I looked. Neither my mother nor my father had survived the war. Neither my brother nor my husband would be coming home. Nor it seemed, for that matter, would be the man that I’d loved, the man that I’d loved but lost. I looked once more at the letter in my trembling hands. Tears fell upon the well-worn parchment as I read the words one last time and then laid it onto the fire and watched it burn. I know I have no right to burden you, my brother’s wife. I most assuredly will hate myself by tomorrow when this is on its way. I don’t know that I will survive this war. I have seen so many die. We have been marching for days in mud, our rations are minimal, my shoes worn. Some of the men are marching barefoot, so I shouldn’t complain. My bitterness at your father’s refusal of my proposal to have your hand in marriage has diminished with time. Although my feelings for you remain, and always will, I understand that he did what he thought best for you and for your family. It feels as if I have aged a decade during this war. If I live through this, I promise you that somehow I will find contentment with things as they are. I will make peace, as you once asked me to, with James. I will return to Blackmoore. But there will be no more talk of me taking a wife. James may have you in his bed, but I will always hold you in my heart. There is room for no one else there, and there never will be. Devotedly, Wyatt “Will you be needin’ anythin’ more tonight, Miss Laurel?” I looked up. Cellie was standing in my doorway, her brow marred with concern for me. She had taken care of me since the day I was born, and when I moved to Blackmoore on my wedding day she came with me. She was one of only a handful who had stayed on. The slaves that had worked the land had no loyalty to me. And I didn’t blame them for leaving. The truth was, I wanted to leave. But I had no place to go. Magnolia, the only other home I’d known, had been burnt to the ground – my father in it. Devastated

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by the death of my mother earlier in the year and proud beyond reason, he saw to its destruction before the Yankees could cross its threshold. The thunder rolled loudly and Cellie looked up, then tilted her head to the side. “What is it?” I asked her. Then I heard it, too, a soft, steady pounding at the door. I climbed quickly to my feet and retrieved my pistol from underneath my pillow. I had taken to sleeping with it the day that James left, and sadly it brought me far more comfort than he ever had. I dashed down the hall then the stairs, Cellie at my heels. “Miss Laurel, you’re in your night…” “Shh!” I said. I closed my eyes and moistened my lips. My heart was pounding in anticipation, the gun shaking in my nervous hands. Then, without warning, a flame of hope flickered from somewhere deep inside of me. I stepped back, pointed the gun at the door, and steadily said, “Open it.” Cellie looked at me, then at the door. I nodded encouragement and watched in rapt attention as she reached out for the knob, turned it, and slowly pulled the door open. The man that had been leaning against it crumpled to his knees. His clothes were ragged and soaked through. He was covered in grime and thinner than I remembered. “Wyatt!” I gasped, dropping the weapon and running to him. “Wyatt!” I called out as I lifted his head and stared into his eyes. “Oh, Cellie! I think he’s hurt…or sick. Please! Fetch John and Jacob. We need to get him upstairs by the fire.” I fell to my knees and pulled Wyatt to my breast. “It’s all right, Wyatt,” I sobbed. “You’re home.” “Laurel?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Yes, Wyatt. It’s me. It’s Laurel.” John and Jacob arrived quickly and it took little effort for them to help Wyatt up the stairs. “Lay some towels out on the bed, Cellie. Quickly. Then heat some water. John? Help me with his clothes.” “We can take care of this, Miss Laurel,” said John. “Jacob and I can see to Master Wyatt. Cellie can start a fire in the parlor, make you a nice cup of tea.” “Laurel?” whispered Wyatt.

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“I’m not leaving him. You do as I say and then you leave us alone.” “Oh, I don’t think you should be alone with him, Miss Laurel,” said Cellie disapprovingly. “You think I care what anyone thinks? Well, I don’t!” I felt it as Wyatt grabbed my wrist and gave it a tug. “I want a bath,” he said. “You’re weak, Wyatt and…” “I want a bath,” he repeated, this time his voice a bit stronger, more steady. “John, set him down in the chair, then help Cellie. We’re going to need lots of water. Jacob, bring in the tub.” “Where’s James?” asked Wyatt as I knelt before him and began to remove his boots. “You shouldn’t be…” I looked up at him, my eyes filled with tears. “Dead,” I said. “It’s been over a year now.” “I’m sorry,” he replied, reaching out to wipe one of my tears away. “You still mourn him. You...you loved him.” “No,” I admitted freely. “I never loved him. Never. Wyatt, it was always you. Always.” Wyatt reached down and pulled me to him. He wrapped his arms around me in a strong embrace. Relief flooded through me and I began to weep. “Always?” he managed to croak out. “Yes, Wyatt. Always.” The dampness from his clothing quickly penetrated my light cotton gown and despite the warmth of the moment, I shivered. “I’m afraid I’m covered in dirt. It’s gone and rubbed off on you,” he whispered. Wyatt released me just as Jacob walked into the room. He casually picked my shawl up off the floor where I’d been sitting earlier, then wrapped it around my shoulders concealing the evidence of our indiscretion. We sat in silence as the tub was put into position and filled.

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“I can manage,” he told Jacob when the strapping young man moved to help him stand. “Laurel, get me my razor. I’ll want to shave when I’m finished with my bath. I’ll want a brandy, too. Tell Cellie to light a fire in my room. By the time I’m through here it should be warm enough. Lord knows it will be far better than what I’ve grown used to.” I shooed John and Jacob from the room and then I removed my shawl and began to roll up the sleeves of my gown. “Stubborn as ever, I see. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re weak, Wyatt. You need help.” “I was sick with the fever for a long time. But I’m better now. Just tired from the travel, from the walking. I’ll be right as rain once I’ve rested, you’ll see. I’m filthy, Laurel. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper bath. Let me clean myself up. I hate to have you see me this way.” “What? Do you think I’m afraid of a little dirt? Well, I’m not! I even helped bring the cotton in last year, I’ll have you know.” Wyatt reached for my hands and held them up so that he could inspect them in the firelight. He ran the pads of his thumbs over the calluses, and then I watched as tears silently leaked from the corners of his eyes. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. I should have been here. I should have been here, not off fighting some war that I never believed in.” “You’re here now,” I murmured lifting his chin. “You’re home where you belong, home with me. You sure you can manage?” Wyatt nodded and I smiled at him. “I’m going to go find your razor and get that brandy.” “It won’t take me long,” he said. “Take as long as you need.” ~ “You shouldn’t be goin’ in there ‘till you’re called,” scolded Cellie. “Hush. Now hand me that tray and go on to bed. It’s late.” Cellie shook her head, then handed me the tray, opened the bedroom door, and walked down the hall towards the stairs muttering to herself. Wyatt was in the bath. He was facing the door, and the moment I stepped foot in the room, my eyes locked with his. Steam was rising up around him, and his skin was flush from the heat. His hair had been washed, its soft dark curls slicked back. Rivulets of

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water were cascading down his neck and over his sculpted chest. He held a bar of soap in his hands and he was turning it ever so slowly, creating a rich lather. “You gonna come on in or are you gonna stand there in the doorway?” he asked as he soaped up his muscular arms. “I was hoping for an invitation,” I told him. “Cellie is right. You shouldn’t be alone with me.” I walked over to the bed, set down the tray, and poured us each a brandy. “When did you start drinking brandy?” he asked, sounding amused. “Same day I started pickin’ cotton! Let’s get you shaved. I want to make sure it’s really you under there. I’ll hold the mirror.” He laughed. “I’ve learned to do this without a mirror.” I handed him his razor then crouched down alongside the tub, resting my cheek on its edge and gazing up at him. “I can’t believe you’re here.” “I could pinch you, just to make sure you’re awake,” he said as he ran the edge of the razor over his rough beard. “I’d rather you kissed me. It’s been a really long time since you’ve kissed me.” “I’ve never kissed you.” “Yes, you have. Don’t you remember? I still do. I think about it all the time. We were out riding. I was on Chestnut and you were on Midnight. That branch sprung back and I nearly fell off. I still have the scar,” I said, lifting some of my long auburn hair away from my forehead and leaning in closer to show him. “You ripped off a bit of your shirt and held it there until the bleeding stopped. Then you kissed me.” “On your forehead. That doesn’t count.” “Best kiss I ever had,” I told him standing up and taking another sip of the brandy. I climbed up on the bed, stretched out, then rolled over so that I could see his reaction. “I could do better,” he said. “You probably promise all the girls that.” “I’ve never promised another girl anything. Avert your eyes. I’m through.”

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“Don’t be silly,” I told him as I placed my glass on the bedside table and then walked towards him, towel in hand. “You don’t need to protect my virtue.” “Maybe I’d rather pretend that I did,” he said. Taking the towel from me, he quickly stood up and wrapped it around his waist. I must have looked every bit as stung by his comment as I felt because his expression softened instantly. “I apologize. That was uncalled for. I suppose it makes no sense for me to be jealous of James, not now.” He wearily stepped out of the tub. I wrapped my arm around his waist and encouraged him to lean on me. “Are you hungry? I can make biscuits, and we have a bit of gravy left,” I told him as I guided him over to the four-poster. “Can you now? You can make biscuits?” “If you would like. Cellie taught me. She got sick for a spell. The men all had enough work to do, so I…well, I tried to cook.” “As much as I’d love to see that, it’s sleep I need most now,” he admitted. “Help me to my bed?” “Yes, Wyatt,” I said softly as I pulled back the coverlet of the four-poster. When I saw his hesitation, I added. “Blackmoore is yours. This is your house, your room, your bed.” “I’m too tired to fight you tonight,” he said as he casually dropped the towel, crawled between the crisp white sheets and then lay down. “Good!” I sat on the edge of the bed and began to run my fingers through his hair. After a minute or two, Wyatt leaned up on one elbow and nodded towards the tray that held his untouched brandy. I retrieved the tray from the foot of the bed, placed it on the bedside table, and then picked up his glass, warming it a bit in my hands. As he took it from me, his fingers grazed mine. His touch was but a whisper, but its lingering effects were staggering. He finished his drink in one quick swallow and handed the empty glass back to me. And then he closed his eyes, letting his head fall upon the pillow, my pillow. “Sleep sweet, Wyatt,” I whispered, moving away cautiously so as not to disturb him.

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He reached out and stopped me. “Don’t go,” he said as he shifted over towards the middle of the bed. “Stay with me, Laurel.” It was an easy decision. I had loved Wyatt Blackmoore for as far back as I could remember. The saddest day of my life had been the day my father had given me in marriage to Wyatt’s older brother, James. Wyatt begged my father to reconsider and he begged James as well. But they were unrelenting. Wyatt and I were both sixteen. He left for the war soon thereafter, unable to bear remaining at Blackmoore. Unable to bear seeing me made its mistress, but not his wife. I looked into his deep blue eyes and saw my own longing and desire reflecting back at me. So much time had been wasted. So many nights spent apart, alone. I reached up and untied the bow at the neckline of my gown and then pulled it off my shoulders. Wyatt watched as the thin white cotton separated then slipped down my torso and over my hips to pool at my feet. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmured, turning back the edge of the bedcovers. “You’ve imagined me? This? What have you imagined?” He blushed and glanced away. “Wyatt, heavens! Don’t be shy. Look at me!” I insisted after I climbed in alongside of him. “I’ve imagined this too, so many times I’ve imagined it.” “You have? Us? Like this?” “Yes.” He reached out, picked up a strand of my hair, and twirled it between his fingertips, examining it closely. “I’ve imagined loving you,” he began. “I’ve imagined holding you in my arms every night. I’ve imagined waking up with you, here, in this bed with the sun streaming through the windows. I’ve imagined you full with child, my child. I’ve imagined caring for you and you caring for me. I’ve imagined living my entire life with you, Laurel. Every day, I’ve imagined it. I imagined it so much that I find myself questioning if this is all a dream. Some wonderful, glorious dream.” I sat up and reached for Wyatt’s hand. “This is real. I’m real,” I assured him as I lifted it to my face, then down the length of my neck. “And I’m here. I’m here and I want you. I need you Wyatt.”

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He sat up, reached behind my neck and pulled me close, crushing his lips to mine in an almost bruising kiss. I had expected Wyatt to be tender and hesitant, to be careful and shy. He wasn’t. He knew what he wanted and with my permission was taking it freely. I gasped in surprise, and, as my mouth opened, he slid his tongue inside. He turned me and eased me back down on the bed. He smelled of the clove soap and tasted like the brandy. His hair still felt damp as I laced my fingers through it. I returned his ardent kiss with equal fervor, needing for him to know that I burned for him just as much as he did for me. He pulled back abruptly and looked into my eyes with unguarded amazement. “What?” I asked. Wyatt ran his fingertips lightly over my bottom lip and smiled. “Nothing.” I spread my legs and sighed as I felt his hips lower, his evident arousal brushing up against my moistened curls. “I want to make this last forever,” I whispered. “I’m going to be lucky if I last fifteen seconds, darlin’. We might have to try for forever tomorrow.” Wyatt teased. I boldly reached down and wrapped my hand around his shaft, squeezing it firmly and then touching its tip to my center. His composure crumbled. I watched his eyes roll up and all of the muscles in his neck flex with tension. “Laurel!” “See how much I want you?” I told him. “My body’s been pining for yours all these years. Wanting you. Waiting for you. Oh, Wyatt, only you!” I could feel the muscles of his stomach shudder in anticipation and I began to brace myself in preparation for his entrance. My relations with James had always felt quite unsatisfactory, but that had never really surprised me. The marriage bed was something to be endured. It was part of my duty to James. But Wyatt? Wyatt I wanted to please, and I was determined to. Strangely enough, the idea of him pleasuring me physically or how intoxicating it would be for me to feel wanted, desired… Well, it wasn’t really at the forefront of my mind. I was utterly and completely unprepared for it. Wyatt pushed himself up and off of me with both arms, casting aside the bed sheets. “Did I do something wrong?” I asked, obvious panic in my voice. “No. You’re doing everything right,” he assured me. “Want to see you. All of you.” He said as he kissed a path of hot open-mouthed kisses down the length of my neck and

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between the valley of my breasts. He moaned in pleasure as he latched on to one, suckling it like a babe while he palmed the other gently in his hand. The moan came from deep within his throat and as he pulled my breast eagerly into his mouth I could feel the sensation down to the very tips of my curled up toes. My body felt stretched like a bow, arching up wantonly, begging for more. He released his hold on me with a pop and at the same time he slid his hand down the length of my body, over my taut stomach to the patch of curls between my thighs. “You liked that,” he said, his voice rough with desire. It wasn’t a question and for that I was grateful. I could barely breathe properly. I was quite confident that coherent speech would be completely beyond my reach. Wyatt moved slowly down my body, peppering my stomach with heart melting kisses. “I’m going to worship you,” he promised as he moved lower still. “Worship you like I’ve always wanted to.” He began to coax my legs apart. I reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, which seemed to get his attention splendidly. “What are you doing?” His eyes were wide in surprise. He reached up, gently removed my hand, kissed the inside of my palm, then softly replied, “Loving you.” My legs parted of their own accord. Suddenly, it was as if my body had a mind of its own. Wyatt, sensing my consent, dipped his head and tasted me for the first time. Pleasure coursed through me, pleasure like I had never known. It was strong enough to make me want to weep, and I thought that I would if Wyatt didn’t stop. Then I realized that I might weep if he did. He reached inside of me, touching me in ways and in places that I never thought possible. “Wyatt!” I gasped. “Dear Lord! You need to stop!” I cried out. My body felt as if it were on fire, burning me up from the inside. I was trembling. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. “I…I think I’m going to faint!” I warned him. But he didn’t stop. He sucked my bud into his warm, wet mouth and tugged on it. I swear I saw stars. I wanted desperately to reach for something, to hold on to something. And then Wyatt was there. He was right above me, his forehead lightly touching mine. He brushed the stray tendrils of hair from my face and then he slipped one hand underneath my knee, opened me up, and slid inside.

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His eyes never left mine as he churned his hips, deep and slow, over and over. “I thought…I thought you were tired,” I said, still panting. “Seems you’ve inspired me,” he told me, looking happier than I had ever seen anyone look in my entire life. “Wrap your legs around me.” “Why?” Wyatt had both my hands in his, our fingers interlaced and positioned on either side of my head. “Trust me, wrap you legs around my hips.” I did. I did trust Wyatt and I did as he asked. “That’s it, darlin’. Just angle your hips up a bit more.” “Oh!” I cried out. With each thrust the base of his swollen member rubbed against my sensitive bud. My stomach began to coil up. It was as if I were being wound tighter and tighter. Wyatt sucked my earlobe into his mouth and then began to fervently kiss me just behind the ear. My heart was beating so loud I feared for a second that it was going to break my chest. I could hear the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins. I swear I could even smell the rain outside. I had never felt so alive and so on the verge of dying. And then he said the words that pushed me over the edge. The words that made me fall into oblivion and back again. Wyatt Blackmoore said, “I love you.” ~ At first I was only vaguely aware that someone was pounding on the door. Then my head cleared. I pushed Wyatt off me, and sat bolt upright. “So much for falling asleep in one another’s arms. I guess you’re finished with me then?” “It’s Cellie,” I gasped. “I heard,” he replied in between yawns. “She’ll go away soon enough.” “Why is she here?” I asked feeling once again as if I was six years old and had just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. “Well…you screamed, darlin’.”

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I began to laugh, but then I saw the serious look on Wyatt’s face. “I screamed?” “Yes, Ma’am,” he said proudly, a wide grin on his face. “I’m not goin’ away till I see Miss Laurel is all right!” shouted Cellie. Wyatt sighed. He climbed out of bed, pulled the sheet up off of the floor, wrapped it around his waist, then walked over to the door. “What are you doing? She’ll know!” I hissed. “You want to keep how much you enjoy my bedding you a secret, you are going to have to learn to be much more quiet,” he said matter-of-factly before opening the door. “What is it, Cellie?” he asked. You would have thought he was inquiring about the weather, or about what she was planning to serve for dessert. I would have thrown something at him if I hadn’t been so afraid of calling more attention to myself. “I…I heard Miss Laurel yell.” “You know I would never hurt her. Did it sound like she was hurt?” I couldn’t see Cellie, but I could imagine the look of disapproval on her big round face as she gazed upon Wyatt standing before her in nothing but a bed sheet. I held my breath. “I’ve just never heard her scream like that before and…” “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, then he reached out and with a gentle tug pulled Cellie into the room. “Wyatt!” I yelped bending over to retrieve the nightgown from the floor so that I could cover myself. “See?” he said, gesturing towards me. “She’s fine. In fact, she’s better than fine. Aren’t you, Laurel?” All I could do was nod like a ninny. “Now, I know that you feel protective about Miss Laurel, Cellie, but I can’t have you pounding on the door and interrupting our… time together. Is that clear?”

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“Yes, Sir!” said Cellie, nodding vigorously and averting her eyes as she backed out of the room. “Good night, Master Blackmoore.” “Good night,” said Wyatt firmly. Before the door closed all the way, he paused and called out, “Cellie?” “Sir?” “Thank you. Thank you for staying on here. I won’t forget what you did, how you helped.” “Y…you’re welcome, sir,” I heard Cellie reply. Then before he could close the door, she boldly said, “I sure do hope you plan on marrying her, Master Blackmoore.” “How would tomorrow suit you Cellie?” Cellie chuckled. Her laughter was a welcoming sound, and it had been ages since I’d heard it. “Tomorrow would suit me just fine. But perhaps you should confirm that with Miss Laurel.” Wyatt closed the bedroom door and returned to the bed, our bed. He rolled onto his back and opened up his arms. “Come here,” he beckoned. “Wyatt?” “Shh. This is the part where we fall asleep in one another’s arms. I’m tired.” I lay my head on his chest, wrapped my arm around his waist and smiled contentedly. “You weren’t tired a few minutes ago,” I reminded him. “Hmm,” he replied. “I want to hear it again.” “You’re pouting, aren’t you?” “I most certainly am not! Only little girls pout.” “I bet you have that wrinkle that you get between your eyebrows when you’re unhappy about something.” “I do not. What wrinkle?”

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“And I bet that your bottom lip is sticking out ever so slightly.” “You could have said it by now, you know. You’re just being mean, stubborn and mean.” “I love you, Laurel.” “I love you, too, Wyatt.” “You wanna get married tomorrow?” “Wyatt, we can’t get married tomorrow. Why, there are preparations that have to be made and…” “You’ve got a week, pick a day. I can’t abide letting us go on this way longer than that.” “In a week it will be Christmas…” “I’m not going to let you sully my virtue. You’re going to make an honest man out of me, Laurel. It’s the least I deserve.” “Sully your virtue!” I laughed. “If your skills are any indication, Master Blackmoore, I’d wager that you don’t have a virtuous bone left in your body.” “I read a lot,” said Wyatt, quietly before kissing me on the top of my head. “So, Christmas it is?” “Well…it would save me the trouble of having to get you a present,” I teased. “I’ll let you off the hook this year, but by next? I want a son. A daughter will do in a pinch. Heck, surprise me,” he said, trying to suppress another yawn. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I’m not about to start finding fault with you over something like that.” “For as long as you remember?” “Yes, ma’am.” “It was that way for you, too?” “Yes, darlin’” “It…it was always me?” “Every minute of every day… It was always you.”

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The End

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MIDNIGHT WINTERS Holly Denise Smith

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It was almost a testament to time how much the same tavern could flash a thousand different faces over the course of three hundred years. While the drunken barflies never seemed to leave, the atmosphere itself was on a nonstop course to full evolution. It had been a pub for half a century before it was bought and turned into a diner. There was a six month stint in which it was a ladies hat store, but the lingering scent of alcohol could not help but reemerge every three years or so. Despite whatever facelift the tavern undertook, it was the place Jael Winter came every December. Every December since 1697. Here she would wait, as she did every year on the night known commonly as Christmas Eve. Would wait until he came in, and her year met fruition. Even in the life prior to her nocturnal rebirth, Jael could not fathom living without the thrill of the winter season pushing her through the common twelve-month cycle of every insufferable year. Gabriel met her here every December the 24th just as the old grandfather clock that had somehow survived the years struck the hour of midnight. They would spend the holiday in each other’s arms, and wake up in separate beds in the morning. As vampires, it was all they could chance. Such was the way it was between all vampire lovers. One night of the year, maybe two. No connection beyond that. Nothing that anyone in their dark existence, or the other world bathed in sunlight, would ever call a relationship. Vampires couldn’t have relationships. It was as simple as that. Gabriel was her maker. He had been in her corner from the very beginning. Her protector since childhood. In the absence of vampiric relations, most vampires turned to humans to satisfy carnal desires. Claiming humans as mates for eternity was not taboo, not like turning to other vampires. A ritual claim involved an exchange of blood; the components of vampire blood enabled human mates to live forever, though the connection did not run as deeply as it would with other vampires. When a human female was sad, her vampire mate did not cry. When a human male was cut, his vampire mate did not bleed. They were different. Separate. One could die and the other would live. It was not like that among vampires. Among vampires, those tied together beyond the blood of sires felt everything. Shared everything. Their fate was the same. Always the same. Every society had their great tragedies. Romeo and Juliet. Napoleon and Josephine. Vampires had a tragedy, too. Well known to them, a well kept secret among the humans they protected. Unlike the tale of Dracula, the one among them that had gone bad and henceforth established the grizzly stereotype of all vampires, the story of

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Lazarus and Anna Marley Rhyce remained shrouded from the world of humans. Remained shrouded, and a cautionary tale that kept all those who belonged to he night in line. For the sake of a species. For the sake of an entire way of life. Lazarus and Anna had had a passionate love affair, mated, and were killed when angry villagers fingered Anna for the death for a beloved elderly man in southern France, then Gaul. Back in the day when vampires and humans lived side-by-side. When vampires were accepted as the guardians of humans—unnamed, of course, except for the casual reference of Those Who Go By Night. In that time, vampires were more likely to feed from cattle to acquire what was needed, and they did so while humans rested. When the monstrosity of their dependence on blood could be hidden in the shadow of night. They were careful, but ultimately accidents did happen. One cow would die. Then another, then another. Respect for the Nightly Ones turned into fear. Fear turned into blame. And when the elderly man died of anemia, fear manifested fully into violence. Anna was seized, imprisoned, and tortured. At night she was beaten for information. On occasion, she was bled and burned, and every time her skin was marred, inhuman howls ripped through the ground, shattering the quiet of night as her mate endured the agony of her pain. Some said he died crawling in the sunlight to reach his beloved, others said the pain he suffered was too much, and he drew his last breath the second Anna was burned at the stake. Others said his moniker of Lazarus guaranteed that he would return, and those who lived in the village now still swore he haunted the grounds he died upon. Granted, the tale had suffered severe revisions over the last several centuries. The tragedy of Lazarus and Anna had established the law. Never could vampires mate. Never could vampires claim each other, if only to become subject to that sort of torment. If vampires mated, they became liabilities, even to each other. Such had been the law for centuries. Such was the reason Jael came to the same tavern every year and waited for Gabriel to arrive. Tonight was the only night they had, because they were both vampires, and that was simply the way of things. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Her death had been sudden at a time when her town was overwhelmed by an epidemic of scarlet fever. She and Gabriel had been planning to mate for two years when she became ill, and as he sobbed over her in what she was sure would have been her last day, she had begged him to turn her. He had. Through his tears, he had given her new life. She hadn’t known becoming what he was meant that she couldn’t have the life they’d planned together. She still remembered the night she had clawed to freedom. The first night she had opened her eyes and bathed in the soft glow of starlight. Gabriel was waiting for her,

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his eyes heavy with sorrow, his skin bathed in the scent of tears. His soft blue eyes had found hers, and he had taken her into his arms, murmured his love and begged her forgiveness. Then he had told her the story. The reason vampires couldn’t be together, even as casual lovers. The urge to claim one another, he said, would grow unbearable. There were several who succumbed to the temptation, and they were expelled from the vampire Order. And expulsion wasn’t as nice as it sounded. Expulsion was pretty much a death certificate. Gabriel had taught her everything about being a vampire that she needed to learn in order to survive in the world. They had attempted to stop seeing each other completely, which completely failed utterly; if she wasn’t following him, he followed her. They would meet in a tearful passion and make love until the sun came up. Ultimately, Gabriel suggested that this place—this tavern—would mark their reunion every Christmas Eve. They could be together the one night of the year that the world had decided should be spent with loved ones. One night, though. Only one. It always ate her up. More than three hundred years, she had survived simply to get to Christmas Eve. She went to movies; she occasionally worked with authorities on cases as a visiting detective with forged credentials, and she read more books than writers could produce in a year. She adopted the last name Winter in silent homage to the single night that she spent the year waiting for. She did anything to lose herself to time, to ignore the nagging in her gut that Gabriel wasn’t with her; that he didn’t belong to her for three hundred and sixty-four days. That for every night of the year, save one, he could find solace in the arms of any woman that crossed his path. That he was not hers. He could never be hers, because they were both vampires, and could not mate. Tonight that didn’t matter. Tonight he belonged to her. The door to the pub swung open, and a familiar scent washed over her. Instantly, her body softened into warm compliance. It was okay again. For a few hours, everything would be okay. Gabriel was here now. Her body positively hummed. Gabriel. He took a seat next to her, shrugging off the leather he had appeared in for the past several years. It was a different coat this time. Longer, more becoming. Almost royal. It was worthy of her Gabriel.

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“Whisky,” he told the bar hand, lighting a cigarette. There was a thick silence as a glass slid across the bar and auburn liquid pooled in a clear tumbler. It was a vile drink, but it similarly suited Gabriel. Vampire drunkenness wasn’t unheard of, but it took well more than a few drinks to get a nightwalker inebriated. He took a long sip of his drink, exhaled a puff of smoke, then turned to her with a small smile. “You wouldn’t happen to be a Kenite, would you?” Jael shifted slightly, a grin tugging at her lips. “Worthy of recognition, even though I am no woman of Israel?” His arm curled around her, and he nuzzled her blonde hair with familiar affection that made her heart flutter and ache in the same instance. “God, I’ve missed you.” “It’s only been a year.” “Longest year yet.” “You say that every year.” “And every year I mean it more.” Gabriel shuddered violently and downed the rest of his drink. “You look gorgeous.” She flushed. “Thank you.” “How has your year been?” Terrible. “Fabulous.” “Really?” “Oh yeah.” A long pause. “Any new men in your life?” “I keep my eyes open.” Lie. She shunned every man who attempted to touch her. Her body—heart and soul included—belonged solely to Gabriel. Her eyes fluttered shut as he edged closer, his lips finding her throat. “You smell divine.” “Gabe…” “Need you now.” He reeled back, his eyes flashing apologetically. “I’m sorry, sweetling. I just…can we go now?”

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That lent her pause. He was acting strange. Gabriel always enjoyed the pretense that they were strangers instead of what they were. She supposed it was easier for him if it seemed like a random encounter instead of the most important date of the year. If they pretended they didn’t mean what they did to each other. If they pretended it was random, so as not to stir trouble in the Order. “Gabriel?” His lips swept over hers. “Please.” She needed no persuasion. No reason. The less time they spent here, the more time they had together. All she needed was him. “All right,” she whispered. “Your place still—” “Around the corner.” Gabriel tossed a few bills onto the counter and nodded to the bartender, tugging her to her feet. “Never change, do you?” “You want me to?” “Not in a million years.” She smiled sadly. A million years. Would they still be playing this game a million years from now? Three hundred had been unbearable; she didn’t know if she could suffer through a million of them. But she supposed that didn’t matter. Gabriel was with her now. And until the sun came up, that was all that mattered. ~ Tonight was going to be different. He felt it. Hell, he’d known it the second he stepped into the pub. Seeing her under the soft glow of lights much too cheap to capture her glory. The woman he loved. The woman he lived to see for just a few hours. Every second apart from her constructed another level in his personal hell. He felt cheap for being so easily defined, for being strung along for so many years for the promise of the one woman he could never have, but love knew

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no reasoning. No boundaries. The rules of the Order didn’t apply, and love certainly didn’t listen. Time had not healed him. Time had only made his feelings grow almost unbearable. And being so close to her now…something was going to change. Something tonight was going to change. They were at the door now. Her apartment. Her bedroom. Her refuge. The place where he was welcomed once every year to forget his loneliness in the sanctuary of her body. Her body flush against his; his so hard he was sure the flimsy zipper on his slacks would pop. Had it been anyone else, he would have been surprised at the depth of his reaction. But it wasn’t anyone else; it was her. It was Jael. His golden goddess. She could smite him with a look if she wanted. So much power in her small, capable hands. It unnerved him to think himself so easily rattled. There had been no such thing as love in his life before he met her. Before he found her three hundred years ago, and was forced to let her go. Forced to forfeit their promised eternity because she could no longer be human. For the illness that had nearly killed her, and taken away the one woman he could see himself mated to for the rest of time. A bittersweet pang struck his heart at that. He thought of it sometimes still. Of losing himself and claiming her, to hell with the rest. He longed for the taste of her blood, the feel of her fangs, the promise of her arms. The thought alone was enough to inspire anyone to tears. Anyone who knew the agony of what he felt. Of having everything he had ever wanted right beneath his fingertips, and forcing himself to let her go. Every year, he let her go all over again. Every year, he relived that horrible night when she had died in his arms. And every year, he fought the temptation to claim her. To make her his forever. Of course, any sort of ceremony was impossible, and he felt like a fool for even entertaining the notion. Still, the thought of spending eternity with her was too rich to cast aside, even if such aspirations only filled him with sorrow. He was still so terrified of scaring her off with the intensity of his regard. He felt if she ever knew just how much he loved her; there would be no more of this. No more tempting fate, no more tempting desire, no more challenging the decree of the Order to have their night together. No more sharing this stolen holiday with her. No more tasting each other for hours and pretending it was enough for a year. That his heart didn’t break when he left her before the sun rose, and returned to his cold, empty existence. No more of her guiding him into their bedroom and closing the door behind them. “Jael…” Her hands were already busy at her top, revealing the satin of her black bra to his hungry eyes. The cream of her skin against the contrast of the material was surprising in its effect. Gabriel liked fancy cacique and scantily-clad women as well as the next

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hormone-infused male, but he had never truly envisioned himself being so turned on by something that simple. Logically, he knew Jael wore bras. Hell, he had snapped her out of practically every style the past generations had fed to impressionable women, always eager to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands. He had never known her to wear black. Never known her to go out of her way to look so delectable in her undergarments. She had a rather adorable fixation on her assumption that her panties and other unmentionables were, as she called them, plain and boring. All this despite the fact that seeing her so bare fogged his eyes with lust to the point that she could be wearing a doormat and he wouldn’t notice. His thoughts must have run away with him, for when he blinked, Jael was wearing nothing but that black bra and a pair of matching panties. And he was still fully clothed; unable to do anything but gawk at how gorgeous she was. Jael shifted uncomfortably. “I…I wanted to try something new…for us tonight.” “You’re beautiful.” Her blush enchanted him. She was his seductress, his only temptation, and she somehow didn’t know it. “I was hoping you’d like.” Gabriel released a deep breath, fighting his desire to growl something primitive and throw her on the bed. Instead, his eyes glazed over, and he stepped toward her predatorily, a lump forming in his throat. “Beautiful,” he murmured again, fingers entertaining themselves at her left strap. Then his mouth couldn’t stand the torment of being parted from her flesh, and his lips descended once more upon her neck, tasting her sweet skin as his arms curled under her shoulders and pulled her against him. “You’re killing me.” “I didn’t…” A heady gasp tumbled through her throat as his nimble fingers worked the front clasp of her bra, trembling with the knowledge that she wouldn’t like it if he ripped something she had just bought. Then he was tugging at her nipples, mouth sweeping her mouth as he explored her face with soft, sweet kisses. “I wasn’t doing anything.” “You unmake me with a look,” he growled, encouraging her hands to the buttons of his top. He hadn’t gone with a suit; rather a dressier shirt and dark slacks. They had looked tonight, in his opinion, as though they were fashioned for the purpose of being together. More poetic whims that brought out the traditionalist in him, but the notion was warming nonetheless. Gabriel seized her mouth in another kiss as his shirt fell to the floor. He turned her in his arms so that her back was facing the bed and walked her to it slowly, his hands massaging circles into her hips. She sat when her legs met the mattress, looking up at him as he gazed down at her, his touch moving to her hair as she lifted nervous fingers to the clasp of his trousers and slowly drew him out.

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God, he nearly melted then. Her small hand cradling his cock with veneration, stroking him to further hardness as his pants pooled at his ankles before joining his shoes on the floor. “Jael,” he gasped, releasing her hair. With as much as he wanted to hold her in place, there was something about the gesture that struck him as wrong; wholly disrespectful, and miles a part from the place that his love for her began. He had told her lifetimes ago that he never expected anything, and it remained true. Whatever she gave him was enough. “God.” Her other hand dropped to his balls and squeezed him lightly. “You like?” Was she actually expecting him to talk? Her tongue flicked over the head of his cock, and a small murmur of approval rumbled through her throat. As though she actually enjoyed this. The few girls that shared his bed when the nights without her grew unbearable had done this for him based on principle alone; he gave, so they gave. None of them had enjoyed it, and several had taken it upon themselves to tell him so with a few choice words. The notion that Jael did—could—was touching but impossible. He never wanted her to feel that she had to do this for him…though he was not such a putz that he would tell her to stop if she didn’t want to. “J-Jael—” Her tongue took to the underside of his erection, laving him in long, wet laps. Lifting her hand just slightly so she could taste his sac with her tongue. Suckling gently and just barely teasing him with her teeth. “God!” Gabriel snarled something unintelligible and shoved her back on the bed. “Drive me outta my mind, you know that?” “Well, you drive me out of mine more.” “Don’t think so, sweetheart.” His mouth surrounded one rosy nipple, his right hand caressing her neglected breast as his other skated down the length of her. Stroking her gently through the satin of her sodden panties. “So wet.” “Uhhh…” “So sweet.” “Gabriel, please.” He scraped the tip of her nipple with his teeth before pulling back to draw her panties down her legs. His eyes transfixed on her dewy center that glistened at him even

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through the darkness. “So fucking gorgeous,” he murmured reverently, a hand skimming up her leg to tease her soft curls. “You have any idea how delicious you are?” “You have any idea how often you’ve asked me that over the years?” A smirk quirked his lips. “Sassy.” “No.” She lifted her hips in offering, eyes wide with need. “Horny.” “Well, at least you’re honest.” He edged a finger into her slowly, eyes twinkling when her own went wide, her pelvis leaping into his touch. He carefully avoided her clit even as his other fingers took to exploring her; rubbing her folds, edging into her warmth, feeling her warm juices run onto his skin. Tempting him with her taste. “Honesty’s a quality I love in a woman.” “Gah.” “You disagree?” “No other women.” Not tonight. Tonight, she was the only woman. Tonight there was no one else. Tonight, she was it for him. Tomorrow there could be others. Gabriel’s brow perked teasingly. He read her so well. “Well, I’m sure you’re not the only woman who—” “Gabriel!” He smiled, his eyes lowering with remorse as a shudder raced through his body. “Baby, I promise you. You have nothing to worry about.” Nothing? No, she wasn’t that dense. Gabriel was gorgeous, and she only had him for one night. The rest of the year belonged to other women. She couldn’t believe, or even expect him to remain celibate when they were apart, even if her love for him prevented her from doing anything but. He withdrew his fingers from her carefully, ignoring her answering whimper of complaint. He licked her taste off his skin, then lowered his hand to her mouth so that she might have a sample herself. Her nose wrinkled in complaint before his answering look reminded her that she had done the same with him, and it would be no different to taste herself than it had been to drink him down.

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“Samson spoke of the honey in the lion,” he told her softly. “Think he had it wrong, though.” “Oh?” He couldn’t tell if she was just dizzy with lust or oblivious as to the reference. By the look in her gaze, hazed with desire though clouded by confusion, he decided it was a combination of both. “You’re the bloody honey, honey,” he replied, prowling up her body slowly. “Thank God I’m not a Nazirite. Can drink you all I like without fear of punishment.” Her eyes flickered as though inspired by some distant memory, and her cheeks flushed. “Ahhh…Gabe.” The head of his cock was teasing her folds, slipping over her wet skin with the promise of the haven that awaited him. He loved looking at her like this. Loved watching her pant with need, aroused beyond words at the hand of his touch. Sweat already rolling down her forehead. Her body warm and pliant, welcoming his. Needing his. Her nails dug into his forearms, her head lifting to steal a kiss from his lips. His own hand between them, rubbing himself against her until it was too much for both of them, and he sank into her with a blissful groan. “Shit,” he gasped. “Feels so good.” Jael whimpered, her eyes falling shut. “I’ve missed this,” she said softly, her muscles clenching around him. “It’s been too long.” Gabriel smiled tenderly as he began to move within her, eyes on her face. Drowning in the feel of her around him. The warmth that she offered, scorching him alive and drenching that thirst in the same beat. “Too long,” he agreed, pebbling a nipple between his fingers, watching her hungrily as she panted and squeezed him again. “God, I’ve missed this, too. Every second apart. Been starved for you.” “I’ve…uhhh…” His thrusts were gaining momentum; her hands at his shoulders, nails embedding in his skin as he moved to strike that perfect angle within her. “Gabriel…God, I…” He chuckled, dropping kisses along her throat as he edged a hand between their entangled bodies. His fingers dancing over her slippery skin, fingering her teasingly before capturing her clit. Enjoying the way her face melted into a pleasured, throaty gasp. Her nails digging even deeper into his skin. Hurting him sweetly. Propelling his cock deeper within her. Needing as much as she would give; giving as much as he could, despite his knowledge that it would never be enough. “Oh God!” she screamed, her muscles clenching him so tight he was genuinely surprised when he didn’t pop. “So good.”

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“Fuck yeah.” The feel of the air was too familiar, too bittersweet. The atmosphere of the night was too restrained, too heavy with the weight of what could come crashing down around them at any moment. They had evaded fate for years now. Had captured moments of intimacy; stolen looks, hours, and kisses in little glances of what was so close to being theirs. He needed her so much. Was so entrenched in his love for her that the hint this small haven, this period of stolen hours, could be taken away from him sent his urgency to catastrophic levels. This connection, feeling her beneath him, being allowed inside her…it was all too much. Tonight. And Christ, he needed to send her over that edge before he found his release. His body warred as he forced himself to pull out of her, ignoring the sharp gasp of complaint that tumbled through her lips. He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth, then slid down her body, lips caressing her sweat-laced skin until his mouth was level with her sopping pussy. Her scent flooding his senses. “Gabriel!” Her hips arched off the bed. “Stop torturing me!” “You first,” he growled, plunging his tongue into her. Jael slapped her palm across her mouth and arched back, a muffled scream tearing through her throat. He smiled against her skin, left hand lingering at her breasts to tug at her nipples; his other joining his avaricious mouth to caress her clit deferentially. “God, your taste drives me wild.” “Uhhhh…” His tongue delved deeper inside, his fingers massaging her nubbin as her body trembled around him. Thrust his erection against the mattress, desperately needing friction. “So good.” “Gabriel!” “You taste so good. My honey in the lion.” “Oh God. Ohmigod, ohmigod!” He gave her one last lick before pulling away and crawling back up her body, capturing her mouth with his as his cock teased her folds before thrusting again into her depths. Swallowed her whimper and muffled his own. His fingers massaging her clit still, quicker now. She grew tighter and wetter with each plunge. The slippery slide of his flesh from hers against the air that ached with the slaps of their sweaty bodies. A long shudder ran down his spine as he shoved off the immediacy of his orgasm. The hand between them pushing her closer to that edge. Watching as her eyes went bright, then finally she cried out and went over, sinking her teeth into his shoulder to stifle her scream of completion. That was it. Her body spasmed under his, clenching the life out of him. The feel of her biting into his skin was more erotic than he could ever have dreamt. And he couldn’t

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help himself— he was lost. His hips thrusting madly against hers as her pussy swallowed him whole. Her walls tightening around him, milking him for everything he had to give. As he came, he touched the heavens. Within his lion he found that ecstasy, drank it full until honey dribbled down his chin. Jael’s body open, welcome; her arms clutching him to her as she held him in his fall. Cradled there until he saw they were in her room again. Alone. The lights still out. Her chest heaving against his, her skin damp with sweat. Her eyes wide and looking at him in awe. The air around them was thick with the scent of their lovemaking. Her hands tunneled reverently through his hair, her lips caressing his brow as his eyes found hers. Found pools of reflected love shining back at him. Felt his heart expand until he didn’t know if he could take it. The power of what they had shared. Something manifested beyond himself. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The gorgeous creature in his arms was really his. Jael was really his. And for the first time, he truly understood that. Truly believed that he could be so lucky. That she would choose a wreck like him. Order or no Order, rule or no rule; there was no cosmic map in the eyes of actual love. Words on an aged page knew nothing of emotion. Knew nothing of the wealth that he felt for her. Knew nothing of the power of what they had just shared. God, she was really his. He felt it. She loved him. Really. Jael encouraged his head to her chest, his arms around her. Hugging her to him as the night settled around them. Still inside her, still clinging to that intimate connection. Listening to her heartbeat. Relishing in the power of such intimacy. “Jael,” he whispered into her hair. Words were there that she already knew, burned within him. Needing to find release. He would tell her every day—every time he could. Whenever he could. For the rest of their lives, however long. “I love you.” Her eyes flooded with tears. “You do?” “God, yes.” He pressed his lips to her throat, purring. “I love you so much, and I can’t take it anymore.” “Take it?” He raised his head, his eyes boring into hers. “I’m gonna claim you,” he growled. “Now. Tonight. Three hundred years is too long to wait.” Her heart soared with hope clouded with fear. She didn’t know whether it was more appropriate to be elated or terrified. “Gabe—” “I love you.” She felt his fangs pressed against her skin and a violent shudder shook her insides. “I’ve waited too long. I’ve been so stupid. No Order keeps me away from the woman I love.”

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“But—” Gabriel pulled away just slightly, his gaze finding hers again. “Do you love me?” “What?” “Tell me.” Was he seriously asking her this? “Yes.” Her arms tightened around him as the wealth of her feelings threatened to erupt completely. “I love you. I never stopped.” “Me, neither. And I’m gonna take you now.” “But Gabe—” “No buts. We’ll cross those bridges when we get to them, right? Now I just need you. Please, baby.” He pressed his brow to hers. “I can’t take it anymore. Being without you…living to see the holidays just to pretend that…I can’t do it. I won’t do it anymore. There’s nothing worse than this. I’d rather be mated and die tomorrow than go on like this.” Tears were scaling down her cheeks. “Me, too.” “You’re sure?” A smile crossed her face. This was Gabriel. He had his answer—the answer he wanted—and suddenly he was concerned that she was giving in simply because he had asked it of her. Her Gabriel. Hers now. Truly hers. “God, yes.” “I don’t ever want you to doubt—” Her fangs burst through her gums and she jerked him down to her, and sank her teeth into his throat. Gabriel moaned aloud, his hands going to her shoulders, holding her to him as she suckled at his blood. As she drew his essence into her. As she pulled back, Jael lapped at the wound she had opened, and murmured, “I claim thee as mine.” It was a strange, wondrous sensation. As though at that second, the fabric holding the universe together suddenly fit, and there were no more questions. There was no more

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doubt. There was nothing but this phenomenal sentiment of belonging. Her blood rejoiced, her body hummed in pleasure, and she was complete. One little phrase brought her the magnitude of the cosmos. All hints of pain residing within her body vanished. The wail of her torment cooed into a gentle purr, and the agony she had suffered for three centuries suddenly ceased to exist. She felt rather than heard Gabriel’s moan of surrender. His hands were on her, and she was against him. He began peppering kisses across her face. She tasted tears, but didn’t know who owned them. They were one. In that instant, they were one. Then he sighed, “Yours,” into her hair, and the fabric of her subsistence fastened together and held. She had just claimed him, and he had accepted. Gabriel was hers. He was all around her. Pressing kisses against her skin. She felt thoroughly enveloped in him. Felt his blood rush through her, melding into her own. And pleasure burst through her. His fangs were in her throat, his arms holding her to him, and heat spread through her veins. It was unlike anything she had ever felt. Any level of ecstasy she had ever experienced. A shrill gasp touched the air as her body exploded in rapture, and his tongue traced the bite mark he had given her, holding her to him in her fall. All this before the words were even whispered. “I claim thee as mine.” “Ohhhh…yours.” That was it. She was complete. There was only Gabriel, and the birth of this sacred union between them. Linked to him now in a bond that flooded her being with strength and love. Filled the holes in her heart and made the rest of her burst into exultation. “Gabriel…” “Mine,” he growled again. “God, Jael…” “Yours.” Tears stung her eyes. She had spent so much time over the years crying. Crying for loss, crying for life, crying for death, crying for everything that had been taken away. Crying for the existence Gabriel had resurrected within her, and taken away all over again. She was home now. In his arms. His blood in her blood, tied together by forces beyond imagination. Tied with words of promise, but held with love. One little phrase. Even when he had told her, she had never imagined it possible.

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It didn’t matter now. Nothing did. She would not fear the punishment of the Order. They could conquer nations if they wanted. Gabriel had not only given her new life; he had given her all of himself. Releasing a trembling breath, he brushed a tender kiss across her forehead and rolled them to their sides. Still within her, cradled in her wet warmth. As close as he could be. Needing this tonight. Needing her as long as the world would let him keep her. Some part of him knew that he could not fall asleep in her arms. Tonight was tonight; if they meant to keep it, if he meant to get away with this, if he meant to steal her for the hope of tomorrow, they had to leave now. Now, or soon. Before the effects of their union shifted through the Order, and they were taught the cruelty of expulsion. For a few minutes, though, he would cast petty concerns aside and simply hold her in the silence of a new night. All this on a glorious winter’s night. They would never again know loneliness. A new world. He would risk fire and brimstone to keep this. He would risk everything.\ This sanctuary. This bliss. This honey in the lion.

The End

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MORNING ALWAYS COMES K.F. McCue

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Chapter 1:

It was finally five o’clock, after what had seemed to be the slowest day, or rather week, in history. But the bonus? It was Friday, too. Hunter breathed a sigh of relief as she shut down her computer. All she wanted was to go home, curl up on her couch, watch sad movies, and cry all weekend. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do when your fiancé walked out the door with no explanation as to why? She had no choice but to accept the blame for it, although she wasn’t exactly sure what she’d done to chase this one away. Wasn’t it always the woman’s fault? Shrugging, she grabbed her purse as she gave a wave and a merry good-bye to her officemates. Her purposely rushed exit gave them no chance to ply her with unwanted questions about why she’d been down in the dumps all week. When no one spoke to her in the elevator, she was lulled into thinking she was safe. Eyes fastened toward her goal, she was relieved that the parking garage appeared empty, at least in her lane. Escape seemed to be hers, but then voices made her slow her steps. Yep, familiar voices were just ahead. Hunter glanced around hoping another escape route would magically appear, but none did, so with sluggish steps, she continued to her car. “There you are,” Mary called out when she spotted her. “We’ve been waiting for you.” All three of them were there, her best friends and sorority sisters from college. There was the planner, Mary, Lindsey, the peppy one, and Patty, the homespun one. They were the greatest friends she could ever want or need, always there and always knowing what Hunter didn’t want to admit to anyone, even to herself. Despite the fact that she wanted to be alone this weekend, part of her was grateful they cared enough to show up. “What’s up, guys?” Hunter forced a smile, as if everything was just fine in her little world of being thirty-five and still single. And that having a history of two fiancés, one live-in boyfriend, and so far, no marriage or children didn’t really bother her at all. The one voted most likely to succeed was a failure when it came to personal relationships, and she had to admit there wasn’t a great career to brag about either. She had a good job as a legal secretary that she enjoyed, and it paid the bills, but it wasn’t breaking her through the glass ceiling, either. “We’re throwing you a breakup party,” Lindsey said, with a big grin and a throwing out of her arms. She tossed her shoulder length blonde hair with all the flair she’d always shown. “No need for you to mope at home alone.” “Maybe I want to mope.”

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“Not allowed.” Mary countered. She took Hunter’s arm, pulling her toward a limousine that was waiting. “We plan on drinking a lot tonight. It’s on Charlie.” Her husband was a very patient man who indulged the majority of Mary’s ideas, probably for survival’s sake, but this time it was practical. They climbed into the back of the stretch Lincoln as the non-descript driver in his black suit opened and held the door for them. “First, we’re heading for dinner at a really nice restaurant, and then we figured we’d try out that new club…Jazzy Flowers or something.” Hunter relaxed as she leaned her back on the leather seat and watched the antics of her friends as they popped open a champagne bottle. Smiling, she decided that the company of her friends with their laughter and undying loyalty for her was much better company than the stack of DVDs waiting for her at home. Accepting an overflowing flute of the chilled wine, Hunter broke out into unaccustomed laughter as the lonely feelings subsided in the face of some old-fashioned fun. Several hours later, the alcoholic haze was making Hunter a bit more receptive to the garish décor of the Jazzy club. There wasn’t a classy thing in the joint. Round high top tables framing the dance floor and the mirrored walls only succeeded in making the flashing lights over the dance floor annoying. As they joked about their husbands, Hunter was trying to tune her friends out by letting her eyes wander over the other patrons. It was a typical bar scene. The usual couples out on dates, the single women trying to look like they weren’t on the make, and the men picking through those women mostly by the amount of alcohol they’d consumed. It was pretty much a desperate scene that left a sour taste in her mouth. Well, it did until a man walking through the entrance caught her eye. He was so tall that he towered over the other men as he made his way through the throng. His dark brown hair caressed his chiselled jaw with every step he took. Dressed in a tight, navy blue tshirt and worn blue jeans, he was a thoroughly yummy package that made Hunter lick her lips while she kept him in her sights. “Uh-oh,” Lindsey said in a loud conspiratorial whisper. “He’d better watch out. Hunter is on the prowl.” “Oh, girl, he’s hot,” Patty added with a sigh. “You should so go for it.” Hunter’s gaze swung back to her friends; astonished they’d even notice her momentary weakness. “Nope, not me. I’m going to be the old maid…oh, wait,” she snapped her fingers. “I am the old maid of the bunch.” It was a reality that she was going to have to face sooner or later. Time was slipping away and she needed to concentrate on the important things instead of waiting for a prince who didn’t exist. Unconscious of it, she sighed wistfully while she glanced back at the gorgeous man who was now sitting at the bar.

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“You’re chicken,” Mary declared. She waved her daiquiri in the air and looked to the other two for encouragement. They eagerly clanked their glasses together in a show of solidarity. “I dare you to go talk to him.” “No way.” Hunter held her hands up and shook her head. “There is no way I’m going to set myself up like that. I have suffered more than enough humiliation this week.” “I double dare you.” It was Lindsey, and she pulled Hunter’s glass from her clutching hand to set it down on the table with a thud. “Go on, girl, get him.” “I triple dare you,” Patty added. “Oh, please.” Hunter rolled her eyes. “Are we back at a junior high dance or something?” “Besides, you’re hot Hunter, the one all the boys wanted.” Lindsey reminded her with a serious nod. “There wasn’t a guy you couldn’t get if you wanted them.” “Keeping them is the hard part.” “Who’s telling you to keep him?” Mary said, leaning a little closer. “Or even to get to know him? Go talk to the hunk, wrap him around that pretty little finger of yours, and then drop him.” “Meanie,” Patty teased. “But you have been triple dared, Hunter. It would be a disgrace to all of your sorority sisters if you didn’t take us up on it.” “Oh, whatever,” Hunter retorted, with a roll of her eyes. It would be tempting though to see if the old high school magic that had made her so popular was still there. Then she couldn’t really think of a reason why she shouldn’t give it a shot. It was just for fun, after all. “I give. I’ll go talk to him.” Taking a deep breath, she stood, telling herself that all she needed to do was say hello and she’d met the dare. A part of her hoped there would be more, but she refused to listen. Her heart was tired and sore. The last thing she wanted to do was break it even more. So it was just for the tease, to see if he found her attractive. She kept her eyes on him as she moved through the crowd, past the dance floor, around the tables, and she started when he looked up to meet her eyes. Her feet faltered as she looked back at her friends. They were waving her on, and so she turned her eyes back to him. This time they stayed linked together until she was beside him. “Hi, my name is Hunter,” she croaked out. She did remember to hold her hand out even though her mouth and mind were shutting down. “Hey there, name is Shane.”

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He wrapped his hand around hers to shake it, but Hunter felt the tingling all the way down to her toes. She was so totally lost.

Chapter 2:

The door slammed shut behind them, and Hunter was backed into it. Her hands were buried in Shane’s thick hair, damp from the snow, while his hands seemed to be everywhere on her body at once. It felt good. Oh, so good. She pushed everything but these delicious sensations from her mind. Something ripped as he yanked her blouse from the waistband of her skirt. It didn’t matter because his hand was underneath, skimming along bare flesh until he covered her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb. She moaned. “We need to move,” she muttered. “My legs are giving out.” “Won’t let you fall,” he murmured. He pulled her skirt over her hips, his hands cupping her bottom as he picked her up. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his hips, kicking her sensible pumps off along the way as he carried her down a darkened hallway. One-night stands weren’t her usual style. Shane had somehow found his way through her battered defenses, causing her to give in to her desire for him and all without the usual games that people played. It was also a good thing he lived down the block from the bar, because that meant she didn’t have any time to change her mind. Well, that and the romantic combination of the amazing kisses and the soft, fat snowflakes drifting to the ground around them ensured that she didn’t want to change her mind. Shane walked through a doorway. Not that Hunter was paying much attention to the surroundings. She was too busy nibbling along his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin under her tongue, and enjoying the feel of his strong hands on her hips. Then he bent over, laying her out on a large bed, and following her down. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, staring down at her in the pale light coming through the window behind them. “Not so bad yourself.” She cupped his face, pulling him down She loved the way his tongue teased along her own with a possessiveness that made her feel wanted. He held her close as he gave her just that. He was caressing her thighs, skimming along the inside, then upwards to the waistband of her pantyhose. “May I?”

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His finger dipped under the elastic, tickling her abdomen, and she drew in her breath sharply. He smiled at her reaction, and she relaxed, lying back with her arms over her head. She wasn’t going to argue if he wanted to take her clothes off. “Yes,” she added so he was sure that she wasn’t playing games. Shane was catlike as he moved to hands and knees beside her on the bed. He peeled back her hose in a fluid motion without tearing them. She was impressed. With a playful push, he rolled her onto her stomach so he could undo her skirt. She giggled as he nipped her waistline when he pulled the zipper down. Without waiting to be asked, she rose to her knees so the material would easily slide over her hips. Shane wrapped his arms around her, then fell dramatically backwards. She laughed as she kicked her skirt onto the floor. She felt safe wrapped in his strong arms, especially because he was being so playful. He acted as if he wanted her to be included in the fun. It was rare that she could just let herself go, especially in bed, and she was finding she liked this about Shane. He didn’t seem to have a predetermined roadmap to sex. Instead, it was a slow scenic route that left her at a slow burn. She wiggled like she wanted to get away, getting only as far as falling beside him on the bed. He pounced, rolling her again so that she was pinned faced down on the bed. “Where do you think you’re going to?” Shane growled, hooking a leg over her lower back as he held her hands in a firm grasp. “You’re nearly naked.” “That’s not fair.” Hunter gasped around her laughter. She raised her hips and then squealed when he smacked her bottom. “Hey, no rough play.” She threw her weight to the left, rolled away from him, and then held him back with her foot on his stomach. “Come on. Show me some skin.” “Oooh, a demanding woman. I think I like it.” “Yeah, yeah,” she teased. “Quit delaying.” Shane glanced away with a telltale sign of embarrassment on his cheeks. It was endearing, and she almost told him to forget it when he stood up. He turned his back to her and swayed his hips while he slowly peeled his shirt from his body. His tanned and muscular back made her want to run her hands over it, but she stayed put. He wasn’t done with his show. He turned around, smiled and threw the shirt at her after twirling it in the air. She whooped, and caught it. “Come on, baby…let’s go.” She drank in all of him with eager eyes. He truly was a beautiful man, with only a sprinkling of dark hairs dusting his chest and leading down to his trim waist before disappearing into his jeans. She couldn’t wait. Hunter sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. She looked up at him before she leaned over to kiss his stomach while her hands were running along his hips down his thighs, then around

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to cup his ass. His intake of breath along with his hands in her hair only encouraged her to continue to explore him with her mouth. “God, woman…what are you doing to me?” She reached for the button of his jeans. “What do you want me to do to you?” “Whatever the hell you want,” he said, as she pulled the zipper down to free him from the confines of his jeans. Somehow, together they were back on the bed. All the playfulness gone as they lost themselves to the power of the need between them. They bumped noses or missed each other’s directions on the way to the joining of their bodies, but neither let it get in the way. When he was finally buried in the heat of her body, they froze, forehead to forehead, as they accepted the reverence of the moment. For the first time in her life, Hunter claimed the woman within in all her primitive need, and gave back to Shane all the fire he’d set ablaze in her soul. She wrapped her legs around him as he took her with a fierceness that left her quivering with desire. They climbed together and he made sure that she climaxed before he allowed himself the luxury. Afterwards he held her, and asked her to stay for a little while longer…and she did.

Chapter 3:

Shane usually didn’t allow a woman to stay long in his bed. The sooner they were gone after the deed, the better he liked it. Not yet sure why he’d let this one stay, he turned his head to look at the woman next to him. Hunter lay curled into his side. Her hand rested on his stomach and her cheek was on his chest, so that every breath she exhaled caressed his skin with its warmth. She felt good, almost too good. He forced himself to remember why she was there. He’d been horny and she was sexy as hell. When he’d first walked into the club, she’d captured his attention with her beauty. Lush red hair cascading down her back, full lips laughing at something one of her friends had said, and legs bared by her short skirt riding up as she crossed them. For a moment, he’d indulged in a fantasy of taking her, but pushed it away as he made his way to the bar. He just wanted a drink before continuing home for the night. It was all he wanted until he realized he’d caught her attention. She put on quite the pleasurable show when she stood up, hips swaying to the techno beat, her eyes fixated on him, and her hair sparkling under the lights flashing around them. Nothing stopped her advance, not the dancers on the floor, or the men who tried to capture a second of her life. The lady clearly wanted him, and that knowledge raced

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straight to his nether regions. He waited for her to make the move. After all, she was the one who’d started the game, and he was a gentleman. She’d faltered; and sudden uncertainty filled her expression as she quickly glanced back at her friends. Oh, she wanted him, but she wasn’t certain about taking him. He met her eyes, helping her to finish her journey to him. Her hello held a nervous edge. Her invitation to buy him a drink was rushed out in one breath as if she was no longer certain about what she was doing or if she’d already changed her mind. It was that sudden shyness that made him say yes, surprising even him. Her relief was evident when she exhaled the breath she was holding. They fumbled through the casual conversation that new acquaintances always held. It was just enough so he knew what she did for a living, and her age. And she knew that he was a carpenter, and two years younger than she was. Two drinks later, he asked her to accompany him down the street to his apartment. She hesitated for only a brief moment before nodding her head. By the time they reached the exit, her body was already molded to his with her arm around his waist. Now, like an innocent child she was sleeping in his bed. It was a mistake. He should have fucked the hell out of her, before pushing her out the door and into the night. His ex-wife had taught him that no one was innocent, when after twelve years of being together she’d casually announced her love for another man. Shane was a fool to believe in, or to care about, this woman in his bed. For a moment, he considered waking her up and telling her it was time to go. He didn’t count on the soft sigh falling from lips bruised by his kisses and the slight squirming that brought her center in closer contact with his hip. Desire flooded him. He wanted her again, and eased her onto her back. Hunter flashed a mysterious smile, and he wondered who she was dreaming about, pushing away the hope that it was him. It couldn’t be. He didn’t want it to be him. Then she called his name, softer than any whisper floating on the wind, but it was a punch to his gut, and he couldn’t find his breath. Shane reminded himself that this was just a woman to relieve his baser instincts, not a relationship, not someone he should care about, but his heart gave an extra beat anyway. Refusing to answer that call, he concentrated on the one from his dick; it was strong, and very hard. Shane found it wasn’t difficult to switch to that demand. Hunter lay there, sprawled on her back, so open, and he placed a kiss on the curve of her breast. His hand drifted down her waist to hold her hip. She didn’t wake, or maybe she was pretending to be asleep. He didn’t mind. His lips were making a trail down her belly, before he pushed back his comforter. It wasn’t enough to uncover her completely, but enough so that his ultimate target was bared for his kisses. Crawling between Hunter’s taut, tan, and oh so long legs, he edged one to the side so that she was open for him.

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Lowering his head, he ran his tongue flat from bottom to top, hesitating long enough to swirl the tip around her clitoris. Hunter moaned, her hips arching up to seek more. Taking it as her acceptance, he gave her his complete attention. She was womanly; the clean and spicy taste lingered in his mouth. Her fingers found their way to the back of his head, diving into his hair. She tugged, and he knew she was wide-awake at this point. He wanted her to feel this, to enjoy what he could do for her, before he took her again. Hunter didn’t seem to be shy as she wiggled her hips beneath him, silently directing him to what turned her on the most. He liked that, so he followed her lead, loving it when she called his name out when she came. There was a smile on his face as he moved to cover her, and there was one on her face to welcome him. “You are a man of remarkable talents.” She moved her hands to his shoulders, pushing him over, but she followed, kneeling over him while she fumbled in the nightstand drawer. “There is another one in here, isn’t there? Or I’m going to be really embarrassed.” “Yeah, they’re in there,” Shane caressed her thighs cradled over his hips, while he waited for her to find the condom. Hunter came back with a triumphant grin, waving the small packet. “Found one.” Staring into her sweet face, he held her hips to help direct her as she impaled herself on his length. Her walls surrounding him sent jolts of passion all the way through him, and he thrust upwards, deeper into her molten heat. Hunter threw her head back in response, strong thighs squeezing his hips as she rode him. He cupped her breasts, teasing the pert nipples with his thumbs. She mewled, pushing them further into his touch, while she wrapped her hands around his wrists. “You’re good,” he whispered, squeezing the soft mounds before moving on to her hips. The tension was building, winding through his middle and escalating. Hunter seemed to sense his approaching climax, shifting to grind down on him. “Feels wonderful.” “I want it to be good for you.” Hunter’s comment surprised him. Most of the one-night stands he indulged in were in it for what he could give them, a mutual satisfaction to get the job done without any real caring of the other person’s needs. He reached between them to stroke her so that she could come before him. Finally, he rolled them over so that he was in control again. She didn’t seem to mind as she held him tight. “Oh, Hunter, damn…damn,” he muttered as he reached his climax. “My thoughts exactly.” She ran her hands along his back, easing her feet down to the bed. She giggled. The joyous sound tickled him. It was a rarity in his recently devoidof fun life, but he liked it. Lying beside her, he kept an arm over her middle. His thumb

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idly caressed the small pooch of her lower belly. They faced each other on the pillow, drinking in the face of the other. “I’m relieved that I found such a good guy to hit on tonight.” “So, you’ve hit on and ended up with not so nice guys before?” “Haven’t we all?” “Well, personally I’ve hit on a few not nice women, but men aren’t my usual style.” She giggled. “Sorry about that.” She paused, bit her lower lip, and he braced himself for the question. “You involved with anyone now?” “Divorced. Six months. A month in this apartment.” The truth as bold as he could say it without explaining all the maudlin crap that haunted his every waking moment. Moving out of his friend’s place and into this apartment was the first step in taking back his life on his terms. “And you?” She fluttered her lashes to mask the hurt that was so easy to see even without the benefit of looking into her eyes. “I was engaged and then a week ago, he dumped me. No explanation except that he didn’t think it was a good idea.” “A bit cruel.” Shane gave a sardonic laugh. It wasn’t any worse than what his wife had done to him. She simply said that she’d fallen in love with someone else. He shook his head. “I don’t understand some people.” “You never can,” Hunter agreed. She covered his hand with her own. “Any kids?” Shane rolled onto his back as the familiar pain filled him whenever he thought of the little girl who’d cried the day he’d left. Neither one of them could understand why they had to be separated. “Yeah, a nine-year-old girl, Alicia. I’ve been with her since the moment she was born, and now I get her on weekends and holidays. About the only good thing I can say about my ex right now is that she isn’t using Alicia as a pawn in this whole thing, and she’s pretty reasonable about letting us spend time together.” “Well, damn, another reason to like you,” Hunter said. “A man who wants to spend time with his kid.” “Ooh, you sound jaded.” Shane playfully chucked her under the chin. “Something to do with your child?” He was curious if this beauty had any maternal instincts or if she were one of those women who thought a baby would ruin her figure. “No, I don’t have any children.” Hunter tucked both her hands under her cheek. “I’ve always wanted to have some, but the opportunity hasn’t arisen.” “So, where does the bitterness come from?”

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“My father.” It was a subject between two people getting to know each other. Not something to share with someone he was planning to let go shortly. Hunter seemed willing to let it drop, but something made him prompt her to explain. “He wasn’t close to you?” “No, left my mom and me and never looked back. The checks arrived on the fifteenth and thirtieth of every month, but rare visits. Finally I stopped caring if he showed up for our weekends or not.” She blinked a few times so he wouldn’t see how much it hurt her to think about it. “Is the bathroom in there?” She pointed to a door on the side of the room. “Yeah.” Shane watched her get out of his bed, unaffected by her nudity as she left. He covered his face with his hand. He felt like a dolt. She’d been dumped a week ago, and then he’d made her talk about her father not caring. Oh, she was a trooper, not crying about her problems on his shoulder, but he shouldn’t have pushed her to talk about it. He heard the door open and opened his eyes as he saw her hesitate. “I should probably get out of here.” She wasn’t looking at him. Taking a few steps, she bent over to pick up her skirt. “Don’t want to wear out my welcome.” “Is your car at the club?” “Uh, actually, no.” Hunter looked as if she’d just remembered and her mind was trying to process how she was going to get back to it. “I’ll call a cab.” “Hey, it’s almost four in the morning,” Shane said, holding his hand out. “Why don’t you just stay here? We’ll get a few hours of sleep and then I’ll take you to your car.” “I don’t want to be a bother,” she said, ignoring the hand that he’d dropped back to the covers. “Isn’t that one of the rules of these things? Don’t overstep your welcome.” It was true. He should just get out of bed, throw some jeans on while she got dressed then walk her out to the taxi. Mumble something about a good time, and that would be the end of it. Except he didn’t want it to happen that way. He liked who Hunter was, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted just yet, but he knew that he didn’t want her to disappear from his life. “Yeah, but I’m not one for rules.” Hunter was still standing at the end of his bed with her clothes clutched in her arms. He could see the fear in her eyes. She didn’t want to get hurt again, and frankly he felt the

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same. Their eyes met, and finally she smiled. She put the clothes down on the chair in the corner before returning to bed. “Never liked rules either,” she murmured, slipping between the covers and into his arms. “Thanks, Shane.” She yawned. He kissed her forehead. “I’m just hoping to get lucky again before you leave.” “Men.” She pinched his side, and then kissed the injured flesh. “It doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though.”

Chapter 4:

Hunter wasn’t sure how long she’d been awake, or if she’d even slept at all. Being in this man’s arms while he slept was one of the better experiences of her life. However, she wasn’t able to explain why. He was just a man. Not even her type. She liked men who were comfortable with the white-collar world she inhabited. The few men she’d been attracted to before who worked with their hands hadn’t lasted long. Guilt for letting her friend’s snobbery chase them away tickled at her subconscious. Not only theirs but hers as well. If she even gave Shane a chance, it would be the same thing all over. She shouldn’t have stayed. It was only prolonging the awkward good-bye they needed to say. Shane shifted beside her, his work roughened hand moving over the softness of her belly, and she smiled. He certainly knew how to touch a woman. There weren’t any regrets about being with him. Knowing that it wasn’t going anywhere made her secondguess her decision. She sighed. “You’re thinking too much,” Shane mumbled against her breast. “Relax.” “Eavesdropper.” He shifted so that his head was resting in his hand. “Kind of hard not to with all the vibes you’re sending out.” “And now you’re psychic, too?” Hunter was trying to find a reason not to like him. Not that he deserved for her to snap at him, and the hurt look in his eyes told her she’d gone too far. “Hey, I’m sorry. It’s been a long time…” He gently covered her mouth with his hand to stop her ensuing ramble. “Don’t. Okay? Like I said, quit thinking so hard or trying to reason with yourself. It’s what it is.” Before he took his hand away, he traced her lips with his forefinger. Smiling, he let it drop onto the bed between them. It made her want to snuggle down into his bed and never leave. But he’d said it himself, it was only a fling, a chance to scratch their itches, and their hearts shouldn’t be involved at all.

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“Yeah, you’re right.” Hunter threw the covers back. It was more than time to leave, and return to the reality of her life. She needed to call her friends. Let them know she was still alive, and hadn’t fallen in with a serial killer or anything. It was Saturday, so it was errand day, the grocery store, put gas in the car, stop by the drug store to pick up her prescriptions. “Don’t worry…” “You’ll call a taxi,” Shane finished. He rolled out of bed, grabbing his jeans, and she stopped to watch him shimmy into them. Damn it, he was as sexy getting dressed as he was getting out of them. He left the button undone, as he gave her a pissed off look before he stomped out of the bedroom. It seemed there was nothing left to say. Hunter left her pantyhose off, as she got dressed with a heavy heart. For the first time she took in the room where she’d spent the night. It wasn’t anything spectacular, not designer worthy, but it was nice. Comfortable would be the word she would use. Furniture made of sturdy dark wood, a few landscape paintings hung on the wall, and at her feet was a rug with red accents swirling through it. Unlike her ex-fiancé, the man had taste, she decided, adding to his appeal, and she wondered what would have happened if they’d met under more normal circumstances. Moving toward the door, she took one last look around before moving down the hallway. There was the sound of cabinets slamming in what she supposed was the kitchen. It was coming from the front of the apartment so it had to be. She picked up her shoes on the way to the living room. There was an open door right before the main room, and unashamed, she took the opportunity to snoop. Tears filled her eyes with an unexpected wish for things she’d never had, and she knew Shane’s little girl really was one of the lucky ones. The room was painted pink with a rose patterned border along the top of the walls. There was white wicker furniture for his daughter to use when she visited. She didn’t live here permanently, but he’d taken the time to create a haven for her when she was there. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she hurried out to the kitchen. Hunter sat at the table, slipping her shoes on her feet, before she looked at Shane. He was leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. She hid a smile when she saw that he was glowering. Standing, she gave into impulse, cupping his cheeks in her hands before she leaned forward to kiss him. “You are an amazing man, and your ex-wife was crazy to let you go.” “If I’m such a great catch, why are you hurrying off?” Shane pulled her against his body. Hands on her bottom to hold her in place. “I want you to stay.” “You’re the one who said it,” Hunter replied, putting her arms around his neck. She twirled his hair around her fingers. “It’s what it is.” “What is it?”

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“A one night stand.” She sighed, trying to step back, but he wouldn’t let her leave. “Shane, I like you, but come on, these things are impossible to turn into anything more.” “Have you ever tried?” She shook her head. “Well, then it seems we’ve both tried to do it the proper way, with the courtship, the engagements, and me, I even got married, and it didn’t do anything but bomb. So, why not give this a chance?” It was silly, but he was making sense. If she was honest, she didn’t want to leave, not yet anyway. “I’m on the rebound and so are you. One of us is going to end up hurt.” “Hurting anyway.” “Stop,” she demanded. “Are you going to counter everything I say?” “Yes.” Shane lowered his head to kiss her again. He did that slow seduction of her mouth that she found so erotic, lips teasing hers, before he finally slipped his tongue inside. Hunter just hung on as he proved how good it felt between them, but even though they couldn’t build a relationship on the physical, logics, and social standing hadn’t worked either. She leaned closer to his body. “Ask me,” she whispered. “Will you stay and see where this goes?” “Yes, I will.” He gave a delighted laugh that started in his belly and burst out like music to her ears. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her over to his couch and plopped down with her on his lap. “So, Hunter you got a last name?” She giggled, throwing herself back, knowing he wouldn’t let her fall. He followed her down as if he was afraid she would disappear. She wasn’t going to go anywhere, not this time, and she knew that no matter what happened, there would be no regrets. The End

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PEACETIME Denny S. Bryce

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Part 1: He heard a gunshot and then a scream. It wasn't a demon. No high-pitched howl or gutwrenching bark, or the desperate self-induced roar that made his throat hurt. This was human and it was a death wail. He fell to his knees in the wet snow and pointed his weapon at the darkness in front of him. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and listened. Footsteps in the slush zigzagged from the shrubbery to a hill of snow-covered rocks before disappearing behind an embankment. He tilted his head, eyes still closed, and tracked the steps in his mind. They moved over the icy ground in a wide circular pattern. He counted two steps right, one slide left and fired. He opened his eyes as the blast of light from his taser illuminated the path in front of him. For an instant, he could see the beast clearly and could tell that he'd hit it square in the chest. Good, he thought, and then remembered there was more than one. He aimed at the other spot where he'd heard footsteps. But before he could pull back the trigger, a shot blasted through the branches above his head and ricocheted off one of the rocks nearby. Splintered pieces of bark and clumps of snow fell from the trees onto his back. He slammed his body flat against the frozen earth and thought about crawling toward the cave on the other side of the embankment. Suddenly another taser blast brightened the night's sky and he could make out a figure ahead of him. He saw her standing next to a pile of neatly stacked stones, and wedged between a tall drift of ice-coated mud. She was shaking her head as if reading his mind and making a small don't move gesture with her hand. The next sound he heard came from behind as something large and hard hit him in the back. A second passed. Then he felt the bullet rip into his flesh and tear through his body. He winced and fought the urge to collapse as he shifted all of his demon energy toward her. Calling upon the powers his mother had given him, he could see her face clearly in the darkness. He stared at her as the next shot blared. A melancholy smile moved across her lips and her eyes opened wide. He could sense she was searching for him. She was seeking his eyes in the fading light of the taser’s beam. As he watched her body slump to the earth, he saw her last thoughts etched across her face. She had known she was dead before she hit the ground. ~

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A sea of white pebbles lay before him, glimmering in the moonlight. He moistened his lips with a flick of his tongue as the salt-flavored wind pounded him, deepening the lines in his brow. He could feel his feet sinking beneath the sand, anchoring him to the beach. “Matt!” He recognized the voice calling to him from the other side of the front door of his two-room flat. Luckily, he didn't need to bother getting out of his narrow lump-fest of a bed. She'd let herself in just like she always did. “Matt, come on. I know you're in there. Get your scrawny ass out of bed and let me in.” A half-hearted chuckle escaped his throat as he pictured her yanking the knapsack from her back and muttering about his numerous shortcomings. She'd shove her long fingers into the bag, searching for the keys, then, she'd dump the contents of the bag on the floor and drop to her knees, cursing him vehemently as she rummaged wildly through the tangled mess in front of her. As he listened to her grumbling about the nerve of his stubborn ass refusing to open the door, he snickered at the irony of the situation. How many times had he told her to put the keys in the small zippered pouch on the left side of the bag? But Sonia Michelle Johnson always ignored his advice. He adjusted his body in the bed and listened to her ranting. A few seconds later, he could tell she’d found the keys and was gathering the items from the floor, cramming them back into her bag. Scratching at his head while yawning loudly, Matt visualized her movements in his mind. She’d load the fifty pounds of ammo into the sack first and then shove in a pair of jeans and a couple of t-shirts, and, hopefully, her black lace bra. He loved black lace against her skin. Next, she'd take her Luger and Mira taser from her weapons belt and place them in a side compartment. She didn't bring guns into his apartment holstered. Probably didn't want to deal with the temptation of blowing his brains out if she got too pissed, he reasoned. But she was duty-bound to have her weapons on her person at all times. So she always kept them near. Besides, what demon hunter in 2045 survived without her guns? Matt was particularly smitten with her 1945 Luger. She'd had it restored and equipped with platinum bullets that tore an impressive gap in the chest of a Mira demon. Matt lusted after that weapon. It would be his favorite if he were that heartless. But he was Mirachi, a half-breed. Unlike pure humans, he had to go for the clean kill when taking the life of a Mira demon. “Jeez, you sure do know how to make a mess of shit.” He flinched at the sound of Sonia’s voice. He then heard the door slam and her footsteps stomping into his small apartment. He pulled the bed linens over his head and began counting backward from ten.

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“You are the stupidest Mirachi on Earth. What made you think this was going to work, huh? Jesus freaking Christ, Matt. You make me so mad I could spit.” Aw…sweet love, he hadn't even reached five. A twinge in his stomach reminded him how fitting it was that they'd found each other. They were the perfect couple in a world where perfection was no longer possible. Tucking the sheets snugly beneath his slender hips, Matthew Sirk stretched his aching limbs into a full body yawn and hugged the iron rails of his bedpost. His toes curled and his feet dangled over the sides of the bed as he ignored the huffy sounds coming from Sonia in the other room. She was poking around in the mini-kitchen, mini-living room that comprised the other half of his two-room apartment. She hadn't ventured into the bedroom yet. Another definite sign she was not pleased with him. He raised his head to see if he could see her rustling about, but instead he saw his feet sticking from beneath the sheets and stared at them curiously. If he was taller, he could stretch from one end of a full-sized bed to the other. Six-feet, five inches tall, he calculated. That would be all it would take. Pure Mira were that tall. He scooted his five foot ten inch frame toward the center of the extra-long narrow bed. He could kill the Mira looking them in the eye if he was taller. He'd prefer to face them eye-to-eye out of respect anyway. Make their deaths honorable, since the Mira being killed by one of its own was a disgrace worse than death, especially if that it was a halfbreed. Matt had seen the look of shame in more eyes than he cared to remember. He struggled with the sheets for a moment and tried to cover his toes. His mental foray into Mira killings was not going to help him relax, he decided. Better to blame his father's human blood for his lack of Mira height and his outwardly human appearance. Shoulder length wavy blond hair, deep blue eyes, an angled face with razor sharp cheekbones and a regal nose, his mother used to say. A delightfully human baby boy, she'd smile and pull on his face with her long fingers and kiss his cheeks playfully. Yeah, he blamed his father for his human traits and let it go at that. His eyelids drooped as he allowed himself to slip back into sleep. Within seconds, he was floating on a warm sea. Then he heard the sound of a woman clearing her throat. He peeked through his lashes at the brown-skinned girl standing at the foot of his bed. Sonia stood with her arms crossed over her flat stomach, the fullness of her round breasts emphasized by her tight black turtleneck sweater. Her long wavy kohl-colored hair was pulled into a ponytail that sat high on her uncovered head. Matt didn't need to see her feet to know she was wearing regulation calf-high battle gear with the bottoms of her black stretch jeans tucked snugly into the bootlegs. This accentuated the roundness of her hips, which were always a curvy delight to his eyes. “Don't you have anything to say for yourself?” demanded Sonia.

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He was surprised she could squeeze so many words through such tightly clenched teeth. “Yeah, I do,” replied Matt. “Didn't I tell you to put the keys in the small zippered-pocket on the left side of your bag?” She rolled her eyes and stuck out her oh-so-human and luscious tongue. Matt groaned. His desire for Sonia centered in his groin and he patted the bed invitingly. He kept his head bent down as he looked up and smiled into her eyes, giving her the full effect of his lusty blues and long dark lashes. He then curled his mouth into his sexiest grin. He should've known she'd barely look at him. He moaned in appreciation of her backside, as she turned and marched out of room, muttering about pussy-crazed Mirachi. He had to admit she looked fucking sensational when she was pissed. He held back a smile and squirmed under the sheets slightly, not wanting to let her in on his arousal. Ladies didn't respect a half-human, half-Mira male who was too eager or too easily diverted from a good fight by thoughts of mindless sex. Matt needed a little time to get his dick and his mind under control. He closed his eyes. He must have fallen asleep because suddenly Sonia was standing at the end of his bed again. He sensed her more than saw her, for he'd barely opened his eyes. He had angled his head so that he could gaze at her while pretending to be asleep. It felt a little wrong watching her watch him, but he couldn't help himself. He enjoyed seeing her features soften and her full lips curling into a playful pout as her eyes smiled at him. For a few seconds, she didn't look like a soldier in an inhumane war or the lonely girlfriend of a half-breed time traveler. She was a woman who loved her man. He wondered why it felt as if she loved him best when he didn't see her being in love with him. The thoughts that wormed their way into his head irritated him endlessly and he didn’t like that at all. He also didn’t like thinking about Sonia as someone already lost to him. He opened his eyes, exasperated with his own little game and watched sadly, as her expression changed. The love was still in her eyes; but so was disappointment and, of course, anger. He sighed, realizing he couldn't do anything to change that look even if he wanted to. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t have to, because from her appearance she was feeling at home finally. She'd pulled off her black turtleneck, leaving on her classic white sleeveless tee. She’d also taken off her boots and wasn't looming as large over him as she'd been before.

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Matt blew out a mouthful of air and slowly pulled the sheet from his body, exposing his bare chest and a hint of the dark curls covering his groin. Sonia had told him countless times that she loved his body. Maybe an eyeful would put her in a better frame of mind. He’d already failed once that morning at seduction. Perhaps, a second attempt would prove golden. He looked up at her hopefully. Sonia's eyebrows curved into a terse frown. “That will not work,” she stated flatly, and immediately changed the subject. “Have you eaten today?” “Still in bed, sweetheart.” He raised his own indignant brow, confidently stressing how little he enjoyed stating the obvious. It was Sunday morning and barely 7 a.m. She should've figured he hadn't been out of bed since she'd left him the night before. Then Sonia was suddenly out of sight again. He could hear her rooting around in the other room. A drawer screeched open then slammed shut and the icebox crackled as she flung it open. Indeed, it sounded as if she'd pulled the damned thing off its hinges. “Why would you do this again now? Why would you think this is the right thing to do considering you barely made it back from your last mission?” She had walked to the archway to shout at him. Her hands clung fiercely to her hips. She looked as if she needed something to hang on to, something to keep her from balling her hands into fists and punching him in the face, he imagined. Then suddenly, his mind flashed to the image of another woman and his senses reeled. He could smell Kimi’s cinnamon tea brewing and hear her swallowing her tears as she had stood in the same spot as Sonia. How in God’s name had Sonia, without a hint or a warning, so vividly reminded him of Kimi? Sonia with her defiant stance and barely contained anger had ruled as the thick-skinned master of self-control. Kimi had bled tears of frustration and disappointment. With a slight shudder, he wondered if he should accept the possibility that what made all of the women in his life so angry with him was him. “Sarcasm and stubbornness are the root of your faults, my darling boy.” His mother had told him that when he was 15 years old. “Women will want you for your looks, but will shun you for your temperament.” Matt cringed as he surveyed Sonia’s wrinkled brow and tight lips. He should have learned by now that his mother was most likely right about him. Still for Matt to think, even idly, of Kimi as he looked at Sonia all pissed off because she believed her boyfriend was about to get himself killed, wasn't fair to either one of them. And he knew it. They were two completely different women in almost every way, but the same in every other. Both were humans and had become professional demon hunters by the time they'd turned eighteen years old. The masterful Lieutenant Colonel Artemis Preston Wells, III, trained both in the quintessential art of ferocity. And they were both magnificent at their jobs. Artie had made certain of that.

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Matt had to give Artie credit even if thinking about him and Kimi in the same ten second span made his chest hurt. The two warriors had gotten together so quickly after Matt had broken it off with Kimi it had left him in a stupor. His oldest best friend and fellow comrade and his winsome ‘A’ class warrior girlfriend had become a couple overnight. It hadn’t lasted long, but every day they’d been together had plagued his soul. He sat up abruptly in the bed and tried to catch his breath. Damn! It aggravated him that he could still be affected by the old frustration. Matt pulled his knees into his chest, focused on the warmth of his own body, and bade himself to calm down. Here he was, Lieutenant Matthew Sirk, twenty-eight Earth years old and one of only two Mirachi in the western hemisphere. He and his former buddy Artie, the other halfhuman, half-Mira creature on the continent, had aligned with humans and Mira traitors against the Mira conquerors of Earth to end their barbaric tyranny. Matt couldn’t understand how he had allowed his feelings to be twisted by Artie and Kimi. He’d doubted he had any feelings left after his first trips through time. The first time he and Artie had entered the Chamber, they’d had such lofty goals. That idealistic state of mind made him cringe now. But he still remembered that first time they’d stepped into the Chamber and traveled back in time. That mission had been simple; a test to make certain he'd survive the trip and return after the mission was accomplished. It had been the most exhilarating experience he'd ever had. His soul had soared during those few displaced moments in time when he'd had the power to change the world. He stared at the end of his bed, at the empty space where Sonia had stood only seconds before and Kimi had leaned against the wall and cried years earlier. Kimi's small hands, almost childlike, had rested lightly on her hips as the tears flowed from her eyes, drenching her cheeks and chin. She didn't clutch at her hips like Sonia. She didn't need to hang on to anything, she'd said, not even to him. He remembered how Kimi's small breasts had heaved as she sobbed. Her little mounds didn't poke through a t-shirt like Sonia's swollen cleavage. Sonia's curves consumed his senses from every angle. Not that Kimi hadn't done her share of damage to his sexual psyche—truth was she'd done a hell of lot. But he shoved that thought away. “Come here, sweetheart,” he cooed to Sonia. “Don't be mad.” He grinned as he watched her smooth her ponytail slowly with her hands. "Did you find me something to eat? You know I hate canned seaweed steaks and codfish.” She didn't move or answer. There wasn't a hint of a reaction on her face. She stood staring at him as he looked at her. He felt as if she was waiting for him to open his mouth and say the most wrong thing possible. That way she could get back to the argument he knew she needed to have. She wasn't going to let him go without a fight. The loud ring of the telephone startled them both.

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Sonia rushed to the phone that sat on the nightstand and pulled the receiver to her ear. “Yeah,” she paused, listening intently to the voice on the other end of the line. Matt hadn't even bothered to reach for the phone. It never rang until she arrived. He already knew who was on the other end anyway. The arrogant self-righteous bastard hadn't talked to him in weeks. He was just checking in on his precious Sonia. She replaced the phone on the receiver and walked back into the kitchen. Matt pulled the white sheets up to his neck. “Think I wouldn't find out what you've done?” she shouted from the other room. He didn't need to answer her yet. Let her get the worst of it out of her system before he jumped into the fire. “We've been together for what?” She was pacing back and forth, disappearing and reappearing as she traveled from one side of the archway to the other. “Three years. Three fucking years, Matt, and you weren't going to tell me!” “Because I don't have to, darling,” He raised his voice so she knew he meant what he was saying. “You are not the boss of me.” That shut her up. Good, he thought, and instantly wished he could simply tell her the truth instead of saying meaningless smart-ass phrases that just pissed her off more. ~ The stars twirled and twinkled overhead as he lay on his back in the sand, staring up into the moonlit sky. He was searching for his favorite constellation. He'd memorized all of them a century before. Or was it yesterday? He couldn't remember. He only knew that one of them was his favorite. Matt pushed the bed sheets completely off his naked body, crossed his legs in front of him and placed his hands on his knees. Sonia was still pacing, arms flapping and chest heaving. He followed her with his eyes as she stomped past the small wooden dining table, his only two chairs and his threadbare sofa. Her mouth was clamped shut and her face set in a fierce scowl as she glared at him. “You know, I love you, babe. But I'm damn well going to do this.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, placed his feet on the floor, and stood up. He had to make her understand that this was what he had to do. He needed to be near her to talk to her, to touch her. Two long strides and he was at her side, standing so close to her he could feel her warm breath on his lips. She stepped backward.

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“You'll die, Matt.” Sonia leaned away from him and rested her hands on the table, apparently to brace herself. “How many of these damn missions can a Mirachi handle? You nearly didn't make it back last time.” He raised his hand and moved the ponytail from her shoulder. She inhaled sharply as he bent forward and touched his lips to her throat. "Matt," she sighed as her jean-covered leg pressed against his naked thigh. He took his other hand and pushed aside the strap of the black bra beneath her t-shirt. She was panting, her breaths coming in short, soft gasps as he slid his lips across her collarbone. He reversed his path and returned his mouth to the side of her neck, caressing it with his tongue. “I'll be back, love. Promise,” he whispered into her ear. “Goddamn Mirachi!” Sonia hissed, then jerked away from him and flopped into the nearest chair. “Is that all you think you have to do? Give me a few kisses. Show me your cock, and I'll forget that I'm angry?” Glancing down at his erection, he smiled. “Well, sweetheart, it's worked in the past.” She rubbed a hand over her throat as if she was shielding it from his touch. Her lips trembled and he saw a few tears welling in her large brown eyes. She wasn't going to cry, though. She never cried in the classic sense. Matt had never seen tears flowing down her face. Wet eyes were as close as he'd ever seen her to actual crying. She was a warrior, and warriors didn't bawl like babies, she'd told him. He watched her as she pushed her sorrow aside, one unshed teardrop at a time. He'd hurt her. Not because of his badly timed lust for her body. It was always his lack of desire to comfort her soul that frustrated her. They both knew he wasn't going to change his plans. He was incapable of doing that. Not even for Sonia. She pounded her fist on the table and shook her head. Matt remained silent as he watched her. “Don't do this,” she whispered. She wasn't begging. That would be very unlike his Sonia. She knew as much about the Chamber and its risks as he did. She also knew that eventually one of his or Artie's missions might be the last fix, the one change in the past that prevented the Mira war and altered their lives forever.

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There were times Matt had wished Artie hadn't told them, Sonia or Kimi, about the Chamber. He longed for the days when Sonia hadn't known his secret. There was a time when, all he had to do was show up and she'd be jumping up and down on his dick, grinding him into oblivion in no time. Afterward, they'd go their separate ways, each with a job to do. When had that easy, uncomplicated relationship changed? Oh yeah, Matt rubbed his tongue over his front teeth. That's right. Everything changed when he'd told her that he loved her. “Who was on the phone?” He asked even though he knew the answer, but he thought he might as well see how long it took her to admit it. She stared at her hands. “It was Artemis, wasn't it?” Matt spat impatiently. Then he turned and stalked back into the bedroom. He hadn’t even given her time to look him in the eye. And why? She wasn’t going to admit it was Artemis. That's why. The bastard was always fucking with Matt's life. No way should Matt have to worry about what his Lieutenant Colonel had to say to his girlfriend. But Artie never just let Matt be. He lived to pry. Matt felt the anger rushing into his gut and all thoughts of reason flying from his head. Artemis had told her about the mission. Damn his Mirachi ass. Matt's eyes scanned his bedroom anxiously. For a conversation like this one, he needed his pants. Spotting the black jeans in a corner, he snatched them off the floor, stepped into them one furious leg at a time and yanked them up over his hips, careful to avoid his surprisingly still erect cock. “Don't act like you didn't know it was him,” said Sonia. “It's always him,” he growled, turning to face her. She'd followed him into the bedroom. "Artemis just wanted to make certain I got here okay." "Bullshit! You're a hunter. A Lieutenant in the army of Earth, a noted killer of pure Mira." Matt snorted. "Don't need checking up on. Especially not by the likes of that ass." "Do not turn this into an argument about Artemis. This is about you not telling me that you accepted another mission." "In three years, how many times, Sonia?" He demanded. "How many?" "A dozen.” “What's that?” He leaned forward, cupping his ear. “A dozen missions, you say? In three years?” He gestured mockingly, raising both hands toward the ceiling.

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Well, that really pissed her off, he thought as he watched her hands curl into tight fists. Although he didn’t think she was going to hit him. At least not in the face. That wasn't her style. She'd slug him in the chest and then follow it up with a roundhouse kick to the gut. If Sonia was going to get you, she was going to get you good where no one could tell you'd been got but you and her. "Right. Twelve fucking times in three years and each time, we didn't know if you'd make it back." She was shouting. This was not supposed to be fight day. He felt like kicking her out of his flat. He didn't want to fight. Just rest. Get some sleep. Wake up and fuck. Make love. What fuckingever. But most of all, Matt didn't want to talk about the mission. Period. He was going to kick Artemis' ass for telling Sonia about it. As soon as he could get out of the apartment, he was going to find the bastard and kick his cocky ass. “Sonia, look,” he began as he reached out to her. "Artemis had no right to tell you about this.” He grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her struggling body firmly against his own. “It was for me to tell.” Then they both jumped. It was the phone ringing again. Loudly. This time Matt reached it first. “You fucking snake. What the hell do you want now?” Abruptly, Matt stopped talking, and tried to mask the expression on his face. Didn't want Sonia to make more of it than necessary. “Hey, Kimi,” he said quietly. “Yeah, she's right here.” He passed the phone to Sonia. He heard a small voice, whispering from the waves that lapped around his feet. He was going to miss the sea. Then he wondered if those were his words or hers.

Part 2:

"Kimi wants to see you." Sonia had placed the phone back in its cradle after saying okay about seven times in a row. Then she had pushed past Matt, bumping into him hard as she hurried out of the bedroom. For a moment, he thought she was seriously looking to move their argument from a verbal tussle to a boxing match, the way she'd shoved him. He didn't call her on it

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though, or follow her out of the room to prove him right or wrong. He just stood, unmoving, staring at the telephone on the table next to his bed. What the hell did Kimi want? Matt felt his leg muscles bunch into knots. It hadn't been Sonia blistering by him that had frozen him to the spot in the middle of his bedroom. It was her words that had nailed him to the floor. Matt couldn't believe what he'd heard. Kimi didn't ask to see him. Ever. “I said Kimi wants to see you.” Sonia shouted from the other room. “Fuck it all to hell,” he cursed. Sonia wasn't Kimi's yes girl. It had never been Sonia's style to be accommodating to Kimi. They'd been competitors since birth. Both praised for their skills in battle and for their prowess in fucking up the lives of the men they supposedly loved, which he knew wasn't true even as he thought it. But nonetheless, a string of yes, Kimi’s wasn't like Sonia at all. Matt couldn't stop staring at the telephone. He heard Sonia in the other room drag a chair across the linoleum square in the kitchen. Then there was a crash and he jumped. She must have lifted the chair off the floor and slammed it down, breaking it into pieces. For such a lithe frame, she was deceptively strong. He wondered if he should duck. Might as well protect his back from the flurry of broken chair parts he expected to be thrown in his direction. But instead of wood chips, she was hurling a string of profanities at him. An aggravated Sonia enjoyed making noise. But Matt wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of turning around to face her. No matter how loud she got. Besides, he had too many thoughts bouncing around in his head and most of them were about Kimi. When he'd returned to the Chamber after his last mission, the usual suspects–Artemis and Sonia–had been sitting on the circular sofa in Artemis' oversized living room, waiting. The Lieutenant Colonel's home was an old movie studio he'd turned into a gigantic loft. It was 40,000 square feet and two floors of house that Matt had teasingly called Artie's World when they'd still been friends. The first level was an apartment—two bedrooms, a full-sized kitchen and bathroom with a sunken tub, a workout area, and a huge circular sofa centering the space. Artie had stolen every piece of furniture and appliance he could find from abandoned buildings in the barren leftover wasteland once called Los Angeles. Artie had always been resourceful, and a good thief, ever since they were kids. The loft was located in a part of town that had been known as Culver City, and on the second floor was the Chamber. That's where Matt always came back—dropped from

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the ceiling like a wet dishcloth through the time warp above the ancient symbol of Mira that Artemis had painted on the floor years before. After his last mission, Matt had landed at the apex of the symbol, which was shaped like the Great Nebula in Orion, he'd once told Artemis, soaking wet and covered with sand. He'd ranted for hours about stars, beaches and the sea, according to Sonia. But most of all, he’d talked about Kimi. He swore to Artie and Sonia that no matter what they believed, Kimi was dead. She died in the past, someplace back in time and had sacrificed her life to save him. When Kimi had walked into the Chamber a few moments later, he'd collapsed to the ground, weeping. Sonia had rushed to his side and whispered in his ear. "This is not a dream, this is real." She then took his hand and said, softly. "She is here. I am here, and we all love you." Or some shit like that. He shuddered as he tried to recall the particulars as he stared at the telephone weakly. "What?" Matt said as he finally turned away from the nightstand and walked out of the bedroom into the kitchen. "She says she wants to see you." Sonia's voice was even. She was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, her elbows resting on the table, her head in her hands. "Since when?" "Since just now, okay?" She looked up at him, tears glistening in her brown eyes. ~ She opened his shirt slowly and placed her hands on his chest, massaging his muscles. Then she slid her hands down to his stomach, her warm fingers tracing a familiar pattern over his torso. Matt kept his eyes on the brightening sky. Orion had a way of tricking him. Sometimes he'd barely make it back to the cave before sunrise. But he could see her reflection in the horizon. She looked amazing at dawn. Her hands felt like satin and ocean waves pushing against his heart. He wanted to see her in the daylight, but he knew the rules. He was only allowed to see her in the stars. “Why is it that all we do is fight and fuck, Sonia?” He sat on the kitchen chair facing away from the table. His cock was fat, hard and pointing to the ceiling. Sonia slid onto him as he grimaced, his breathing mirroring hers, becoming fast and shallow as she settled her weight down on him. Reaching her arms around his neck, Sonia brushed her breasts across his face. “Do you feel me?” she whispered and squeezed his cock with her inner muscles. “Do you feel this?” she breathed.

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He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but instead he pushed into her and sucked a dark nipple into his mouth. It tasted salty and sweet, like sugarcane and lemons, or how he'd imagined them tasting. She was slowly riding up and down on his cock, gripping it with all her strength every centimeter of the way. He moaned from the intense pleasure as he throbbed in the tight fit of her cunt. Sonia wasn't Kimi, thought Matt as he buried himself deeper inside her body. Sonia didn't back away from ecstasy. She demanded it, and he loved that his body could respond to her needs. He scooted toward the edge of the chair. Not too far, but far enough to free his hips so he could thrust up to meet her downward push. Then he sucked her other breast into his mouth, using his lips to tug her nipple into a sharp peak. “Oh, Matt. God, yes...that feels so good. ” Sonia was straddling his cock as if she believed the myths about the Mirachi's anatomy. As her ponytail smacked him across the face, stinging his cheeks, he started to believe the legends himself. She felt good. Almost too good, he grunted as she pounded her sex down on him. Spreading his palms across her ass, he stood up, holding her securely as he lifted her into his arms. He spun around, placing her on her back on top of the table with his cock still buried inside her. God, he loved making Sonia's body tighten around him—holding on to him as if he was life itself. She never held back. Matt kissed her everywhere his lips could reach—her eyes, her neck, her breasts as he slammed into her. "Oh Sonia. God, girl. Fuck me." Her juices covered his thighs as he hugged her hips closer to him. “I love you, Matt.” She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head up so she could look at him. Then she grunted his name again and wrapped her legs higher around his back, giving him the angle of penetration he worshipped. With each stroke, he pushed so deeply inside her; he could feel her inner walls like a blanket surrounding him. He wanted her to feel his body's desperation for her as strongly as he felt her desire for him. He'd never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Sonia. Her love, even her anger, was all he could think about. All he wanted to think about as he pounded into her. Sonia whimpered. Then she made a low growling sound and he knew the orgasm was taking her. She was so beautiful. Her lips trembled and her black eyes danced with passion as she searched his face in wonder. The love in that look made him shudder. Matt took his hand, moved the damp hair from her forehead and cheeks, and caressed her skin lovingly. Then he pulled Sonia's hips firmly against his own and dragged her body to the edge of the table without breaking their connection. Only her shoulders lay

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on the hard surface, her arms stretched wide as she held onto the table with her fingertips. “Sonia, I don't want to come yet. Please." She didn't say a word as his stomach muscles tightened, announcing his approaching release. He closed his eyes for just a second to gather himself. He then took his thumb and pressed it against her clit. Her legs tightened around his back as if she was trying to keep him still. It wasn't going to work. He couldn't change his rhythm. Not now. But he still needed her to have another orgasm. He concentrated on that goal. As his own desire mounted, he rubbed her swollen clit slowly, then faster as he fucked her with long steady strokes. He felt her body begin to convulse and he pulled her ass roughly to him as she flung her arms around his neck. He then grabbed her waist and lifted her completely off the table. Matt came shouting Sonia's name and silently thanked God she was his. “Baby, I love you," he whispered as his head collapsed onto her bare chest and he held her in his arms. ~ The waves were higher and crept further and further up onto the beach before rushing back into the ocean, soaking his feet as he stood looking out into the fog. It was dawn but the sun hadn't come. It was hidden behind the mist and rain. He welcomed the chill and the high tide. It meant she could stay with him a little longer. He sighed as her arms circled his chest and he felt her breasts press against his back. He missed being with her like this. But he had to keep his eyes on the horizon. He opened his eyes and saw the moonlight shining through the slit of a window above the bed as a shadow danced over the bare skin of Sonia's naked back. His dream had left him, floating in a silent sea. It had been a good dream, hot and wet, cool and dry, and he minded. He didn't fight waking, though. Too much light in the small bedroom and dawn was approaching. He glanced over at the naked huntress lying face down next to him. They'd been in bed all day and all night. They'd stopped arguing and made love, then argued some more and made love again. He groaned as he looked at her body sprawled across the bed. Sonia hated sheets, or anything touching her skin while she slept. Panties, black jeans, which could be his or hers, t-shirts, her black-laced bra and the sheets were all tossed onto the bedroom floor, a twisted heap for him to trip over. Matt was lying on his side, elbow bent, his head resting in his hand, watching her breathe. He took his fingertips and stirred the tiny beads of perspiration gathering in the valley of her spine. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he licked his fingers and sighed, savoring her warm, salty taste.

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It was time for him to get up and leave. He heard a bird chirping. Yeah, that still happened even in the cold barren land that was now southern California. He placed his hand on her back above her heart and listened to the easy cadence of her breathing. He closed his eyes, already missing the life beating into his palm. Slipping out of the bed, Matt grabbed his jeans from the top of the pile of clothes and checked to make certain he had the right pair. Didn't want to end up accidentally wearing his girl's pants, even if he could fit them. He found his t-shirt at the bottom of the stack and pulled it over his head. Quickly, he ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing his long, thick strands. Then he crept out of the room without making a sound, thanks to his Mirachi heritage. Sometimes, he could be so quiet it was as if he'd never been there. Almost. Glancing over his shoulder, he tilted his head and a small noise caught in his throat. He was thinking how beautiful Sonia looked. But she always looked beautiful to him. His eyes lingered on her naked body, sprawled face down in the bed, a dark mass of wavy hair covering her shoulders, as he stepped into his jeans. He then grabbed his boots and pulled them onto his feet. She wouldn't know he was gone until she woke up. And she wouldn't wake up for quite some time. That was good. He didn't want to see the anguished look in her eyes. He didn't want that look be the last thing he saw as he walked out the door. "Well, that's it," he whispered. Matt's jacket was draped over the back of the chair in the kitchen. Not the one they'd made love in earlier that night, but the other chair. He picked the leather coat up, raised it over his head and slid his arms into the sleeves. He was dressed. Really didn't have much more to do. Didn't need anything else, except for his knapsack, weapons belt, ammo and his taser. He then spotted Sonia's Luger on the kitchen counter and hastily shoved it into the inside breast pocket of his jacket before walking to the closet, pulling out his bag, and filling it with his gear. He still had one more stop to make before heading to the Chamber. He took a last look at the living room and kitchen. As he walked out of his apartment, he didn't look back. He closed the door softly behind him. ~ Crouching in a corner, his arms hugging his knees, he was whimpering. The door opened and she was standing in front of him, dressed in tight red leather pants and a flimsy white tunic adorned with glittery stones that sparkled as she moved.

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Her long hair, no longer too blond, was pulled into a tight high ponytail, similar to Sonia's hairstyle. Her cheeks looked flushed, a hot, blotchy pink color, and her eyes were too shiny. But that might be his imagination, figured Matt. He hadn't seen her, or been alone in the same room with Kimi since…well, it had been a long time since he'd been alone with Kimi. “Come in, Matthew,” she said, moving aside to let him pass. Without hesitation, he walked into her apartment. It was larger than his, as it should be, he decided as he stood in the middle of a dimly lit hallway. A row of tiny candles burned on a long table placed in front of an old-fashioned floor-to-ceiling mirror. He couldn't help but give a quick glance at his reflection, at least to check on his hair. He guessed he looked the same as the last time she'd seen him. Kimi gestured for him to move into the living room. He could feel her eyes on his back. Hopefully, his swagger hadn't abandoned him, he thought as he strolled down the hallway. He plopped onto the sofa and opened his jacket with both hands before sitting wide-legged, an elbow planted on either knee. “Thanks for stopping by.” She'd taken a seat in an overstuffed comfy chair opposite the sofa. “No problem, Kimi,” he answered. “How can I help you?” “Don't go on the mission,” she said flatly. To his ears, it sounded as if she was giving him an order. “No longer do your bidding, Kimi.” “Neither you nor Artemis will ever be able to prevent what happened, Matthew.” Kimi stood up and walked to the fireplace behind the sofa. “Mirachi are so damned stubborn and such arrogant fools.” “Won't argue with you about Artemis,” Matt grinned. “That bastard is a fool.” “And you're not?” He had to look up to see her face. “She'll still die, Matthew.” He felt himself leap from the sofa as he covered the distance between them in two long strides. “Shut up, you fucking ghost,” he ordered, grabbing her by the shoulders. “I'm not a ghost.”

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“You're not Kimi.” His voice was shaking as he dropped his hands to his side. The urge to hit her was strong. He should leave, turn and run out of her apartment before he went too far. “The Kimi I knew would never have betrayed us.” His words felt harsh as if he was bouncing them off her forehead. But he couldn’t stop himself. They fell out of his mouth like eggshells breaking apart as they crashed against the floor. Kimi and Matt had spent their youth training together, fighting side by side and loving each other as only first loves can. It had nearly destroyed him when Kimi repeated the lies about him and Artie. When it had become clear that the Chamber was going to work, there were humans who didn’t trust Mirachi. They believed that even though the half-breeds had fought by their side for years, the power of the Chamber might seduce them. It might change their hearts against their human heritage. “That Kimi would never have thought we could be traitors. She would have stood by us because …the Kimi I knew...believed in…us.” His stomach muscles were cramping and he felt ill. “That Kimi's dead, Matthew.” “Don't I know it…” “You know what I mean.” She touched his shoulder. “Three years. You and Artemis have used the Chamber to relive, remake, and repeat the past for three years. What have you fixed?” He pulled away from her, stepping toward the curtained windows that lined the living room walls. “Look at me,” demanded Kimi. “What have you fixed?” “Maybe nothing, maybe everything,” he answered. “But what is your fucking point?” She looked into his eyes now. “We all died a hundred million years ago or we died yesterday. Then again, maybe we'll die tomorrow. But you and Artemis are eternal...your perverted punishment for being Mirachi.” “And so?" Matt didn't like to be reminded of this part of his genetics. Being immortal wasn’t that big of a deal to a time traveler, or at least it wasn’t to him. “You can never save the world," she said. "Don't you understand? There will always be a time when the worst time is the only time you'll have.” “Why talk to me about this now? Why before this mission?” he challenged. “As you say, I could fight the Mira for a million years in a million worlds. But one of these trips, we’ll

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fix that one thing that will change everything. You know that. I know you do. In your soul. So, I don’t understand. Why now, in this time...why do you want me to stop fighting?” She stared at him, her body completely motionless. Her face blank. But he could see the choice she’d already made in her vacant eyes. She wasn't going to answer this question. Not this one. Matt rubbed his hands over his face. “We can't just stop because it hurts.” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. “You and Artemis can never die. But you'll watch the people you love surrender to death over and over again.” Her eyes were filled with tears as she searched his face. “You'll never find peace of mind. No matter how many times you go back and fight the beast in the snow.” “Oh, Kimi,” he reached out to her. “No,” she said, shrugging off his touch. "In this world, you love Sonia.” The cave was the only dark place on the island. Sometimes he'd have to crawl over the sand, his nostrils filled with fire, his mouth with bitter wind as he made his way to the stone archway, barely beating the raging storm chasing him from the beach.

Part 3:

He woke up early so he could watch the sunset before walking to the beach and waiting for the stars. But he was too tired. So, he curled his body into a ball, relaxed into the rocky ground, and fell asleep to dream about the silent sea. “Yeah, you're right, Kimi. In this world, I do love Sonia." He noticed how calm his voice sounded. “That's why this is the world I always come back to.” He hadn't known he'd say it. Not like that. He wasn't trying to hurt Kimi. He wasn't even angry with her, just tired of the missed opportunities and lost time. And that had nothing to do with her. That had to do with Sonia. Just Sonia. He could count on her, whether they were arguing, making up or fucking each other senseless. He could count on Sonia to be there when he got back, knocking on his door every morning after leaving his bed every night, or waiting in the hallway to curse him

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out for saying or doing something stupid. She was in this world, in every world, a part of them all, and she always stood by him, choosing him no matter what. She did more than believe in him. She fought for him. She saved him, each and every time, and Kimi needed to understand that. “Sonia came to help us,” his lips moved against Kimi's ear. “After Artemis beat down the first wave of Mira demons, she was there with a band of hunters.” Kimi tried to pull away from him, but he held onto her. “When she heard what had happened to Artemis, to both of us, she came as fast as she could.” He dropped his hands to his sides, but Kimi didn't attempt to turn away this time. “We were almost dead when she jumped into the battle, eyes blazing, guns firing, and a half-dozen armed hunters at her side.” Matt smiled as he recalled how Sonia had looked, black hair flying, her skin wet and dripping with sweat even in the cold. She'd dropped from the sky onto the top of a small hill, a few feet from his exhausted body, and looked like what his father had called an angel. Barely hanging on to consciousness, he'd stared at her in amazement as he lay on the ground covered in blood, his own as well as that of the Mira. “—Hey, you gonna help me kick some demon ass or fall over on your butt? Your call, half-breed. “ “Sonia gave that battle all she had,” Kimi said softly. “Shut up." Matt warned. "You don't get to tell this story, Kimi. You weren't there.” “Are you angry with me for not being there or for being here now?” Kimi asked, seemingly unfazed by his tone. Matthew hesitated, weighing carefully what he wanted to say. “No, not angry,” he lied. “Anger doesn't change anything.” Matt pushed his hands into his pockets as he moved to Kimi's side and looked past her into the fireplace. “Wasn't thinking about you when I marched into that gully. Neither was Artie. It was all about killing Mira demons. So I wasn't angry you weren't there. Just damn glad when Sonia showed up.” Matt let out a long sigh. He'd had enough catch up for one visit. The candles in the hallway on the long table were almost out. It was time for him to leave. “Look, we can pick this up again when I get back.”

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“Matthew, I need to know." She paused as if she needed to gather her courage. "When you and Artemis come out of the Chamber, do you ever think that it would be better if you didn't have to choose the world you came back to...if it was chosen for you?" He turned and walked down the hallway toward the front door. “Matthew,” Kimi had grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket. “Matthew!” “Yes, I can hear you." He didn't turn around. “It would stop this merry go-round if it was chosen for you. You could do it. Artie could make the adjustment and...” “Doesn't matter." he interrupted her. "Of course, it matters." "No, Kimi. What you want doesn't matter. It's our choice, me and Artie's and...I wouldn't have it any other way." Matt hesitated for an instant as he placed his hand on the doorknob. Did he owe her any other explanation? Maybe later, he thought as he walked out of Kimi's apartment without saying goodbye. ~ He was running to the beach, kicking the sand up with his heels, leaving long footprints in his wake. When he found her, she was standing in the water. She didn't turn around, just stood in the ocean, water brushing over her knees, her skirt pulled up around her hips, her thighs naked and glistening in the moonlight. He looked up at the sky and saw the stars dancing. He wasn't too late after all. As Matt raised his fist to knock, the front door to Artie's World swung open and he was facing Artemis Wells, III, who looked as grim as usual, he thought and pushed past him. "Hey, asshole, you ready?" said Matt. "I believe it's you that's the asshole," Artemis replied hurriedly. "Where've you been, Matthew? We should have left an hour ago." "Yeah, right," muttered Matt. Artemis always exaggerated. They had plenty of time before they were required to be in the Chamber. Still, that didn't explain why Artemis was practically jogging across the first level of his enormous loft. Matt jockeyed behind him, popping from Artemis' left shoulder to his right shoulder, trying to get around the hulk. But Artie's big body blocked him. Artemis definitely took his stature from his Mira blood, frowned Matt as the old jealousy about heritage and height crept into his head.

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He quickly gave up on getting past Artie and shuffled behind him across the room. Eventually, the big ox would get out of his way. "Not even glowing, let alone spurting electrical charges and micro blasts," Matt said, pointing to the carved ceiling on the second floor above the Chamber. Artie lumbered toward his office, which was located on the far side of the loft, beyond the living section and the L-shaped kitchen facing the west wall. Matthew hopped onto the circular sofa in the middle of the room and sank down into the cushions. He then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He only smoked around Artie. It pissed Artie off. So, he thought he might as well aggravate the Lieutenant Colonel’s senses while they waited for the Chamber. “Artemis!” he shouted, pulling his lighter from the inside breast pocket of his jacket. “Why'd you call my apartment earlier? You don’t need to check up on Sonia. You should know that by now.” They had enough time for him to ask this question. He wanted to see what Artie had to say for himself. They hadn't talked since the last mission, and if nothing else, Matt felt confident he could draw a response from Artemis. All he had to do was mention Sonia. Artie loved her as much as Matt did. But he loved her like a big brother. He’d practically raised her after rescuing her from a band of Mira who had killed her parents when she was six years old. Made her a fierce fighter and trained her as a huntress just like he’d trained Kimi. Hadn’t been Artie’s fault she’d fallen in love with Matt. However to Matt, it had been Artie’s fault that he’d fallen in love with Kimi. Matt inhaled deeply, pulling as much hot smoke into his lungs as possible. Then he lost his patience. “She's a demon hunter. You dumb ass.” The last part he said more to himself. Didn't want to go at Artie blatantly. Matt had had enough confrontations for one night. He tilted his head back on the sofa's cushions and closed his eyes, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “I won’t let anything happen to her, Artie,” he promised. “She's good when she's with me.” He suddenly opened his eyes and looked up to see the ceiling cracking into jagged pieces of light as the first micro blasts bounced out of the Chamber. “Hey, Artemis. You dumb prick.” Again, he only shouted the first part of his remarks and mumbled the insult. “The Chamber is starting to heat up.” Matt pushed himself to his feet, cigarette dangling from his lips. The shape of the electronic sparks from the Chamber reminded him of giant slug creatures, except these slugs didn't bury themselves in his flesh. They led him back in time. But more miraculous was that they had the ability to guide him home. Add to that, they allowed

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him to choose where he wanted to return. That had seemed like a blessing when he'd first started traveling through time. He could choose what time, what place, or what world. Artemis and his first sergeant, the late Charlie Whitaker, as they’d called the Mira traitor, had come up with the idea for the Chamber one quiet afternoon five years earlier. The two warriors had taken time off from Mira fighting and sat around chatting about a way to use the Mirachi’s unique abilities to stop the war. They talked to a few scientists, loyal to Earth's cause, and thought up the Chamber. Matt had always believed that Artie had more Mira genus in him than human instinct. He'd been right. "Artemis!" He shouted again. It was really time to go, and Artemis was dragging his feet. “You gonna answer me or what?” Matt strolled toward the rear of the loft and peeking around a corner, tried to see into Artemis’ office. But, the door was closed. Damn, he muttered. A few minutes earlier Artemis was busting his balls about being late and now the bastard wasn't responding. “Artemis,” he called again. “Answer me, damn you!” Matt charged toward Artemis' closed office door. “Artemis,” he shouted, and then something compelled him to turn around. He looked back up at the ceiling. Shit, he thought. Damn! The Chamber always had a way of fooling him. Artemis wasn't in the office. He was gone. Matt realized he'd left where he'd been and had arrived where the Chamber wanted him to be. If he’d bothered to consider the pattern, this part was always the same, never a warning, barely a clue. “Jesus Christ!” Matt yelled as he ran from Artie’s apartment. ~ There was this thing about the Chamber and traveling through time. Matt couldn't count on landing exactly where he needed to land at the exact moment he needed to land there. He and Artemis had figured that one out the first time they'd gone into the Chamber. On that fateful trip, Matt had learned about the duplicity of time travel. He and Artie had found themselves sprawled face down on a dirt road somewhere outside of a Los Angeles where the sun still shined and the world was warm. Lost, but determined to complete the mission, they almost didn't make it to the embankment in time to save Kimi. Yes, it had been her life that had made a difference that first trip. He grimaced as his body shivered from the memory. Now Matt was running as fast as he could toward the frozen desert. It was snowing, but not bitterly cold. He wiped the melting flakes from his eyes as he sprinted along the

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boulevard, searching for the rust-covered sign that pointed to exit 10. This would lead him to the abandoned highway and the battle in the snow. When he spotted the sign, Matt made a sharp right turn onto a long street, and picking up his pace, made a quick left onto a short narrow block. There he found himself on tundra covered with snow and mud and blood. Artemis was standing next to Charlie, the Mira traitor. All six-feet six inches of him swayed from side to side as he struggled to remain on his feet. Matt could tell he'd been injured. But as he stared at Charlie, a horde of Mira demons approached from the far end of the gully. Matt stepped into his place on the other side of Artie and steeled his mind for battle. “Time to die!” Artemis shouted, his eyes pinned on the Mira general leading the charge. These Mira were a gigantic breed with long twisting bodies, enormous heads and streaming blond hair flying in the frigid breeze. Artie blasted the first row with his taser, sending thick clouds of ash and smoke into the sky. Matt focused on the other group of Mira rushing toward their flank. “Murdering bastards!” he yelped. Matt jumped into the air and kicked the Mira closest to him in the throat, instantly knocking it on its ass. He quickly snatched up a club that had dropped from the creature's hand and, swinging it over his head, smashed in the skulls of the dozen demons staring blankly at their slain comrade. It was as if their heads were ripe pumpkins in a barrel. That was too easy, he growled, as he watched their bodies fall to the ground. But having no time to gloat, Matt dropped to one knee and whipped the legs from underneath another demon. It looked like a mutated eight-foot tall hedgehog, he thought. Clearly, this Mira was a mutant among his own mutated race. "Damn, you're ugly!" He shouted as he pulled its throat out. Matt propelled himself to the other side of the gully and grabbed the head of one of the Mira's surrounding Charlie. There were about fifty of them, he guessed as he took his club and started pounding. "Mira behind you, Charlie!" he shouted, catching a glimpse of an attacker sneaking up on the fighter's left. Whitaker spun, pulling a taser quickly from his belt buckle and zapped the demon in the chest. The roar of the dying Mira pierced the air. "Die, you devils!" shouted Charlie, still fending off the remaining Mira. But then his voice rose in a warning. “Watch out, Matthew!" He pointed as Matt ducked just in time beneath the clutches of one of the predators.

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In a warrior's haze, Matt drove his fists through Mira head after Mira head until he was standing alone with no more foes in sight. He looked around for Artemis. He hadn't seen him since he'd burned the row of soldiers. Then he spotted him at the other end of the gully, back against a wall of ice, knocking down a steady stream of demons. Artie was doing okay, he thought. Suddenly Matt was jerked sideways by a vicious blow to the head, bringing his attention back to his own war. He grabbed hold of his assailant’s throat, a Mira twice his size, and split its head open with his bare hands. Anxiously, he sought out Artemis again. He found him standing on top of the carcasses of a slew of demons, and pretty much killing everything he could reach. Matt sighed, relieved that he, Artie and Whitaker were still alive. But his relief vanished when he looked at the spot where he'd last seen Charlie. All that was left was a small hill of dead Mira bodies including Whitaker. It was just him and Artie now. That’s the way it usually went. He and Artie thrown into the middle of a battle they’d already fought or would fight forever. Then for the briefest instant, they'd be given the chance to change one aspect of the past to help save the future. They corrected a mistake and fixed that one wrong thing, except Matt knew that this mission was different. “Artie,” he shouted. “When?” “Soon, damn it!” Artie yelled back. "Just keep fighting, and don’t get killed!” Artie had promised him this chance. He'd adjusted the Chamber so that they'd be able to pick their spot. Matt understood their immortality might not hold up with the adjustment in the Chamber; Artie had explained that. But since he didn't seem too concerned, neither was Matt. Besides, Matt felt that Artie had wanted to make this mission happen as much as he did. They both understood what might go wrong, but they had to take the chance and try. Matt steadied himself for what he knew was about to come. A beast, all scales, horns, and ten-inch hooks for hands, reached out for him from the shrubs that suddenly appeared to his left. Matt parried, attempting to avoid its grasp, but the beast caught him around the chest. He screamed as it sliced open his stomach with its claws. Matt fell to the ice-covered ground in a heap. He was bleeding badly; indeed, the words stuck pig crossed his mind as he rolled on the ground, clutching his torn body. "Hey, you gonna help me kick some demon ass or lie on your butt and freeze?" Sonia Johnson jumped from behind a mound of snow-covered rocks and swaggered toward him in that sexy way he loved. He saw her lips pucker into a half-smile, half-smirk. He

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looked up at her and tried to answer, but his throat was so dry he couldn't even choke out a groan. He felt her kneel next to him and using her palms, wiped the blood and snow from his face. "Your call, Blondie." The sea swept over the shore, covering him with seaweed and dead fish and cracked shells. He was buried in the sand, screaming at the sky. He couldn't wait anymore. He had to make a decision. Make a choice. Then she touched him and sat down on a dry spot in the pebbles, and caressed his cheek gently with her palm. ~ Sonia's hair was matted with blood and bits of flesh, hers and that of the creatures she'd torn apart with her hands. Swinging her axe tirelessly, Sonia's back was pressed against his when he felt her body stiffen and the blast struck her in the chest. God, he needed to find Artie. It was about to begin again. “Matt?” Her voice sounded small and sad with a trace of a tear in its tone. "It's almost time." Matt heard Artie's voice shouting from his perch on a snowdrift where he was shooting holes in demons one after another as if he was playing old-fashioned pinball. "Get ready. Stay alert!" Matt was kneeling next to Sonia's body when he heard the gunshot and then a scream, signaling that it had begun. It was time to fix it. He touched the breast pocket of his jacket and felt the lump that was Sonia's Luger. Torn between what he wanted to do and what he'd actually done, his thoughts were slightly jumbled. He couldn't pinpoint the origin of the shot. So falling to his knees, he pulled his weapon from his coat pocket, squeezed his eyes shut and listened. He heard Artie's plodding footsteps sinking into the slush behind the bushes before they zigzagged from the dense shrubbery to a hill of snow-covered rocks. Then all of a sudden, the sound abruptly disappeared behind the embankment. Slowly, he lifted the Luger and aiming carefully, gauged the location of the target in his mind as he placed his finger on the trigger. He counted two skitters right, one slide left, and fired at whatever had been following Artie. He opened his eyes as the blast of light from a taser illuminated the path in front of him. For an instant, he got a glimpse of something clutching its body and he could tell that he'd hit it square in the chest. Good, he thought, and then he remembered there was

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something else in the gully. Matt tilted his head and mentally tracked a second set of leaden steps moving over the icy ground in a circular pattern near a row of dead trees to his left. Again, he aimed, but didn't have time to fire. A shot blasted through the branches above his head and ricocheted off one of the rocks nearby. Clumps of snow fell from the trees as he slammed his body flat against the frozen earth. Seconds later, another taser blast brightened the night, and Kimi emerged from behind the embankment. She stopped near a pile of neatly stacked stones, her body wedged between a drift of ice-coated mud. He thought about crawling toward her, somehow reaching her before the creature he hadn't killed slashed her into pieces. But it was as if she was reading his mind as she shook her head and made a small gesture with her hand that said Don't move. A blast came from behind him as something large and hard hit him in the back. The bullet ripped into his flesh. He stifled a cry but still pulled himself up onto his knees and took aim with the Luger. He had to focus his energy on Kimi. Using the power his mother had given him, he found her face in the dimming light and fired. He could see her features clearly as a melancholy smile moved across her lips. In the instant, before she fell to the ground, her eyes locked with his. He saw her thoughts as her body slumped to the earth. Kimi knew he had killed her, and she had been okay with that. "Kimi!" He heard Sonia scream from somewhere behind him. A moment later, he saw her running carelessly toward the embankment. She wasn't even trying to hide or find shelter as she ran unshielded toward her fallen comrade. She hadn’t even remembered being dead, thought Matt. "Get out of here." he cried, but his voice was a whisper. She hadn't heard him. But that didn't matter. She was okay, and that was what mattered. A Mira death wail broke through the sobbing and the noise of battle and Matt cringed as he recognized Artie's demon voice. If he could just gather enough strength, he could crawl to the cave and wait for the sun to rise. That cry was Artie's way of telling him he'd done all he could do and he was coming after Matt. "Sonia." He felt her arms suddenly around him as she hugged him close to her body. “Kimi's dead, but you're going to be okay,” she whispered, and he could hear a world's worth of tears in her words. ~

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He was wrapped in a blanket and lying on the circular sofa on the first level of Artie's apartment. He could smell the million year old dust, but it couldn't mask Sonia's fragrance as he inhaled deeply, taking her in. "Hey there. You're back," she said, her voice low and soft, her lips against his cheek. "Kept my promise, love," he whispered. Matt groaned as Sonia took something cool and wet and began to clean the gash in his stomach. It had taken him nearly two months to heal after the last mission. This time he wondered if it might take even longer before he'd agree to go back into the Chamber. Matt sat up suddenly, the pain ravaging through his body forgotten as he searched for Artemis. "Where's Artie?" "Here, Matt." He heard the deep voice, sullen and exhausted coming from someplace close. “Where's Kimi?” “She's not here, Matt.” Sonia answered. “Where is she?” “She's not here anymore,” Artemis said quietly as he appeared to emerge from the shadows in Matt's head. "What do you mean, not here?" "You know Matt," he said slowly. "We changed the past, and she's not here." "She's supposed to be here." Matt closed his eyes, and tried to figure out what Artie could mean. Kimi was always there, always in the world he chose to return to. How could she not be? Even if he’d killed her, she’d always been there. Then he remembered Kimi's face, her tear-filled eyes in her apartment, pleading with him to let the Chamber make the choice. And finally, there was her smile as she died in the snow. Matt's eyes flung open. "She knew everything Artie...she knew." "Shush," said Sonia, caressing his brow. "You'll just have to fix it next time."

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He was heading toward the cave. She'd be waiting for him, standing on the beach in the moonlight, pointing out Orion in the sky. As he slowly made his way across the sand, she'd turn and whisper, her words carried to him on the breeze. "This is the only place in time where you will ever find peace of mind." He shrugged and looked up at the stars and thought maybe she was right; maybe he'd never have to fix this time.

The End

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SNOW IN THE DESERT Felicity Heaton

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Stepping out of her cool car and into the fading heat of the evening, Katie tugged the over-filled grocery bags towards her and tried to figure out just how she was going to carry them to the house. She juggled them in her arms as she closed the car door with her foot and then bit back a squeal as the heavy brown paper bags tried to escape her grasp. Freezing to the spot, she hoped to freeze the motion of them along with her. She held her breath as she gave herself a few moments to slowly recover her grip on her groceries, shuffling the vegetables with careful jolting movements until they were stable again and then straightening up. Finding her balance, she heaved a sigh and began up the winding gravel path that led to her small suburban home. Out the corner of her eye, she noticed that the drive next to hers was empty, Billy’s old red mustang nowhere to be seen. She remembered him mentioning something to her the other day about having to work on Christmas Eve and then continued into the house. Placing one of her bags down on the porch, she smiled as she turned the key in the lock and pushed the front door open, revealing the highly decorated hallway and stairs. Stepping into the cool of the house, she let out another sigh, her thoughts turning to getting changed out of her waitress uniform and into something more relaxing. She ignored the pleading cries of her two cats, Jenkins and Toodles, as she walked straight into her kitchen, dumping the groceries on the counter and then heading upstairs to the bathroom. Untying her hair, she let the long brown locks fall down around her shoulders and ran her fingers through it, loosening it up further. Katie stared at herself in the mirror for a few moments, noting that she looked as tired as she felt, and then stepped over to the shower and switched it on. She slipped out of her clothes and waited for the water to warm up before stepping into the cubicle. Closing her eyes, she ducked her head under the water and let it run over her, soothing her body as it ached from the nine-hour shift she’d just completed—she hadn’t even meant to be working today. Last night she’d teased her next-door neighbour, Billy, about him working on Christmas Eve, and this morning karma had caused her boss to call her up and ask her to work in place of Janine, who was apparently sick. Katie didn’t believe that for one second. She knew that Janine had family from all over the country over for Christmas and that everyone at her work knew she herself had no family, or at least none that came to visit

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her. Every holiday she was always roped into working, her boss always guilt-tripping her into it because everyone else had family to spend the holidays with. She should have told him that she had plans, that she did have family coming over, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him. Stepping out of the shower, she dried herself off and silently swore that she wouldn’t work any more before the New Year—even if she had to completely ignore the phone in order to achieve that. Padding softly across the carpet to her bedroom, she rifled through her clothes and slipped into a pair of grey sweat pants and a black zip up sweater before putting on a thick pair of socks. She glanced out of the window as she tied her wet hair back into a French plait and smiled at the Christmas decorations that adorned the houses opposite hers. It was nice, but it was no New York. Since moving to the little town on the edge of the desert near Los Angeles late last year in order to pursue her non-existent acting career in the big city, she’d been happy eleven months out of twelve. She’d been happy every holiday except this one. Christmas in California was too different from what she was used to back in New York State. She was accustomed to white Christmases, ones full of her sisters and her parents, full of laughter and cheer. It had been a few years since her parents had passed on and her two sisters had moved abroad, and she’d spent a lonely Christmas or two in New York before moving. Somehow it felt as though by leaving the place where she’d made all her best memories she’d found someone who was like family to her, rather than finding herself alone like she’d thought she would. Billy. He’d been the only one on the block who had greeted her when she’d first arrived, and since then they’d grown as close to each other as a brother and sister. He’d never ceased to amaze her with how supportive he was of her career, more supportive than her sisters had ever been, and he’d been like that from the start. Walking down the stairs to the kitchen, she smiled to herself as she remembered how Billy had been there for her last Christmas—her first Christmas away from the place she’d grown up in. Not only had he gotten her a small speaking part as an extra in a movie that he was working as part of the production team, but he’d spent the whole of Christmas day and the holiday period rehearsing it with her. She’d been so nervous about her first part that she’d wanted to practice it until she knew it by heart and Billy hadn’t hesitated when she’d asked for his help.

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Since then, he’d been more helpful than her agent at getting her auditions, and she’d always smiled and given him a secretive wave when she’d seen him working in the effects department on the lot. They’d spent hours each night over the summer just sitting on the porch or in the garden and talking about the movies he was working on and the parts that were coming up that she could audition for. She hadn’t had anything other than a few extras parts since moving, but it was a start, and it was more than she could have hoped for while she was settling in. She smiled as her fluffy grey cat, Jenkins, wound himself around her legs, purring sweetly at her as she boiled the kettle. Bending over, she picked him up and set him down on the kitchen island next to her chocolate brown cat, Toodles, and stroked them idly before starting to unpack her groceries. Putting them all away, she kept a can of cat food out and watched as her cats rubbed against it, pawing it in the hopes that it would miraculously open for them. “Okay, okay, I get the hint.” she took hold of the can and opened it, leading the two cats to their bowls and sharing the contents between them. Hearing the kettle switch off, she took down her favourite blue mug and put several spoonfuls of hot chocolate powder into it before filling it with water. She stirred it as she stared out the window, listening to the gentle clink of the spoon against the ceramic of the mug. It was starting to get dark. She felt as though she still had a million things to do before tomorrow. It would be the first time she’d prepared a Christmas dinner and she wanted to get it right. She knew Billy wouldn’t care if she missed something, or overcooked anything, but she wanted it to be perfect—just like her Christmases used to be. Sighing to herself, she took up her mug of hot chocolate and walked from the kitchen to the living room. She couldn’t stop the smile that erupted on her lips as she flicked the switches on and the room was illuminated by the soft glow of the multi-coloured fairy lights on the Christmas tree. Looking at it, its boughs laden with decorations to the extent that she could barely see any green, she found herself remembering all the times she had helped her mother with the tree at their house. Ever since she was a little girl, she had always loved Christmas more than any other time of the year. There was something magical about it, something warm and inviting that made her feel as though there was nothing better than this holiday. She smiled as she remembered how her mother used to decorate the top of the tree while she decorated the branches she could reach, and how when they had covered it in baubles, lights and tinsel, her mother would lift her up and let her place the star on top of it.

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She really missed those times. Life seemed so simple when she was little, nothing to worry about and no having to work to make ends meet. All she had to do was sit back and enjoy the festivities and the long break from school. Settling down on the couch, she curled one hand around her mug as she sipped her drink and flicked the television on. She searched through the channels until she found a festive movie and curled up, relaxing against the soft cushions for the briefest of moments before spotting the unwrapped present sitting on the coffee table. Her eyes lingered on it for a second, tracing the outline of it idly as the smallest of smiles curled the corner of her lips. He’d love it. She felt sure about that. Sitting up straight, she cleared a space on the table and unrolled some of the glittering silver paper that was adorned with snowflakes. She pulled the small open box toward her and looked over the watch it contained. She’d had to save for almost a year to afford it, but it would be worth it just to see the smile on his face when he opened the present. She knew he would protest, would tell her that he couldn’t accept such an expensive gift from her, but she wasn’t going to back down—he would accept it whether he liked it or not. Since she had been the instrument in breaking his watch earlier in the year, she felt that it was her place to give him a replacement. Even though he’d said it was no problem, she knew how much it irked him not to have a watch, and how many times he’d got into trouble for being late on the lot. The watch was almost exactly the same as the one she’d broken in the garden but there were small differences. For a start, it was more expensive than his last one and had a lot more fancy functions that she didn’t understand. She was almost certain that Billy wouldn’t understand the point of them, either, but still, it was nice to give him something he’d appreciate. Closing the black velvet box, she placed it down in the middle of the paper and cut a few strips of tape, sticking them to the side of the table so they didn’t get tangled up. Folding the paper neatly over the box, she wrapped the present carefully, ensuring that each edge was crisp and each fold was done with perfection.

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Katie smiled as she turned it over, straightening it up on the table and looking at it approvingly. Sipping her hot chocolate, she picked up the little matching card and looked at it with a frown wrinkling her nose. She swallowed hard, her thoughts running a million miles an hour over what she could write inside the small rectangle of card she was staring at. Placing her mug down on the table and taking up the pen, she pressed the end of it thoughtfully against her mouth before going with just writing his name, ‘Merry Christmas’ and ‘Love, Katie’. She stuck it firmly to the silver wrapped box and then carried it over to the tree, setting it down underneath it and smiling as she imagined presenting it to him after their dinner tomorrow. Her stomach dropped slightly as she thought about that. She’d never cooked for Billy before, and it unnerved her a little that she had chosen the first time to be Christmas dinner. Anything and everything was likely to go wrong and she just hoped that if it did he’d see the humour in it. He was good at that. A smile touched her lips as she remembered the timbre of his laughter and the way his deep chocolate brown eyes lit up with it. It was always infectious, causing whatever embarrassment or anger she felt to disappear within seconds, even when she’d made a complete fool of herself. Walking back to the couch, she curled up on it, resting her head against the arm as she watched the black and white movie on the television. She reached her hand down as Toodles passed her, offering a soft meow as recognition of her presence and then starting to purr contentedly as it felt its owner’s fingers running through the long hair on its back. Katie let her eyes close for longer and longer periods as the length of her day at work began to take its toll on her and before she knew what was happening, she was fast asleep with a smile on her face.

When she awoke, the television was playing a different movie, one a lot less festive and a lot more violent. She frowned at it, waiting for her brain to become more alert and less sleep fogged as she tried to figure out what was going on. Glancing at the clock as she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, Katie blinked repeatedly when she saw it was telling her that it was gone ten o’clock, as though she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

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A persistent scratching noise roused her further and she let out a small moan as she remembered that she’d been holding her cats captive during their favoured evening hunting hours. Drowsily standing up, she ran her hands over her face and then smoothed down her clothes as she weaved through the furniture toward the back door. She frowned as she rounded the corner into the kitchen and found the cats weren’t there. Turning around, she looked down the hallway and saw they were scratching at the front door, both of them clearly desperate to get out into the night. “Okay…okay…” she mumbled as she walked toward them, trying to wake herself up as she did so. Fumbling with the locks and latches, she groggily opened the door up and watched the cats slink out onto the porch. She suppressed another sigh as she raised her head up and then froze to the spot as she saw something that had her wondering if she was still asleep and dreaming. Snow. It was snowing. Stepping out onto the porch, she frowned and inclined her head to one side as she regarded the strange scene in front of her. It was snowing in California. Looking up the street, she realized that the fact it was snowing wasn’t the only strange thing that was happening. Her next-door neighbours garden was still as green as it had been when she’d arrived home that afternoon, no sign of snow on it like her lawn had. She blinked sleepily as she looked at the inch of white powder that blanketed her front garden and then looked over the road at the houses there. No sign of snow. Starting to feel as though she was either going insane or she really was dreaming, Katie slipped into her house and put her trainers on before heading back outside to investigate—intent on finding the reason behind the localized snowstorm. All thought of discovering the reason this was happening rapidly left her as she stepped onto the fresh snow, hearing the familiar sound of it compacting underfoot—something akin to cotton wool being rubbed against itself.

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She took hesitant steps out to the centre of her garden and then smiled as she raised her face up to the falling snow and felt it settle on her skin, melting against her as it was unable to resist the warmth. Raising her hands up by her sides, she let her smile turn into a wide grin as she closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of being out in the snow once more. Slowly opening her eyes, she frowned curiously at the snow falling from above and let her gaze gradually follow it, noticing that it was like a fountain. She looked incredulous as her eyes followed the jet and came to rest on a machine parked in Billy’s front garden where his car should have been. Her eyes met his as he stood on the machine, holding something in his hand that was attached by a wire to it. “You!” she started and saw him smile as she giggled over what was going on. “You weren’t supposed to see this until morning,” he stated flatly, not bothering to explain what he was doing as he gave her a slightly reprimanding look. Unable to think of anything else to say, Katie went with what was at the forefront of her mind, “Why?” Billy chuckled slightly, his full lips curving into a smile that looked both amused and embarrassed at the same time. Katie took a step toward him and waited for his explanation, smiling all the while. “Remember last year?” he said with a shrug that had Katie figuring that it was the only explanation she was going to get. “I pulled in a few favours. It’s the real stuff…well, it’s little flakes of ice anyway. Just thought you’d like this for Christmas.” She tried to think of what she could have said that would have prompted him into doing such a thing for her. She could remember mentioning that Christmas wasn’t the same without snow, but she hadn’t expected him to go to the lengths it must have taken for him to borrow the machine from his work. It must have cost a fortune to get all the ice she could see stacked up beside the machine, not to mention the inch or so of crushed ice snow that already covered the grass. Feeling a little awed by the lengths he’d gone to in order to give her a Christmas present she would love, she found all she could do was smile up at him as he looked down at her, his lips still playing into the wide mischievous smile. Her chest felt warm and tight as she kept her eyes locked with his, her heart hitching in it as she thought that he’d given her the best present she’d had in her life without knowing it.

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Billy ran his fingers through his dark hair, pushing the loose tendrils of it out of his face and feeling unable to take his eyes away from Katie’s. He swallowed noisily as she stood there in the middle of the garden, neatly tied back hair and shoulders rapidly being covered in flecks of snow from the machine. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, the intensity of her smile and the weight of the silence that was engulfing them made his throat tight and he couldn’t find the words to break it. Katie drew her eyes away from his, her teeth teasing her lower lip as she smiled at the snow surrounding her. Bringing her eyes back to Billy, she broke the silence for him. “How much will there be?” she asked, her eyes twinkling at him like a small child’s as she thought about all the things she would be able to do with the snow he’d given her. “Enough for snow angels?” Billy couldn’t help smiling again as he looked down at the ice and then at her, “Enough for a snowman or two.” Katie grinned happily and then let it fade away as she thought about the present sitting under her tree, waiting for Billy. “Your present is going to look pretty shabby now…I’ll need to think of something better to give you.” Placing another large block of ice into the machine, Billy stepped down off it and let it run. He watched Katie as she bounced around her garden, laughing at her two cats as they gave the snow a disdainful look, clearly not as pleased to see it as their owner was. Stopping in the middle of her lawn, Katie looked straight at Billy with a serious expression. “Get your butt over that fence and come play.” Billy chuckled and did as instructed, unable to deny her request and happy that she was overjoyed by his present. As he reached her, he found himself dragged down onto the ground and stared at the snow falling against the backdrop of black sky before letting his head roll to one side and looking at her. Katie grinned at him as she spread her arms and legs, making a snow angel. She stopped when she caught his eye and felt warmth spread through her as she realized that for the first time since her parents passed on, she felt happy. Poking him in the arm, she gestured that he was being sorely deficient in the role of playmate and smiled as he rolled his eyes and began in earnest to make a snow angel of his own. Letting her head roll back, she just lay on her back and let the snow drift down onto her, her eyes picking out flakes to follow on their descent from the heavens.

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Billy found himself intently watching her profile as her eyes remained fixed on the falling snow. He frowned slightly as a sadness flitted across her features and then she smiled again. He wanted to ask her what was troubling her, wanted to chase away anything that was lingering and making her sad when she should be enjoying to the fullest what he’d given to her. Before he had time to say anything she was on her feet, hopping away from the angel she had created and then smiling broadly as he followed suit. Katie stood still for a moment as she looked down at the two angels, memories of her family, of her parents coming flooding back as she took in what felt like such a familiar scene. Raising her eyes up to the sky, she let her thoughts drift quietly with her parents for a moment before realizing that she was being watched. She brought her eyes down to meet Billy’s and offered him a slight smile as she saw the concern shining in his eyes. Taking hold of his hand for a second, she squeezed it a little, trying to show him that she was okay, and then grinned mischievously as she hopped across the garden, scooping up snow as she went. He was too slow on the uptake as he realized what she was up to and didn’t have time to dodge the snowball. It hit him square in the face. Clenching his jaw tightly, he set a scowl on his face and gave her a hard look as he spoke, “That’s war you just declared.” Katie just smiled and shrugged, already arming herself with another two snowballs and looking for something to hide behind as she saw Billy do the same. She furrowed her brows into a worried look as she realized that on her side of the garden there was nothing to hide behind. Billy grinned. As she held her hands up to protest, he pelted her with two snowballs, one hitting her on the thigh and the other smashing against her forehead as she raced to cover her face with her hands. His grin widened as he heard her make a small growling noise and then he ducked behind her car. “Come out…you…you coward.” She mock frowned at him as he poked his head up and then disappeared again. She weighed up the snowball she was holding as she tried to think of something to say that would lure him out into the open. She smiled. “You know…um…that little dent…that kinda appeared in the door of your car last month…the one I said I had nothing to do with…”

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“You little…” Billy popped his head up, frowning at her as she confessed to denting his pride and joy. The next thing he felt was the cold slap of snow against his cheek. He closed his eyes and wiped it from his face, barely suppressing his annoyance as he disappeared from sight. Gathering up the snow around him, he created a whole stack of snowballs and peered around the back of the car at Katie. She was doing the same. He could see the small stack of them like cannonballs at her feet. Loading up his arms, he took a deep breath and then when she had her back to him he sprinted out from behind the car. Katie barely had time to turn around and reach for a snowball as he hurtled toward her, pelting her mercilessly until she was crouching down with her hands over her head to protect herself. As the descent of snowballs stopped, she kept still for a few moments and then uncurled to see Billy standing proudly above her, his hands on his hips as he grinned triumphantly. She scowled for a moment before grinning wickedly. The smile dropped off his face as he realized that he was defenseless and she was sat next to a neat pile of snowballs. Katie laughed as he ran for cover and she threw her snowballs as quickly as possible at him, smiling internally as at least half of them connected, splattering against his retreating back. She scrambled for more snow at the same time he did, hurriedly making as many snowballs as possible before unleashing another attack on him. As he turned to face her, a snowball at the ready, she hit him square in the face and the chest before pelting his legs. Billy let the snowball fall limply from his hand to the floor and looked down at himself as he cleared the snow from his eyes. He arched a brow at the snow that clung to his work clothes and let his shoulders sag as he looked at Katie, thoroughly unimpressed. She just shrugged where she was stood a few feet from him, slightly out of breath from gathering so many snowballs so quickly. “Truce?” she asked, and he gave her a distrustful look and then nodded almost imperceptibly. Katie smiled. A snowball clocked her hard on the side of her head and she turned a frown on Billy.

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“It slipped?” he shrugged, mimicking the innocent look she’d given him moments before. Deciding to rise above it all, Katie looked around at the patchy snow. The amount of snow that was falling wasn’t enough to replace what had already been lost and she felt a momentary pang of sadness that this couldn’t last. She watched in silence as Billy crossed the fence again, loading up more ice into the machine so she would have more snow. Even the stack of ice blocks beside it seemed to be diminishing quickly. She sighed and then smiled as she noticed Billy was watching her again, that same look of concern he’d been wearing earlier back on his face. “Will it all be gone by morning?” Katie saw his expression turn pensive, as though he was calculating something and then watched as he gave her a sorry look. “Probably.” She took a look around her snow covered garden, watching the flakes as they settled on the decorations and the porch roof, making the house look more festive than she could have wished for, and far better than if she’d chosen the fake snow covering she’d been looking at just last week. “I’m going to get my camera.” She said with resolution as Billy strode across the lawn toward her. He watched her disappear into the house and then took in his surroundings too. After a few seconds of standing idly on her front garden, he let a smile creep onto his face and bent down, scooping up the snow from all around him and concentrating on executing another plan to perfection. When Katie reappeared with the camera, she stopped the instant she saw what Billy had done. He was standing proudly beside the scariest looking snowman she’d ever seen. Not only was the snow it was made of all knobbly rather than smooth, but he’d found some small rocks in the border and used them to decorate it. This wouldn’t have been so bad had one of its eyes not been larger than the other and its grin not been so lopsided. And still she couldn’t help smiling at it. It was charming in a funny kind of way, a little like the person who’d built it. Snapping off a picture, she walked down the steps and took another one that comprised of her two cats now gingerly walking around in the snow and looking as though they were trying to make sense of it. She then took a picture of the snow angels that she and Billy had created and finally walked out into the quiet road in order to take a picture of the house and garden together.

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She smiled broadly as she walked up to Billy, the warm feeling returning to the pit of her stomach as he smiled back at her. “Thanks.” She said shyly and then dropped her eyes to rest on the ground as he smoothed her hair, clearing the snowflakes from it. “No problem.” He replied with a customary shrug of his shoulders. Katie hesitated for a moment before raising her eyes to meet his, “You…you want to come in for a drink and warm up?” Billy nodded immediately, flexing his slightly numbed fingers as he thought about a nice mug of hot chocolate. Leading the way toward the house, Katie felt increasingly nervous as she walked up the porch steps. She kept thinking about the present he’d given her, and what she’d gotten him and couldn’t help thinking that his was far better. Stopping on the porch, she turned sharply and gave him a small, embarrassed smile as he almost bumped into her. “Billy…” she started, swallowing down her nerves as she looked straight into the dark eyes now watching her intently, “…this…this really is the best Christmas present I’ve ever had, and it makes mine look so…well…what I’m trying to say is, is there anything you really want for Christmas?” Billy stood mute for a few seconds as he absorbed what she was saying, what she was asking. He wondered if she could really be so blind, if she hadn’t noticed the feelings that he’d been harbouring for her the moment he’d set eyes on her, feelings that were often roused by the notion that she felt the same way. Katie felt the nerves in her stomach twisting and turning upon themselves, churning as she waited, enduring the silence that she longed for him to break. She was close to wringing her hands by the time he finally answered her, albeit wordlessly. He simply raised his eyes up. Katie looked up too, her eyes widening as she saw the mistletoe hanging above them. “Oh.” She said idly and then it dawned on her. “Oh!” For a second, she didn’t know what to do, she just looked at him as he waited patiently, his face impassive and hiding all his emotions. She glanced over his shoulders at the neighbours that were beginning to appear in their windows and on their lawns, all staring at the machine that was still churning out the flakes of snow that were covering the garden.

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Then she stepped toward him, squashed her nerves down and smiled internally as she realized that this is what she’d been waiting for all year. Catching hold of his jackets lapels, she tugged him toward her and smiled, as he looked as nervous as she felt. She tiptoed slightly as she slid her arms around his neck, feeling his warm breath against her skin and then slowly brought her lips to meet his. They brushed against each other in the gentlest of caresses and she felt hers tingle warmly. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the kiss and smiled against his mouth as his arms encircled her waist, pulling her up closer to him. She let her lips play against his softly, languidly as she allowed herself to get lost in the feeling of their first kiss—the first kiss she’d had in what seemed like forever. Letting her tongue run along his bottom lip, she didn’t care if the neighbours were gawping at them as Billy deepened the kiss, holding her tightly against him. She sighed out through her nose as her tongue played against his, brushing it softly and exploring his warm mouth as she forget where they were. As they broke apart, she smiled into Billy’s eyes and bit her lip slightly as she gave him a coy look. “So, you still want that drink?” she asked and saw a wicked little smile settle on his lips. He nodded slightly and allowed her to take hold of his hand, leading him into the house. When the clock in the town church struck midnight, he paused and made her stop with him. He wordlessly counted the number of strikes and then smiled at her. “Merry Christmas.” Katie smiled back, “Merry Christmas.” Wrapping him up in a hug, she smiled as he took the opportunity to kiss her again and she felt her heart flutter against her ribs as he confirmed that the kiss under the mistletoe wasn’t going to be a one-off. She giggled as she tugged him into the house, watching him disappear into the living room before turning her attention to the door. Holding onto it, she took one last look at the snow in her garden and smiled softly, memorizing how it looked and how she felt. Slowly closing the door, Katie looked over her shoulder and found Billy smiling at her, his clothes saturated from the snow and his hair all tousled and wet.

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Listening to the door click shut, she didn’t take her eyes off him as she thought about how good it was going to feel to share Christmas with someone she loved again. She wondered if he could read in her eyes and her smile what she was thinking, because he smiled too. Not only had he given her one perfect present, snow in the desert, he’d unconsciously given her another too. He’d given her back Christmas.

The End

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SNOWBOUND Gayle Eden

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Chapter 1

“Who the hell came up with this bright idea?” Jenna Merchant grated into the cell phone. “Your brother, Marc. He’s decided to zip off to Madrid and do that story for Exo`tiq Magazine. He said to tell you that all the plans were in place, it would just be you doing the photography instead…” “Dammit, Risa. I no longer work for my egomaniac brother. I’m an independent photographer.” “Can you hear me wincing? “ Risa laughed. “I know it, hon, but the guy has paid in advance for it…which Marc has put in your account.” “Of all the…Jesus Christ. I moved to get away from him and he still thinks the world revolves around Marc Merchant and his Pulitzer Prize.” “An ego he has. But look, it’s a big chunk of change, and you’ve never done anything remotely like this, so think of it as a challenge.” Jenna walked to the window of her upscale apartment. “I’ve never done it because I have no desire to. And challenge to me is getting a spot at a four star restaurant so I can rub elbows with movie stars. God, it figures he would go to Madrid after doing this, he knew I wouldn’t agree.” “There’s not much choice now, Jen. The guy has everything set and there’s only two days left.” “Shit…shit...Shit…” Jenna scraped her blond curls off her forehead. “I have a really good spot near the red carpet. I want to take pictures of Johnny Depp, not some freaking hermit named Buck Rogers.” “Buck Spence. And you’re not photographing him. It’s for Pine Lake Resorts, they’ve sectioned off this wildlife thing and…” “Spence. Spence…where have I heard that name?” Jenna paced back to the bar and went around to the mini fridge to fix a water and lime. “I’ve heard that name.” “I’ve got a call Jen. You need to be on the flight to Washington.” “D.C.?” “No, the state. Look, it’s the middle of winter, so take your cell. If anything gets canceled, rent something and charge it to Marc. I’ve really got to rush.”

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“Wait, Risa, is this dude meeting me there?” “Oh, shit, I forgot. No, you have a connecting flight and will likely cross paths in Denver. In fact I’ll call ahead and have the rental waiting at the airport just in case. They’re forecasting a foot of snow or something.” “Right.” Jenna clicked off, looking at the bright LA sun. She didn’t like the cold. She didn’t like the outdoors_ unless it was a beach at sunset. And she didn’t want to go anywhere she couldn’t buy a latte within a block of her apartment. “Damn you, Marc!” She padded over to her bright red sofa and flopped down, punching the number of a fellow photographer. She got the answering machine as she expected. "“Hey, Cal, this is Jen. It looks like you get my spot after all. My ass of a brother took it upon himself to send me to Siberia for two weeks. I’ll call…” She made a few more quick calls and went to her bedroom, tugging off her short dress and thongs she’d worn that morning for a lunch date. Muttering she stepped in the shower, scrubbing her short blond hair and tanned body, more than just furious at Marc, because he really never got the message. The guy was smart, a genius, an ace reporter and a photographer, but he had everything else, too, looks, money, fame and a freaking ego that she couldn’t stand. She was twenty-five years old…she wasn’t his adoring groupie or some worshipping fan. She’d had nineteen years of trying to hang around him and learn the business. And all she’d become was his little gofer and ass wipe. Her parents, now deceased, were to blame, a politician and a TV talk show host, they’d passed onto Marc plenty of talent, but also a combination of their egos. Hell, she had taken one too many orders from him and split. He’d never given her the good assignments anyway. He’d just wanted her around to run his errands and watch him preen for the masses. Five years she’d been in LA, her brother in New York. She’d sent cards, gifts on the right occasions, but she’d gone after her own success and got a pretty good reputation without him. Her shots were in some of the best publications, and she was known in the fashion and movie industry. She’d risen with the cream and snagged some of the most envied assignments this month a holiday month of charity galas and balls. Now she had to cancel her prime spot on the red carpet because Marc the God of the universe obligated her. If she had any kind of balls, she’d say screw him and let his shining rep get a bit of taint from screwing some guy over… Jenna stepped out of the bath, wrapped in a towel and rubbed her hair. Buck Spence? Where had she heard that?

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The phone rang. She picked it up on the bedside table, sitting on the edge. “Jenna Merchant.” “Hey, it’s Marc.” “You asshole! You egocentric jerk.” He laughed. “I knew you’d be a bit hesitant, but J_” “Hesitant. Oh, no, that’s much too civilized. Much too much a Marc word. I am damned pissed off at you. I’m not doing some crummy shoot in some god-forsaken mountains with some…” “It’ll make you famous, Jen. It’s a once in a lifetime deal. I grabbed it up for you, babe.” “Screw you. Enjoy Madrid.” She hung up. It rang again. “Marc, do you know what fuc_” “Is this Jenna Merchant?” Jenna grimaced. “Yes. I’m sorry…I er…I thought you were someone else.” “No problem. I’m Mr. Spence’s agent, and I just wanted to touch base with you, since we were informed on rather short notice that you’d be taking your brother’s place.” “I have credentials.” “Yes. We’ve looked into it, Ms Merchant. Since we did the run down with your brother’s secretary, I wanted to make sure you had been fully informed also.” “I’m suppose to meet Mr. Spence in Denver, right?” There was an irritated sigh on the other end. “I see we already have a problem. Ms. Merchant. I seriously doubt LA has them, but you’ll need appropriate clothing for colder weather and I… Do you have a fax machine?” “Yes.” “Please give me the number. I’ll fax everything to you since we’re short on time. Please make your flight, Ms. Merchant. Mr. Spence has gone to a lot of trouble and expense to plan this trip.”

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She gave the number. The woman hung up and Jenna snarled at the phone. “Talk about anal…. Ms. Merchant.” She snorted and got dressed, drying her hair over the sound of the fax in the next room. Dressed in white slacks and a silk tank she slipped her feet into flats and went to pick up the fax. Jenna looked at the two pages of instructions. “Oh, yeah, right.” She read down the list. “This is going to be a frigging nightmare.” ~ Two days and a flight later, Jenna was a walking zombie. She hated flying. She hated standing in lines. She hated wearing two layers of clothing because when the plane landed, there was already a foot of snow and another six inches predicted. Denver airport was crowded, the list of canceled flights growing and bodies laid out everywhere, listening to weather reports, and cursing anyone who would listen. She pulled her luggage off the belt and wheeled around to get in line. Just as her heavy eyes adjusted, the canceled sign lit up. “Shit!” She got out of line, jostled and bumped, rudely cursed by people as pissed as she was. She had to pee and she wanted a cup of real gourmet coffee. She looked out the glass wall and wanted to go home. “Excuse me?” she stopped at row of chairs, a nice, safe looking, family. “Could you watch this for me? I need to use the restroom?” A woman of forty, reading a magazine looked up and smiled. “Sure, honey.” She parked the luggage and found the nearest restroom. Crowded with women and children. Getting a stall, she did her thing and stepped out, elbowing her way to the sink. God, she looked like shit. Her perfect make up was smudged around her dark aqua eyes. The sweatshirt, which was the closest thing to winter she could find, wasn’t a garment she’d call chic. Jenna washed her hands, tried to repair her makeup and exited to collect her luggage. “Have a nice flight,” the woman said. “Thanks, it looks like I’ll be finding a hotel.” Jenna yanked the large suitcase and made her way through a mass of bodies and luggage. The noise level was deafening. She was looking for an information desk when her name came over the speakers. “What now?” She went where she was directed and cocked her brow at a harried looking bald man. “I’m Jenna Merchant.”

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“Ms Merchant…” He punched a few keys on the computer. “A Mr. Buck Spence is outside with the rental vehicle.” “Of course he is.” Jenna smiled thinly and wheeled back around. “Excuse me… excuse me...” She dodged and weaved her way toward the exit. “It’s a blizzard out there!” someone called out, coming inside wearing a parka and carrying a radio. “All flights are grounded.” She set the suitcase up and unzipped it, pulling the jacket she’d bought off the top and zipping it back. It was chic, suede, waist length _and the moment she stepped out, she knew she’d freeze her ass off in it. Outside was as crazy as in; people were hailing cabs and trying to get to hotels since the flights were canceled. She grunted as a guy with a shoulder bag nearly knocked her down getting to the shuttle bus, a group of college girls slammed into her back talking on cell phones. Freezing, feeling the bite of wind to her bones and too thin air, she set her teeth and looked around, trying to spot the illusive Mr. Spence and having no idea whom to look for. Snow blew in under the overhang and onto her non-waterproof boots. A gust of wind flipped her jacket open, making her nipples feel like they’d been frostbitten. That was it. She was going to get on that bus, find a hotel, and head back to LA. Screw Marc, screw Buck Rogers or whatever the hell his name was. “Miss Merchant?” Jenna turned around, her hand gripping the luggage that was being shoved by passing people. She tried to look through a solid wall of a lined buckskin jacket, denim shirt and faded Levi’s…and eventually had to look upwards. “Did you say my name?” “Are you Jenna Merchant?” Jenna nodded, trying not to stare at the brawny man, He had chestnut hair that was damp with snow and hugging his head to the nape, a rugged face with bedroom brown eyes, and reminded her of the brawny guy from TV commercials. TV…TV…it clicked in her brain. “You’re Buck Spence,” she said it dryly, vowing in the depths of her soul to murder her brother when she saw him again. “Yes. Our rental is over here. There are problems…with the highway. We might lose a day and have to find a hotel…if we can. I’d rather drive through, but if the passes are closed…” Buck Spence, she hardly heard a word he spoke in that deep, smooth voice. Inside hysterical laughter was threatening to bubble up. Buck Spence the nature guy…the

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dances with wolves or something dude…oh, jolly good Marc….very funny. She’d once stood in Marc’s penthouse and said the guy needed to get laid and get a life. This guy the big dude - in front of her. Flashes went through her mind, Buck Spence was twenty nine or thirty, had been in the Marine Corps and was wounded in battle, retreated to the mountains for several years and emerged as some sort of nature expert or survivalist. Jenna had seen First Blood…yep…she’d heard about those fanatics who lived in the mountains… So he was on TV, so what? So PBS let weird people do weird shows nobody watched… “We’d better go before this gets worse.” Focus, Jenna, focus. “Did my brother ship his equipment ahead to the resort?” “Cabin. Yeah, it came in by chopper.” His big hand moved hers from the handle and he headed off. She followed behind. The jacket was too long to check out his ass…but who needed to? His legs were big and round and long…he had shoulders that blocked the view for several feet… He wore some kind of complicated boots with straps across them. His feet were big, his hands were big, he was big… Holy shit. She wasn’t going anywhere with this guy. Jenna was so caught up in her thoughts that she ran into his back when he stopped. A soft oft sounded and her nose got a good whiff of leather, male, something warm and spicy. “You okay?” He’d looked over his shoulder, those chocolate eyes between stubby but thick lashes. “Sure. Fine. Hey...um…Spence?” “Buck.” “Yeah, Buck…” She watched him open the door to a big SUV. “I think maybe, considering the weather, we should probably cancel.” “You’re here to shoot the winter scenes. It’s the best time of the year for me to work.” He held the door for her. “The weather will break soon.” Jenna grit her teeth and got in, her eyes watching him walk around the front, walking like a man who knew he was bigger than everyone else was, head high, broad shoulders squared…or maybe that was the ex-marine in him. He opened his door and slid in. She peeked again at his hand; no gloves and kind of rough like the rest of him. “If the roads are closed…,” she tried again.

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The engine turned. He did the wipers, but snow was falling in big flakes with every swipe. Traffic pulling from the curb was slow. “They’ll salt and plow. We may be delayed a day, but in these parts, they’re used to it.” “But maybe it’s worse in Washington.” He turned the full force of his gaze on her. Jenna thought it was one of the strongest faces she’d ever seen. Really, the man was carved from oak, and it was a little too overkill, waaay too much testosterone or something. “Did we get our wires crossed somewhere or what?” he said it bluntly and evenly. “I paid twenty thousand dollars for a…” “Twenty thousand…” she choked rather than squeal, as she’d been more inclined to. “…professional outdoor photographer. Now I’m not hard to get along with. I gave Marc the information six months ago. I wasn’t real happy about the replacement. “ His eyes raked down her. “But the money has been paid and you’re here.” Jenna tried not to blink under that steady look, and it was dead on kind of serious. Outdoor photographer? Hell. Her last outdoor shoot had been on Maui with eight people fighting to carry her camera bag. She wet her lips. “Sure…I was just thinking of our safety.” Somewhere she’d read it was better to humor these survival types, like_they had some kind of hair trigger temper and went all postal and shit. Shit ...shit... shit… Buck’s gaze held hers for a few steady moments, then he turned and put the vehicle in gear and pulled out. Muttering something that sounded like damned city women. Had it been any other man, her current sort of boyfriend for instance, she would have asked him what the hell he’d said. But the guy handling the steering wheel was also the one taking up most of the room in the front. She’d let it slide. “Can we have some heat?” He glanced at her, pulling out onto the main road. “Is that all you brought?” “It’s kind of difficult to find winter coats in LA.” His jaw flexed, he flicked the heater on_ and then cracked his window. She didn’t doubt his coat was warm and waterproof, a guy like that probably never got cold. In fact, that show Marc had flicked past, he’d been in Alaska.

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The slam-slam of the wipers was the only sound over the hum of the engine. She crossed her arms for warmth and looked out at a depressingly white highway with stranded cars already lining up. They got behind a slow salt truck. The snowstorm was so bad it looked like night instead of morning. She flicked her gaze to Buck as he leaned over and turned the radio on, scanning over music and finding the weather report. She sighed and listened to the predictions, six to eight inches by morning, and oh, joy, truckers and people who’d come for the holidays booked up most of the hotels. Christmas was two weeks away. “How long until we reach a town?” She couldn’t see much but the salt truck and saltine size flakes. “Miles? About forty, there’s an exit… But it doesn’t look good.” She watched him turn the sound low. “What kind of project could anyone possibly plan in the mountains this time year? And why didn’t you just hire the same chopper…” “They can’t fly in this, either.” He eased over when the truck left the lane. “Didn’t you read the schedule?” “No.” He glanced at her. She met his gaze. “So what’s the deal? Marc has a good reputation. If not, I’d think he was trying to screw me over.” “Not at all.” God, she hated lying for Marc. “It was short notice and I had other shoots lined up, and with the holiday coming, I had to find replacements and take care of my business. I meant to read it on the plane.” “But you didn’t?” “Jesus. Don’t get all uptight. I know the camera, I’m good at what I do. I will read the stupid schedule at the hotel… If we make it there alive.” He glanced back at the road. “Pine resort also has a wildlife sanctuary. They’ve had some problems with predators…wolves.” “Yeah and?” “I’m going there to tag the game and set up a system for registering the native packs. Sometimes it’s humans and not animals. They need a more sophisticated system for

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numbering the herds and…” he stopped and glanced at her. “You’re doing the ID photos.” Jenna wanted to burst out laughing. But she resisted and looked away. Yeah, okay, like she was really going to traipse through snow and get near anywhere anything wilder than a puppy. NOT. “Can you do that in two weeks?” “This time of year, it’s hard to find the dens, but I’ve got equipment and cameras. I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to mark them.” Oh, he was serious, all right. He was dead serious. “If we make it to Washington.” He made a sound. “I guess I deserve this for agreeing on a fashion photographer.” He sighed shortly. “Twenty thousand wasted dollars.” “Hey, man, for your information I didn’t sign up for this freaking nature whatever trip. My ass of a brother dumped it on me.” His gaze whipped back to her. “What!” Damn, he looked pissed. “I hadn’t even talked to Marc, hardly in years. He’s good at what he does, deserves the Pulitzer and all… But he’s an asshole of a brother, a high handed jerk of one. He took off for Madrid and had his assistant call…and dump the job on me.” Buck Spense’s military past showed then. The string of curses were explicit, to the point, and very imaginative. When he ran out of them, he muttered again, “Twenty thousand dollars… Dammit to hell.” Jenna cleared her throat. “So, I could probably pay that back in a few months. Why don’t we just write this off and tu...” “Yeah, well you know what? That twenty grand is nothing compared to the chopper rental and equipment I flew up there, and half of that is the advance that was paid by donations…” She sighed. “Well, surely they don’t expect that back if we can’t even make it to the state line in this weather.” “I don’t frigging know,” he said sarcastically. “But I’ll say this, you had a chance to find out what your job was before you left, and the chance to call my staff and back out then. You took the job, no matter how it came to you_ and I’m stuck with you.”

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“I’m not a child,” she snapped. “Don’t talk shit to me, Mr. Spence. I can understand you’re being pissed. But don’t get macho on me or I will find a way back and screw you and Marc both.” “Jesus.” He laughed without humor, shaking his head in disgust. Jenna sat and silently called him names. All sorts of animal related ones and lots of tags with ‘big’ in there. It was a long, slow forty miles, and she had a whole new vocabulary of insults when he pulled off the exit.

Chapter 2

Four exits, ten hotels later and it was getting dark out. The snowplows were the only thing they passed, and even in the SUV, they were sliding and slipping. Jenna might not count the guy as her favorite person, but she had to hand it to him; he could drive in the worst snow, on a road that looked like a sheet of ice. Speaking of ice, the radio confirmed the temperature dropping. Buck said his first words to her in hours. “We’re going to have to take the next exit and stay put. We don’t want to get stranded out here.” She’d already developed a tense stomach from the hazardous roads. Now her ass cheeks were clamped as they literally slid off at the next exit, nearly hitting the signs. “God,” she grit her teeth when he had the vehicle straight. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. “I’ll never make it. Just let me pay you back and you have my blessing to chew Marc a new ass, too. In fact, you can get in line behind me. But I’m a city girl…an LA chick. I don’t do this extreme danger shit.” “It’s too late to cancel. If the weather doesn’t break, fine. But if the roads are passable in the morning, and the snow stops, the trucks and plows will be out. It’s just bad right now because there's new snow falling.” “Yeah, right,” she barely said and raised her head to see closed up restaurants, closed no vacancy signs on the hotels. One gas station opened. It was downright eerie. The snow was too deep, too thick, and the world too silent. The sky was dark in a bluish way that was spooky as hell. No one was out anywhere but those little trucks with orange lights behind the snowplows. He drove to the end of the exit; cars lined every parking lot and wide space. “We passed a place back there I’m going to park.” As he turned it, she asked, “And what?”

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“Hunker down until the snow stops.” “Hunker? Is that a word?” she sneered. He hit the breaks and they skidded a few feet. Her head jerked and her eyes flew to his. The look on his face wasn’t pleasant. “Bitching and whining doesn’t help anything. It won’t get us to Washington and it won’t get you to LA.” She rubbed her neck. “I’ll bitch if I want to. If I feel like. And I feel like it. And don’t do that again, you nearly gave me whiplash.” He stared at her, his nostrils actually quivered. But he eased off the brake, looked back at the road, and found a place to pull the vehicle several yards from the open gas station. He cut the engine. “You need the restroom, or food, you’d best do it now. This place closes at midnight.” “Why? It’s not like they can get anywhere.” She undid her seat belt. “I need my purse out of the suitcase.” He pushed a button. “Doors unlocked. It’s in the back.” She watched him get out and head for the station. “Oh, well, thanks so much for nothing.” She got out. Nearly screamed from the burst of cold wind and snow, and slipped and slid to get the back door open. Her teeth were chattering when she got her purse. She cursed her slick soled boots all the way across the parking lot. ~ He was sitting with the seat back when she got in with her weak steaming coffee and bag of snacks. Jenna deliberately got in the full back seat and wrapped her arms around herself, her teeth clinking against the cup lid as she sipped the worst, most absolute horrid coffee she’d ever tasted. “There’s my gear in the back. I’ll get you a blanket.” She wanted to be shitty and refuse, but she was too cold, and he wasn’t running the heater. “Thanks.” Another frosty burst came as he got out, then again when he lifted the hatch and unzipped something. He tossed the blanket over the seat and she caught it one handed. Snuggling, she noticed he didn’t get one for himself. He was back in and turned the radio off, probably to save the battery. Jenna heard the swirl of wind, a howl that battered the car while snow piled on it. She leaned her head

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back against the cold window. The windshield was getting covered and obscuring the security light that had been shining on them. When the last bit of light faded she had to admit it was like the twilight zone. LA was 24/7, and nightlife was as noisy as day hours. The tropical weather, the different cultures and vivid colors…nothing like this desolate silence where they sat. She didn’t recall ever actually hearing silence, not the wind, not like this. In the cocoon of metal it seemed colder, more dark. Mingled with her totally irritated feelings toward Marc was a tinge of fear. She was with a strange man, a big one, and she was in some part of Northern Colorado in the middle of a blizzard. People were murdered like this… People froze to death, too… The squeak of leather and shifting of the car drew her eyes to Buck Spence. He was unlatching his jacket and shrugging out of it. She could make out movements as he put it in the seat beside him and slid the driver seat back more, apparently trying to shift his long legs to a better position. Did the man not freeze? It was cold enough to see breaths in the car. “I’ll run the heater on and off. But we don’t want to waste gas.” Through cold lips she reminded, “We’re sitting at a gas station.” “Yeah. But it could stay closed in the morning.” She rolled her eyes and felt her feet freezing in the thin boots. She slid up, on her knees and tried to feel for her bag. “Can you turn the dome light on a sec. I need to find those socks I bought.” He flipped it on. She bent over the seat, dug out the wool socks, and turned with them in time to see he was looking through the rear view mirror. Sitting down in the seat, she mentally snorted. He’d been checking her ass out. Well, forget that, Bub…she didn’t do grizzly Adams. Her taste ran to modern guys, the knows-how-to-dance, wears-designerclothing, lives-in-nice-apartment, drives-nice-car, eats-something-besides-wildberries…and has-real-pets kind of guy. Jenna unzipped the boots and they hit the floor with a thunk. She rubbed her toes and pulled on the socks, wondering what she was going to do if they did make to some cabin in nowhere? She didn’t have the kind of boots, obviously, that would be required. She lay back again, and stretched out her legs. Nature Boy could probably whip her up a pair from tree bark or some shit… As if reading her mind he murmured, “There’s probably a ski suit and boots at the cabin. They sell clothing at the resort. Not a lot, but the necessities.”

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She sighed and closed her eyes; the creek of snow sliding off the still warm car gave her the creeps. She wasn’t going to sleep. It was early, and besides, her senses were on high alert. Speaking of senses, she could smell amid the leather and chill that warm male aroma she’d detected when she ran into him. Her lashes lifted, and where he reclined in the seat, she could see the shape of his head, the rugged jaw and collar of his shirt. Jenna flashed back to the TV show. The smoothness of his voice as he spoke naturally into the camera. He’d had on a parka and knee high boots that were some kind of fur. She’d had a blast making jokes about him. Who knew she’d be stranded with him one day? She tried to relax, to just tell herself that they were stuck for now and she was stuck in this vehicle until morning. But other than lazing on the beach, she lived a single woman lifestyle. She dined out, went to the club, made the rounds of happening places. Got up with friends and did chick flick night and checked out guys on the strip. She was supposed to have sex with Jeff this weekend… Jenna grunted. Not exactly a set date, but she’d planned on it since they’d gone out awhile. He seemed cool, hip, he was fabulously good looking and successful in the limo business. He dressed sharp, had a great set of white teeth and sparkling blue eyes. Yeah…she hadn’t slept with a guy since Mike… God...Mike with that long mane and leather pants and…she had to ask herself where her head was then. He’d been a real bad boy… But so bad that he made screwing a little too nasty. He didn’t have a seductive bone in his taut, rock star body. And after the thrill of hot sex was gone, she was left with a selfish temperamental jerk who spent more time reading Penthouse and talking about tits than he did romancing her. The guy had a tit fetish; really, he’d wanted her to get her thirty-four B’s altered to a D. Ha! No thanks. She didn’t work out five mornings a week just so she could pack around more weight. Besides, he didn’t know what to do with average ones. She’d really picked a winner there. Jeff had taken some checking out. The opposite of Mike, but more her speed and taste. He had a sense of humor, a real suave way with a woman. And he kissed good. What a freaking piece of luck, that a year of no sex was going to be put off another two weeks. Speaking of that, too... He hadn’t been cool with the info she’d given him. No number to reach her besides the cell, and no sure address of where she’d be. He’d freaked, in fact. And thinking of that, she had to wonder if he was the kind of guy who’d screw around while she was gone? Okay, yeah, he probably would. But she could handle that. She figured maybe he had something on the side anyway_he wasn’t pushing sex, and that was unheard of in her age group. Jenna rubbed the blanket on her cold nose. She glanced at Buck as he leaned up and turned the heater on. She relished the wafts of air, hardly warm, but better than that crackling chill of silence.

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She shifted away from the cold window and watched him turn the wipers. The snow slid off and diffused light arched in. Jeez, he really was a big man. Six four maybe. It was hard to judge his weight since he was so broad shouldered. She was looking him over when he turned and glanced at her. Again those eyes, deep brown. She had to admit his nose was strong too, attractive Viking slash warrior kind. His mouth was semi full, the kind you’d notice through a lens. In fact she would probably_objectively_find shooting him quite fascinating. His jaw and cheeks, that broad forehead, yeah the slight waves to his hair. He’d be a good subject. Considering he was who he was. “You getting warm?” She wondered if they taught that kind of smooth bass voice in TV land, or if it came natural to him. “Yes.” His gaze flickered over her face. She figured her mascara was smudged, that her earth tone shadow was history and her normally springy curls were all over the place. She’d just had good highlights done, buttery gold, and her tan was honey smooth. She figured her peach gloss was long gone, too. But what did she care? He wasn’t the kind of guy she cared to attract. When he kept looking, she sat up. “The coffee…I gotta’ take a walk.” She forced the boots on over her socks and fixed her jacket. Grabbing her purse she said, “Help yourself to the snacks.” Cursing, she slid her purse over her shoulder and braced herself for the exit. By the time she’d slid her way to the station, her nipples hurt from the thin jacket, thin bra and biting wind, her bladder was aching, and her face was numb. There was a line inside. She smiled, more like a grimace at other people waiting, mostly talking about the storm and making dire predictions. Her turn came about the time pee was pain, and she resisted groaning when she made it to the stall. The floor was wet, muddy when she came out. The light over the row of sinks stark and showing her wind flushed face. Again she washed her hands, running her finger under her aqua eyes and cleaning up the smudges. She pulled a wide comb through her curls and dug around for lip balm. It was SPF 90 or something with sunscreen, but she didn’t want chapped lips. She smoothed it on and shook her head at her reflection. Not even in my dreams, she thought, and popped a mint in her mouth before heading out. The trip to the car made her consider just asking to stay the night in the station. But she braved it and got in. Before she realized he’d let the back seat down, slid their luggage to the far end and everything was flat except for the front seats_now empty_because he was laying back there, head on a duffel and sock feet on what looked like her suitcase. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable up front?”

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“Nope.” He reached and tossed her his jacket. “Roll that up for a pillow and stretch out. Try and sleep.” “It’s not even nine.” “Nothing else to do. It’s going to be a long night.” There was a good foot between them when she turned and laid against the back window, aligned with him, but due to his height he obviously had to make adjustments. The scent of him wafted to her again, from his jacket under her head. It was earthy, warm. A little tease went through her and she put it down to her build up for Jeff that wasn’t going to happen She shouldn’t have even thought of it. She shouldn’t have been getting manicures, bikini waxes and buying sexy underwear, she really shouldn’t have passed up that outing with Haley to buy her first sex toy. Well…she hadn’t thought she’d need it, had she? She pulled the blanket over her. “Aren’t you cold?” “No. I’m wearing layers.” Somewhere in her mind were those catalogue images of men in long underwear. She grimaced. Not exactly sexy but about now, she wished she’d owned a female version of them. Jenna lay there, eyes looking at the interior shadows, some of the weak light still sifted through the back window he’d wipered off. She closed her eyes, tried to relax again, and tried to picture the beach, her friends, Jeff. But her body knew it was early and she couldn’t really relax with that gigantic stranger lying next to her. Again, as if reading her mind he murmured, “Relax. I’m harmless.” Oh, yeah, right. Big as an oak and with a commando background… Nothing there to be leery of. “I’ve worked with women before. They all made it home alive.” Was that humor? She rolled her head and looked at him. His eyes were closed, his hands resting on his lower stomach. “You’ve worked with women?” “Yeah. Lots of women. Forest rangers, zoologist, environmentalist, you name it.” “I thought you were some sort of hermit or whatever they call those men who live with animals.” He laughed. A real snort of it and opened his eyes, rolling his head to look at her. “Are you for real?””

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“What?” He smiled a flash of white teeth. “You’re a real city chick, ain’t you?” “Sure. Proud of it, too. I work in a competitive environment. With hip people who make things happen. I’m a modern woman.” His brow cocked. “Yeah, it shows.” Her brows rose now. “Dude, it’s your life that’s bizarre, not mine. I’m in the right century and know what’s happening in the world.” He frowned comically. “So what gives you the impression I don’t?” “Something I read on the credits…PBS or something about your background.” She looked him over. “You’re a little fashion dated.” “Jeans are always in fashion. But that’s shallow shit to me.” He met her gaze when it rose. “It amazes me how you modern girls talk your jobs and fast lane lives_thrive on reality TV_the challenge of nature and battling the elements or something like that.” “I’m not a fan. Sorry.” She smiled short. “I’m busy living life. I do thrive on a challenge, but I know how to party.” Her gaze challenged. “I suppose you have some babes gone wild image of that world, too?” “I don’t think about it one way or the other,” he said smoothly. “LA chick, as you call it, wants to burn herself out and live on overdrive, it’s your business. We were just exchanging misconceptions.” “Is that saying you don’t live in the mountains and do your animal thing?” He laughed again, a deep sound. “Everyone has their environment. One they find challenging and one they prefer to live in. The contrast of LA and someplace in the mountains is night and day. But TV’s image, documentaries aside, is skewed and generally shows the extreme one.” She thought on that. “Okay. I agree. But there’s something whacked about a guy_a normal, healthy one at least_living months in the wild. “ His gaze centered on hers, holding steady long moments in the half-light. “You’re talking about sex. You’re not talking about lifestyle or environment.” “Same thing. Unless you’re incapable, or have some hormones lacking_or like your own company too much.” She smiled wickedly.

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He didn’t. “So you think about sex a lot?” “No. I mean I… What do you mean by that?” “I’m just asking. You look at a man, find out about his life, skewed or not, you wonder about his sex life?” “Not normally. Not that I’m aware of. And it’s likely because the people I’m around discuss it openly. We all bitch, moan or brag… It’s everyday conversation.” “But you thought about mine?” She grimaced. “It was something like, five years ago. I was at Marc’s… This report just said you’d studied these polar bears or something for months…and there was the thing about you practically disappearing for a couple of years…” She shrugged. “I was being snarky, but yeah, I wondered.” He still held her gaze. “So, how often do you have sex?” “Wait.” She shook her head. “Let’s not get funky here. I’m stranded with you for the time being, and out in the middle of…” “I don’t get off on force. I have no record, and I’ve never had inclinations to attack any woman, sexually or otherwise.” “Okay. But let’s change the subject.” “Why? You want to know. I’m asking how often is normal…” “That’s impossible to answer. In a relationship…I…it depends on if you’re dating a guy…” she blew out a breath. “Normal, regular whatever. I just mean that it’s accessible for most people. Whereas…” “Hmmm.” He moved his gaze from her and looked up thoughtfully. The silence was long and she watched him, then her curiosity got the better of her. “Well?” “What exactly do you want to know?” She opened her mouth then closed it. Did she really want to know this guy’s private life? Was she going to look at him and listen to him tell her if he got himself off or had a girlfriend he screwed or something a bit kinky she really didn’t want to know. Looking at him, his face, the age had to be around thirty, a kind of seasoned and earthy man. A rugged one. Did she really need to know that?

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“Forget it. You’re right. It’s personal, and though I made jokes about it,asking you isn’t the same as the open way my pals and I talk about it. “ He rolled his head, tucked one hand behind it and rested the other near his chest. Meeting her gaze, holding it he drawled quietly, “I’ve got a few years on you. A lifetime, if you count the Marine Corps. At your age, sex was something different… “ “I guess so. There’s dating sex, relationship sex, one night stand sex…” “No. I mean it’s like you can’t get enough from puberty on. But things make it seem different, going to war or coming home…glad to have made it home. For a while, there’s a desperation to it…like an affirmation of life, and there’s forgetting_just wanting to be like everyone else without the memories…” Jenna felt something still in her at his tone and expression. She nodded but knew that he spoke of things she’d never comprehend. “And after you gorge yourself on normalcy, you aren’t changed, so you break or you admit it and instead of trying to find the man you were before_you have to shape the man you’re able to, if you’re lucky, you know where and who you are.” She swallowed. “I noticed at the airport…you like to take command of things, you plan and get pissed if…” “No. You’re wrong. I just don’t tolerate people who can’t adapt to the situation well. You were bitching about things we couldn’t do anything about… That’s useless in war or life. Your attitude is everything; it can bring you through things you never dreamed you’d survive. A snow storm, a day’s delay, that’s nothing.” “Unless you’re an LA chic who’s out of her element, with a stranger…and you’re flaming angry at your brother.” He half smiled. “Okay. So maybe that’s understandable.” “But you’re not going to be charming and suave and hip or amusing, are you?” “You mean because you’re here, and because you’re an attractive woman. I’m supposed to view you as something other than a photographer?” “No…” “Yeah. That’s what you mean. For all you’re a modern woman, you want me to entertain or impress you, or come on to you.” “No. I’d settle for tolerance toward a greenhorn and allowances for the fact I was sort of manipulated into this…”

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“So you can’t make the best of it, do your job well enough or stop bitching over the bad weather.” “Jesus. You’re tough, “ she muttered. “Lighten up, Rambo. I've been on tons of assignments, all over the world and for some pree-ty eccentric people. But you’re just too intense about this whole thing. I hate the cold;I don’t like snow. I’m not a mountain woman. I’d rather be in LA. There, it’s all said…” “And no surprise.” “But…let me make something clear. I’m not going to be intimidated or let you say whatever you want just because you hired me. I’ll tell you to kiss my ass if I think I need to. I worked for Marc the egomaniac for quite awhile. I did my share of boot licking and didn’t like it. I respect a guy who speaks his mind, but not one that takes his anal hang ups out on me.” He laughed again. “Talk about tough.” “No. I’m not. But the world, even mine, is full of men, women, too, who think they have the patent on speaking their mind or telling you what they think. I can ignore it to a point. But I’m not biting my tongue to stay on your good side.” “Jenna Merchant…photographer…woman…tough LA chick…” “Don’t mock.” “I owe you. For five years ago, didn’t you say?” She laughed and grunted turning her head and rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I did.” They lay there silent for a while, the creek of snow and frigid chill pervading the space. “It’s cold as shit in here. I mean it.” She looked at him blowing puffs of breath. “I’m not bitching, I’m freezing to death.” “Time for the heater.” He rose up carefully not to bump his head, dug the keys out and nearly lay on his stomach to start the engine and turn the heat and wipers on. He lay on the folded down part, his torso between the front captain’s seats, fooling with switches and knobs, looking out as the wipers cleared the windshield and muttering at the snow flying, smaller flakes, but still flying. Having slid up higher on the back hatch door, she had the blanket over her lower half. Jenna was human. She started at his sock feet, gray socks of some thick material, eyed the worn hem of his Levi’s before letting her gaze go up his legs, powerful legs.

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Finally she checked out his ass. She never would have thought it, because her previous men were whipcord and taut…but he had a nice round one that the denims cupped and the pockets rode really nice. His waist as he stretched to get something from the seat was tapered…those shoulders impossibly wide. The hair in nice thick waves lay on his nape, not the nice GQ or funky cuts she normally found attractive, just sort of a natural style, as if he let it grow sometimes, cut it short others, not a man like Marc and men she knew who had a favorite stylist, he probably went to a chain place and got a trim. He was older than guys she dated; she seemed to pick them twenty-three to twenty five, depending on their maturity level. Of course, none of them had Buck Spence’s kind of maturity… It was sophisticated hip, where his was…well, it was tough in a good way she supposed, commanding for sure, and oddly enough, quiet, too_ deeper, she finally admitted. She made the trip down him again, her mind turning without permission to wondering what he looked like in the raw, and recalling her friend Pam’s collection of male pin ups… He’d probably look pretty close to that. When he turned over to crawl back, she hadn’t moved her eyes; they were on his button fly since his denim shirt was tucked in. Nah…she wasn’t that curious. But by the time Jenna raised her eyes, it was to find him reclined there, hands down as if he’d been in the process of scooting back when he caught her looking. The heater was blowing hot air. But her skin warmed, too, with a little flush of embarrassment. What could she say? He wasn’t the kind of guy you could blow it off with… He wasn’t the kind she should be caught checking out in the crotch either. She skittered her eyes away, but the deed was done. And when he made it back and lay down, and she looked down toward her feet, the atmosphere had changed. With warmer skin and blood, she noticed the windows fogging, and under the hush of the heater, the hum of the engine, the wind...she could feel her heart thudding slow but deep and put it down to utter annoyance. To not having a cool thing to say_and knowing he’d caught her, so there was no way to break the tension with snarky humor. Jenna didn’t want to look over. She tried to roll to her side and bend her knees, to pretend to sleep. But she starred at the blue vinyl in front of her, and called herself an idiot.

Chapter 3

“LA?”

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“Yeah” “If you were home, what would you be doing right now?” Cool, okay, so he wasn’t going to use catching her to put her in an awkward position. Or…to start something nasty. Jenna rolled to her back and sighed, her eyes closed. “I’d be wearing a designer gown, backless, because it is warm there… So very, very warm, and I’d have had my hair done up earlier in the day. I’d be wearing strappy sandals and standing at a celebrity gala, getting those really good shots, because Christmas always makes the stars generous, and they like to publicize how charitable they are_-I’d get the perfect the shot of Johnny Depp…” “Have contacts, do you?” “Yeah. A guy I know runs a limo service. Not just limos but Hummers and stretches you wouldn’t believe, ones with hot tubs and…damn. I’ve spent half the year talking up the security guards and I’m going to miss the best opportunities. Forget the Emmys and Grammys. There’s nothing like Christmas galas in LA. It’s a photographer’s dream.” “So you’re a paparazzi?” “No way. I actually do shoots. But I cover events, too, because one good photo can build your rep. I don’t chase people down. I don’t have to. Most of the time if you pick the right event, they’ll give you a good shot.” “The guy...he’s your boyfriend?” “We’re seeing each other.” He was silent a moment, so she added, “We’re not lovers.” “I didn’t ask.” “Yeah, I know, but I could just read the she’s screwing him for inside info thoughts going through your head.” “You’re not lovers?” She opened one eye, rolled her head to look at him, but his eyes were closed and he was lying on his back. So she turned back around. “Not yet.” “Been dating long?” “A few months.”

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“I thought things moved a tad faster in LA?” “They do. But I’m a recovering bad choice, lessons-learned woman at the moment.” “Every one has their time of being that.” She rolled and scooted, laying on her side and adjusting the blanket, tucking it in. Head propped up, she asked, “What about you?” “What would I be doing?” “No. I assume you’d be doing exactly what you are doing.” “Right. “ There were a few beats of silence. “I was married once.” “No shit.” “Yeah. She was in the corps, too. Seemed like the thing to do before getting shipped out.” “But?” “But nothing. I came back and she had divorce papers waiting.” “Harsh. Is she still around?” “Still in the corps, married, and has three children.” “And since then?” His eyes opened, he rolled his head to look at her with those soft brown eyes. “I’ve had a few relationships.” She snorted. “Let me guess, they couldn’t understand you’re leaving to talk to the animals for months on end.” His lips curved. “No. Not exactly. There are two versions, theirs and mine. Mine is, that women say they want a real man, but they really want the personality and the kind of man they can turn into their ideal. Their version is, I’m rigid and unavailable, and emotionally detached from anything that doesn’t have four legs.” Jenna muttered, “I’ll go with answer number two.” He snorted this time. “I expected you would.”

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She could see her breath again, her nose was cold. “I suppose every time they wanted or needed or didn’t like something, you considered that bitching?” He stared at her. “No. But I want to be who I am, and I am a man with a woman. I’m not going to be some panty ass who’s manipulated, and I’m not going to play Mr. Super-star just because it gets them off.” She curled her lips. “Real sensitive guy, aren’t you, Buck?” He smiled outright. Jenna laughed on a snort. “Oh, I get it. You’re the anything that’s hip or chic, or playful is too gay kind of guy.” “Wrong.” He shook his head. “I’m the don’t play head games, don’t use me for your image resume kind of guy. I do what I do, because it interests me. That I am known to the public or that I have made money at it is secondary. I’m not into the TV star ego thing.” “I don’t suppose you chose your ladies because you had something in common? Typical man… Pick the ravishing ones, then complain because they are opposite of what you wanted.” “Are women any different?” “Me? No. I like a good-looking guy. I enjoy being wined, dined and treated well. Aside from one impulse to date a jerk opposite, I’m completely shallow and superficial.” He grunted. “You admit it?” “Sure. I’m not looking for a husband. I’m enjoying being single.” She asked then, “Why did you pick Marc, aside from his fame?” “Hmm? Oh, I saw his work in Iraq. I went to a show in D.C., saw some things he’d done on endangered species. “ “Yeah. That was while his ego was still moderately tolerable. Since the war photos got him fame and fortune, he’s able to pick and choose his assignments, and my brother tends to do the ones that will get him more fame and fortune.” “You lived with him?” “Yes. I was in my last year of college when our parents got killed. I decided I could quit and learn from the best…Marc… Little did I know he just wanted someone to stroke his ego, run his errands, and get good shots of him and his famous subjects. He kept promising me a good assignment, but it never came and one day as I was running up

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Fifth Avenue in a rain storm, trying to get his lunch to him on time. I broke the heel of my pump, couldn’t see for the mascara running, and had ruined a six hundred-dollar outfit, thanks to the weather. I just dropped his corn beef on rye and hailed a cab, went to the apartment and packed. I’d had enough.” “I read you made a pretty good name in LA.” “Yep. Earned it myself.” She rubbed the tip of her nose. “How’d your parents die?” “Car accident.” She smiled and shook her head. “Funny piece of irony. They didn’t even live in the same state. Mother had an affair, well, several. Dad probably did, too. But they’d been civilly discussing a divorce, finally, and were apparently arguing when the car hit a dumpster and flipped.” “They didn’t live together?” “No. I recall they did a few years when I was a kid. We had the typical upbringing for a TV anchor wedded to politician kind of life. Private school, nannies. I did my homework at the studio or on the campaign bus. That’s where the photography bug bit me. They were such dynamic people; intense, so self and career absorbed. I used to take those everyday shots at home…like the private side off camera kind. I vaguely recall the explosion over the first affair_ and the separation_ but let’s pretend for the media and our career stage_ after that, it’s just a way of life. Half the year with her, half with him. Anyway, Marc was the golden boy; went to military school, Harvard, obviously a chip off both blocks. I was the changeling.” “How so?” She looked away and toward the shadows in the front seat. “You know, the kid who’s not under the pressure to succeed usually ends up breaking all the rules and marching to a different drum. Can’t imagine why I thought I’d survive in Marc’s circle, either. I hated the ass kissing. I may have contacts, know who to buy concert tickets from or take out for a drink. But I don’t play the other games.” She was blowing on her hands, he asked dryly, “You already freezing again?” “Yea. I’ve got LA blood, remember? “ “You got anything warmer packed in that monster of a suitcase?” “A sweater, some jogging pants…” “Jesus.”

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“Hey, don’t start. We’re under truce.” Buck sat up and bumped his head. Cursing he crawled up and turned the key. Nothing…. He tried again…. Nothing. “Don’t even tell me...” Jenna began. “I’ll put my boots on and check it out. It’s probably just cold...” “One can hope.” She muttered and let the blanket go to find her own boots. He got his on, and the jacket. Cussed because there wasn’t a windshield scrapper. Checked the glove box and muttered while he slammed it shut, went back to his gear and retrieved a flashlight. “Stay put. If I need you I’ll let you know.” “I won’t argue with that.” She did crawl over and in the front seat after he got out. He slid out and sank into snow up to his thighs. “Oh my God.” She leaned over, looking to where he stood. “Half the car is buried!” “No shit.” He grunted and forced the door wide enough to step around. “Pull the hood latch.” He shut the door. She pulled the hood latch, felt the SUV shake when he opened it. Jenna sat there seeing the slight cracks in the thick snow on the windshield, her mind reeling at the amount piled up outside. He was standing in it out there, how, she didn’t know. And the cold air that had filled the vehicle didn’t bode well if he couldn’t get it started. Wonderful. This was why she loved living in LA. This kind of climate was for the birds! She heard knocking. He was doing something that required pecking on engine parts. In a few moments he opened the door, a crystal whoosh of snow came in. “Try to turn it.” “Turn it?” He didn’t look amused standing there in snow nearly to his ass. “Never mind.” He got in, bringing caked snow on his boots and Levi’s. Pumping the gas he turned the key. It tried to start. “It’s just the cold.” “Yeah? I hear rentals are crap cars anyway.” Buck looked at her and cranked a few more times. When it turned over, he sighed, echoing Jenna’s own. “We’ll let it run before turning the heater on.”

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She sat there, willing the car to keep running. “What’s it look like out there?” “Pretty deep. Some of the plows are half buried, smaller cars looking like snowdrifts. The station is locked and lights are out.” “Where the hell could they go in this?” “I don’t know. People who live in this part of the country are used to snow storms. They always have emergency plans.” “Speaking of emergency, do you have things in that super sized backpack in case we were stranded?” “Yeah. Don’t start panicking again.” Jenna made a face at him and turned to watch the snow sliding down the windshield after the defroster was turned on. He cursed, drawing her attention and sniffed the air. Then he got out. “What now?” “Snow is blocking the exhaust. You can die of carbon monoxide poisoning like this.” He didn’t shut the door as he braced his hands on the vehicle and made his way around to the back. She heard muffled curses, grunts and scrapes. It got quiet a moment and his wonderfully dire parting had her chewing her French manicure. He was awhile coming to the door, reached over and shut the engine. “I can’t move that much snow. Ice has frozen around it, even piss won’t melt it.” She shot him a comical look. ”You pissed on it?” He didn’t look the least embarrassed. “Yeah, to melt the snow. Look, LA, I’ve got a thermal blanket…” He looked over his shoulder and around. When he glanced back at her, he told her. “I don’t know if they’ll have this exit plowed come dawn, and we’re pretty much blocked in.” He got in, bringing caked snow from the hips down. “Might as well go on back. I’m not taking any chances running the engine. “ She crawled into the back, her panic pretty near the surface and fear going down her spine. She was sitting up at the window when he came between the seats, laid on his back and was unbuttoning his fly. “What are you doing?”

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“Getting these wet pants off.” He grunted lifting his hips, having problems with his height and long legs. She watched him and then his shirt came next, the tails wet. “What the hell have you got on?” He tossed the clothing in the floor up front. “Thermal underwear.” He came crawling back. Nope…they did not look like catalogue pictures. These were dark blue and fit like skin and she had no problem wondering what his body was shaped like, because every bulge, muscle and hollow was outlined. Jenna checked out his long, powerful legs and resisted…with every fiber of her being…moving up to his package_and with snug garments like that, she’d probably find out too much. Buck was digging in his super backpack. He tore open something and a flash of silver blanketed the space. The thermal blanket, she supposed. “Get under that with your blanket.” He said. Then he pulled out what she thought was a two-way radio, but he was leaning back in his former spot, looking at the green glow from a mini screen. She heard beeps and odd sounds. She heard some muttered curses. “What?” “There’s no line open to the resort and I can’t access my office messages.” “What is that thing?” He glanced at her and clicked it off. “A little bit of everything. STD…” At her look he said, “Satellite tracking device. Phone…you name it. I got it from a place in Sweden, real handy device.” “Not right now, apparently.” He slid down and propped his head up. “Take the coat off and scoot over here. You’re shaking like a leaf.” “I’ll be fine.” She lied, really cold and starting to fight a fear she’d die, frozen in this stupid car. “It’s not even one AM. The temp drops, and this snow on the car is going to be ice. Don’t be stupid.” God…she could really not like him. Jenna scooted over, feeling his body heat like standing near a furnace. Honestly. The man was as warm as if it was a summer day. She went to her side, ignoring that under the blanket and the silver thing, he put his arm

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around her, scooped her sock feet between his, and that she wanted to sigh and sigh from the warmth seeping into her back. He was a sold wall but a big warm one, and she tucked her cold nose down laying her head on her folded arm, just savoring the warmth. “If you get cold now, tell me, I’ve extra thermals in the pack.” “I’m warming up, thanks.” She yawned, surprised at how tired she was suddenly. “LA?” “Yeah?” “You start tingling anywhere, you wake me up, you hear me?” She snorted. He actually laughed. It vibrated against her back. “I mean fingers and toes. It’s a sign of hypothermia.” “Oh…” Well, shit, she knew that. “Sure. I think the jet lag is hitting me.” “We should sleep anyway. Hopefully get out of here early.” Jenna was drifting into that slumber edge, perfectly aware of him and his scent and the feel of his steady breathing. She sank into sleep with a picture of Jeff’s blue eyes and handsome face in her mind.

Chapter 4

6:30 A.M Jenna woke herself up moaning. She tingled. The ripples and contractions inside, between her legs, were so strong she was wet, throbbing for sex. In that half-awake stage she was rubbing her ass against a hot, rigid arousal she thought was Jeff. At least she could see his face; his six-foot lean body as it had been on the beach in trunks. She wanted him so bad that her breasts were heavy, her breathing excited, and her hand went down to reach back and grab his hip, to make him move it lower, to make him give it to her… She wanted that hand on her quivering stomach up, up higher to massage her breasts hard… Why wasn’t he pulling down her jeans…why wasn’t he rubbing that incredibly solid, full, sex against her? Breathing choppy, she lifted her heavy lids, raised her tucked down chin and sleepily demanded he sooth that painful ache. “Jeff, God…now…I’m aching, I’m ready to

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cum…C’mon babe…” Her fingers were tangled in the soft cottony material near his hip, her ass still trying to rub the right place_when she turned her head and saw a face that her foggy mind didn’t register for several seconds. When she did, adjusting to the weak light, she realized Buck Spence was propped up on his forearm, completely frozen in place…his eyes as gloss velvet, his rugged face was rigid, every sinew and bone inflexible. She closed her eyes, slowly let go of his hip…and carefully moved his hand from her stomach, so she could roll onto it…bury her face in her arms…and just die! Jenna’s body processed the shock so fast, that she grit her teeth at a last hard inner squeeze…Deprived and moistly prepared, too swollen sexual nerves were screaming in protest. Swift on that came the mortification and clarity of where she was, whom she was with, everything…and worse…she’d dry humped Buck Spence in her sleep. Jesus H Christ! Was there anything more embarrassing she could have done? Breathing back in own breaths in her face down position. She counted seconds and gave her red face time to cool off, her stupid body time to come out of shock, and her mind time to search around for someone out of the abashment. Why-oh-why- did a year of celibacy have to explode upon her now? Why did she have to have erotic dreams in the middle of a freaking snowstorm, with Buck Spence? It was still, quiet, cold. Nothing outside their metal haven registered except that wind and freezing ice-cracking noise. In the back, between them, there was only that sleepy scent of body heat and her subtle perfume, fabric softener from the blanket, his own scent… “I have to pee.” She finally reached, pushing the blanket down, and turning on her side away from him. His voice sounded rough. “I’ll have to go out with you. We don’t know what the snow is like and you’re tiny, you’d not be able to walk through it.” “Great.” She muttered, pushing her curls off her face and pulling on her jacket. Aware that both their movements were jerky. He got some kind of pants from the pack that looked like canvas. They zipped up the sides and were ugly, stiff. He had his boots on, and was up front before her. “Don’t bother coming up here.” He looked back. “Can’t get the door open. I’ll come back there and lift the hatch.” She was on her knees when the back hatch went up. Snow tumbled in foot long chunks and was packed past the bumper. It was blue outside, sapphire, with the drifts and piles of snow covering everything, like an endless desert of sparkling stuff, eerie, and unfortunately for her, deep. She really hadn’t had the kind of morning where she felt like asking…but Jenna said, “How am I supposed to manage this?”

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He was beside her, slightly back. “The best way is try and not sink in the snow. It’s dark enough and the top is ice. You just go out far enough to take a leak.” She closed her eyes, filling in her Jean pocket for tissue. She slid out of the car, her boots hitting the crust and sliding before she even got her feet. She went sideways, falling hard against the vehicle. “Hey. You okay?” He was there, leaning out and grabbing her, lifting her up. “No.” she fought tears where the ice had stung and her leg slammed the car. “Anything feel broken?” He was hauling her in. “No. Just stings. I have to piss.” Buck’s hands were running over her in an impersonal way. He seemed satisfied and set her on his lap, sliding out with her and though he sank down thigh deep he held her up. In the strange light he looked at her, having her cradled in his arms. “I’ll hold you up, you get your pants down.” “You’re not kidding?” “No.” “Jesus.” She wiped her hand over her face, really aware of him being a man since he was holding her as she weighed nothing, and since what she had to do was a delicate business and she couldn’t manage it on her own. “You could try and hit the coffee cup you threw down in the car.” She laughed painfully. “I’d piss all over the place.” He laughed and said softly. “It’s no big deal, LA. We all have to pee.” “This is why people should live in cities. In normal places.” She sighed. “All right.” He switched his hold under her arms and held her like that while she pulled her snug jeans and thong down. “Don’t watch,” “I’m looking straight up.” He laughed. She fought to keep her jeans out of the way, her panties, to keep her boots apart, all the while aware that he had her under the arms with big hands. She had never noticed how

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loud pissing was, how long it took to get it done. She wiped and fought the thong over her now wind frozen ass, and got the jeans up, not bothering with buttons yet. “I’m done.” He helped her in. “My turn.” He just turned his back to her. Jenna tried to rattle the snack bag, find the bottled water while he finished up. She did her pants buttons, fished out her hand sanitizer and scrubbed her hands with it. She tossed it to him when he got in. The hatch down, he unzipped his snow covered ugly pants and dug in his pack. She ate a brain muffin and would have paid 50 bucks for a good cappuccino. She sipped water slow, not wanting to make the bathroom trip none too soon. Leaning against the side, she was aware he was crunching_granola no doubt_and sipping some power drink. Jenna saved enough water and found her toothpaste. She brushed and spat in the coffee cup, sticking it in the trash bag when done. Buck, she noticed, leaned out the rolled down window and brushed his teeth, scrubbing hard and gargling loud. She shook her head, her morning wake up was something she would have heard about third person and made jokes about. It wasn’t funny. She hated feeling like an idiot with macho men like Buck. He put his stuff away as she combed her hair. “You see anything out there?” “Yeah. I heard a dull scrape. Must be clearing the exit. It might be noon before they get us unburied, though.” “Which means the station won’t open?” “I don’t know. Maybe the manager slept in a local hotel lobby. If we’re lucky. People are pretty good about knowing stranded motorist need supplies, and if the power is working, I’d guess someone will open it.” She nodded and watched him use something to try and scrap the windows some. The ice under the snow was glazed and bumpy. Not giving much visibility. “Could we try and dig back far enough to clear the exhaust?” He looked at her. “Okay. So I’ve never done it. But I have gloves, I’m willing to try it. “ “I’ll try it. You stay put.”

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She saw him crawl back and open the hatch again. He got into his pants and coat, pulled a pair of thick gloves from the pack. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and watched him after he crawled out. He used his booted feet and his hands to break the icy top layer, and then he started scooping, bending down and squatting, shoving snow to the side. Mists rose from his breath and she could see how hard it was to move the least handful of white stuff. “Have you been stranded before?” “Yes. A few times.” He glanced up and knocked snow off his gloves. “You live...where?” “My office is in Oklahoma but I have a vacation place in Florida.” “The Everglades, perhaps?” His white teeth flashed. “Close. But some buddies of mine run tourists things down there. I try and get down to hang out. Usually end up working or fixing something.” “All work and no play…” “Pretty much.” His gaze flickered over her face before he bent to the task again. It seemed like an hour passed with little progress on the snow but a lot of work from Buck. The air was cold and she knew his face and ears had to be in spite of the underwear. He worked fast and Jenna felt completely useless just sitting there watching him. He had a hole, a small one that he made between the car and snow pile; he used it as a starting point. The sky was lightening up, getting paler. “Shouldn’t you rest?” “I’m good.” He pushed a pile of lumpy snow and stood a moment, breathing hard bursts of fog and looking around, apparently listening. “I hear the plows...” “Thank God.” She huddled in the blanket. It was as light as it was going to get when he half sat on the opening ledge and drank water, resting. Jenna had gone up front and looked out, watching two plows clear the station lot and seeing the interior lights come on after a guy exited a salt truck. She could see people trying to dig out their cars as the plows and trucks went around them. They’d parked off from the lot, and it looked as if it was taking time to scrape near the pumps and main parking area. When she went back where Buck was, she said, “I’m going to give the guy fifty bucks to let me make my own coffee.”

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He put the lid on the empty bottle. “Well, buy a thermos if they have it, too.” He nodded and started pushing snow again. It was another hour before he told her to start the engine. She did after several tries and watched the rapid plume of exhaust obscure him a moment. Before closing the back, he said he was walking to the station to see what was happening on the roads, and he’d bring that fifty-buck coffee back with him. Jenna used the time he was gone to break out baby wipes and a mirror. It wasn’t the best wash off, but she made due and pulled off the sweatshirt. She got out a T-shirt and slid it on, then dug to the bottom for a pair of socks. She hated those fashionable boots now. They were slick and thin, but aside from running shoes and a pair of useless sling backs…they were all she had. She looked around before changing her panties, wadding the others up and stuffing them in the bottom, putting on a pair of blue thongs and wishing she had been thinking of her freezing ass cheeks when she’d packed. Buck came back and she was combed, changed and wearing a chambray shirt over her T-shirt, a pair of pre-washed low riding jeans and warm in the car. He was soaked and snow covered, and he handed her two thermoses full of strong coffee, a six pack of water and amusingly, a container big enough to piss in. “What’s happening now?” She uncapped it, poured him a cup and breathed in the rich smell, even if it was shelf brand. He took off gloves and coat, unzipped those brown pants, and was sitting there in his underwear sipping the coffee. “They’re working fast to get everything cleared. If we drive straight through we’ll make it before the next storm hits.” “The next one?” He glanced at her blowing in his cup. “Trust me, you’d rather be holed up in the cabin than in this vehicle.” “I don’t doubt. But why don’t we just write this off and drive the other way.” Buck took a drink of coffee. He looked out the now cleared windshield. “Because a day’s delay is not a write off. It’s just a delay.” She blew out a long breath. “Whatever. I’m just saying there’s no guarantee that a hundred miles from here we’ll run into a problem and maybe be stuck somewhere not so close to civilization.”

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“So, a little challenging weather and you’re quitting? But then, you’ve been hoping for an excuse to opt out…” “Damn straight I was.” She looked out the side glass. “This shit isn’t challenging. Not even fun. We could have frozen last night.” He set his coffee on the dash, said he was going back to put on some jeans and a shirt. While back there rustling around, she heard him say, “Life’s too damn cushy for you city people. Too easy to just quit what you don’t like.” “If you’re trying to provoke me, it won’t work. I agree. I like my comforts. I work for them and if I don’t like something, I don’t have to tolerate it.” He was climbing up again in Levis and a brown wool shirt. “That’s pretty obvious.” “And nothing wrong with it, either. You like this stuff, fine, whatever turns you on. But take some advice from me. The next time you want to hire out for a photographer, fly them in by chopper. “ He got his coffee and slid the seat up, fooling with the radio dial. “I’ll put that on my next memo to myself.” His sarcasm was laid on thick. Jenna ignored him and listened to the report and cussed the guy ever time he announced an opening. She watched the station and when a path was cleared by plows, she got out to go inside. She used the restroom, washed her face free of the old makeup and smoothed on her moisture cream and lip balm. She bought sixty bucks of junk food, a roll of paper towel, a box of personal wipes, breath mints, and anything else she didn’t want to get stuck without. They pulled out on the interstate an hour later. The radio absorbed the silence, and somehow his preference for seventies rock didn’t surprise her. She tried to enjoy the beauty of the rising mountains and pristine snow. But when a weak sun struggled through, she crawled in the back and went to sleep…her mind firmly staying away from thoughts of Jeff.

Chapter 5 7:00 p.m. Jenna exited yet another rest area and stood a moment, just looking around. Two vehicles… really, they had only been one of seven on the road and those were rigs. It was cold out in the air, but she needed a break from that frigging SUV. She had slept four hours and woke up, drank coffee, ate junk food, and when he’d turned the radio off because her head was starting to hurt, she’d caught herself watching him as he drove, looking at his profile, checking out his shoulders and arm, down to the denims. He’d

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asked for coffee and she poured it, their hands overlapping before he took it, and for some reason…the look he gave her made her aware that he was not so focused on the road…he was thinking of her free sex grind that morning. Once she realized it, she couldn’t help but slump in the seat, feet on the dash and remember just how it felt through her snug jeans. She couldn’t stop herself thinking about the solid muscle and his big legs and shoulders. Lust… lust... she shook her head and drew in crisp air. “Nothing unusual except whom it was starting to center on.” “Talking to yourself, LA?” She glanced aside. He was standing there, hands in his coat pockets; foot propped on a divider. “Yeah. Still bitching.” She smiled fake and looked away, watching that other car spin out, off and down the highway…the enviable opposite direction. Buck was looking at her. “Have you ever skied?” “No. I told you, I don’t like the cold.” “Washington is a beautiful state. Lots of winter resorts and the lakes…a lot of history there, too. “ “No doubt. I’m a beach kind of girl.” He looked at her so long she turned and met his gaze. Jenna was thinking that the mountains and snow, the harsh cold all suited him. In fact she really couldn’t see the guy in some LA nightclub. His wavy hair was ruffled by the sharp wind, skin color a little ruddy, and his eyes…well; she wasn’t getting used to them. There was something intimate and mysterious, but soft about brown eyes, particularly ones between thick lashes. There wasn’t anything soft about Buck Spence. He was way too earthy. “You’ve got nice eyes, “ he murmured evenly. “They remind me of clear lagoons, those National Geographic pictures where you can’t believe the color is real.” Her brow arched slowly. “Thanks…“ He half smiled, letting his gaze roam her mussed blond hair and yeah…her mouth, before he went on in the same even tone, “You should completely trust me after this morning. That was some wake up test you put me through.” His eyes met hers again. “Not that I minded…feel free to confuse me with Jeff anytime.” She turned so red, she blinked twice before she could get her brain working. “It’s been…awhile. People dream…no big deal… “ “That’s what I said.” His white grin showed up. He shot her a teasing look before heading for the car to warm it. “Feel free.”

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She stood out there in the cold too long, finally walking back and getting in. Jenna took great pains doing the seat belt and taking her jacket off as the heater blew and warmed her. He pulled out and she settled back. Night was descending and the moon was beaming down on the landscape. They were driving at an incline mostly, and she wasn’t going to look at him, not if it killed her. She found herself resisting every time a logging truck or family camper whizzed by with headlights beaming. She was going to sit there and call him a jerk for even bringing it up.

Chapter 6

She’d slept again. It had to be early morning when she opened her eyes, and realized the vehicle was still. She sat up, wiping her face with her hands and looked at the open door. He was standing there with that device from his pack. Buck must have heard the squeak of the seat. He ducked his head in, his face showing a five o’clock shadow that somehow didn’t look bad. “We’re at the main resort. I checked in and there’s some problems.” She rolled her eyes. Didn’t even bother to ask what problems. “Power is down and a storm is blowing in. This place was closed two days ago and everyone evacuated. But everything’s still at the cabin. They don’t expect me to get the work done under the circumstances. But we might as well wait out the storm at the cabin.” She waited for him to get in. “So this trip was wasted after all. I mean. We could have turned back at the airport…” “They called my office, but I couldn’t access the messages. I don’t know.” He thumbed some buttons on the device. “The guy said they’d rescheduled it for March.” Jenna snorted laughter. “You mean someone got a normal thinking brain and figured out what an asinine time it was to plan this?” He turned the device off setting it on the console. “You can’t really predict weather like this. It snows in March, too.” He started the vehicle. Towering trees. Towering snow-drenched trees. That’s the shadows she saw. And by the headlights…a too narrow road leading to a cabin was nearly as snow laden. He pulled to the flat front porch. “I’ll bring everything in.” He tossed her a key. “There’s no electricity?”

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“A generator.” He told her. “We’ll be better off here until the storm passes.” “When is it supposed to hit?” “In about four hours.” He got out and went to the back. Jenna went to the cabin door, used the key in the plain lock, and walked into pitch dark coolness. When Buck brought in the luggage, along with his wet clothing, he locked the door and seemed to have no problem finding oil lamps. Then he went out the back door and she peaked out to see a shed. In it was stacked firewood, a bunch of things like snowshoes and stuff she couldn’t identify. He started a generator and she backed out of the way when he brought in logs and began a fire. The things Marc had sent ahead were in cases by the one of the sofas, in insulated wrap. The main room was small and open. Two rustic sofas in native print facing with a hewn trunk between. The floor was plank, the windows big, uncovered. By the golden lamp and fire glow she saw other mountain gear hanging on the walls. On a standing shelf opposite, behind a pile of boxed goods, was a small microwave, a hot grille and coffeepots, some kind of copper kettles with spoons and forks. A wash tub hung above it. Before she became too depressed, she looked through the first doorway and spied a miniscule bathroom--toilet, tub, and mirror, shelf. Great…just peachy. She looked in the other. A back bedroom; big log bed, red and black flannels sheets, rustic furniture, fur rug and wall pegs. Better and better, she sneered. He was still getting a fire roaring, so she hauled her suitcase to the bedroom. She opened drawers, finding sachets and raising her brows. She filled one side and dumped her clutter atop, using the faint light from the living room because the bulb was still weak overhead. The bathroom, where she carried her things to bathe, was icy cold. So was the water. Buck turned when she came through, apparently reading her indignant look. “Give the water heater time to warm.” She left her things in there and sat down on the couch. “I can’t cook anything but omelets.” He glanced at her again. “There’s a freezer out back and a full grill. We’ll manage.” He got up and dusted his hands. “I’m going to put on coffee, unpack some food supplies. You can help.”

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It wasn’t an offer. She got up and helped him unpack boxes. Peanut butter, lots of it. Crackers and powered stuff. But, thankfully, good coffee, a box of instant meals that looked pretty good, some fruit and nuts, all in all, it was not bad for basic stuff. At least she wouldn’t starve. The boxes he tore up and fed to the fire and then stood in front of it, taking his shirt off. She took over the coffee making, using bottled water, and watched him while the aroma added to the scent of firewood. He shoved his hands through his hair and smoothed it down. “So who do you spend Christmas with?” “My Dad when he can make it. He’s still in Oklahoma…a farmer.” “I spend it alone, by choice.” She turned and found the mugs on the shelf. “I normally party with a group on Christmas Eve. That morning I like to get up alone…just make my coffee and sit on the balcony… We never had the whole family thing when I was a kid. We did the publicity ones early. But Dad and Marc skied in Vermont; Mom normally worked and went out later. I kind of enjoyed just sitting around in the quiet that one day a year.” “I thought you were the fast lane type.” “I guess I am. But Christmas is like a…well, more like New Year’s. You sit and reflect and get your goals lined out for the next months.” He shook his head. “One day to plan the rest of your year…” “I’m not as rigid as you. I don’t mind impulse on occasion and LA’s laid back in some aspects. You can adjust to changes. I get caught up in work, but I make time to socialize, too. If I get an assignment I really want, I drop everything and go for it.” He nodded and walked over, taking the coffee she poured him. He sat on the sofa and took his boots off, putting his feet on the trunk, lazing back and sipping. Jenna brought hers over, tucking her feet to the side and sitting opposite. The fire was banishing the chill in the room. “Did you know there was only one bedroom?” “Yeah.” He looked at her over the cup rim as he sipped. Her brow rose. “Ah, you were going to share with Marc?” She laughed at the image. Her blond, suave brother and the rustic Mr. Spence in bed together. “There’s supposed to be a pull out under it.”

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She eyed him dryly. “Too small for you, no doubt.” He smiled and cradled his cup, resting the bottom on his taut stomach. “As thin as your blood is LA, we’d better double up. I’d hate to wake up and find you frozen.” “No, thanks.” His brown eyes were laughing. “I promise not to bring up your…” “Okay. You’ve already done it, so let’s not.” His eyes swept down her and back up. “I’ve studied animals. Slept with a few females…never knew they suffered the same erotic dreams men did.” She looked over to the fire. “Since you aren’t going to drop it, I’ll inform you that most of my girlfriends are as normal as I am. It doesn’t mean anything except your subconscious gets a little carried away…” “Fascinating.” She glanced at him. “Now you’re mocking.” She looked him over. “I’ve only slept with one guy overnight, and he was at the extreme end of boob fetish. But I’ve got guy friends who talk, so don’t get all superior. “ “I wasn’t.” He shrugged. “So which one did you sleep overnight with?” “A real bad boy…a rock and roller who turned out to be my big mistake.” “Ah, from last year?” “Um-hum.” “You dated a lot?” “Sure. But I didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty-three.” “No shit.” She shrugged this time. “Messed around a lot. Spring break…but I thought I’d wait for a relationship.” “What happened to that one?”

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“He was really nice. But his life was on a different track. He moved to New Zealand so…“ She took a drink of coffee and gazed around the room. “You were one of those farm boys?” “Yes. Green as grass until the Marine Corps. It was just dad and me. Mom died when I was seven. Cancer. Anyway, Dad was in the Corps, so I knew I’d go. I just didn’t know how much it would change me.” She thought back to what he’d said last night. “You had a hard time after you got out?” “Yeah, I did.” He shifted and got up. “I got lined out, though. I’m going to bring more wood in.” She watched him as he did. Thinking how her pals were never going to believe any of this. They just weren’t. And they wouldn’t believe she hadn’t flagged down a trucker and got the first plane back to LA.

Chapter 7

Eventually Buck told her the water was warm enough. But she couldn’t run more than half a tub. It was a hardship she made it through, because a bath was first on her list of priorities. In the tub, with a weak bare bulb over head, Jenna poured on her expensive body wash after washing her hair. The silky bubbles felt great but made chills everywhere. She shaved her legs and felt like she hadn’t. Her underarms came next. Her nipples were so hard in the not warm enough room that she felt like groaning every time the faded washcloth went over them. Because of the heat circulating, there wasn’t a door. Buck said he was going to put his stuff away in the bedroom. She could hear him in there. She lay as long as the water was tolerable, then stood and pulled the plug. Jenna dried and stepped out on her discarded jeans, shivering, skimming on lotion and hurriedly getting in white thongs and bra, and her gray running suit that had a designer tag. She slipped her feet into her running shoes without untying them, gathered up her things and dashed to the bedroom holding them, one hand on her head towel. “Oh…” she came to a dead stop inside the door. Her eyes wide on the nude man standing with his side to her. “Excuse me…” she turned with a wince, tossed her clothing in the corner and said a gruff, “Sorry.” “No problem.” He sounded amused. “I was two seconds from having cut offs on.” “Let me know…”

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“You can turn around.” She did, pulling the towel from her head to hide her flush for a moment. Oh, my God…oh my…God...He had a kick ass bod…oh my God... She spent some time drying her hair, tossing the towel, finger combing while the image of his muscular body went through her mind like a slide show; warm skin, indented buttocks, big man with big legs, big shoulders… Carved and cut like honed bronze. Her heart was beating too fast. She went to the dresser and pulled the brush through her hair. She got it done, was smoothing on her moisturizer when she peeked up into the mirror. He was standing back there, wearing a half unbuttoned pair of denim cut offs…and just…standing there looking at her. Her eyes met his and she could have kicked her ass for being weak and letting it move to his chest; lightly haired, big pecs and dark nipples... His torso was divided with sinew and his stomach was taut, a ridge of hair going down to that waistband… Jenna capped the night cream and tried to say lightly, “You should model…you’ve got the body for it.” “Not the pretty boy looks, though…” “No.” She looked at his rugged face. He was too much a man…he was…too rugged. “Maybe one of those western ads…” “No thanks, I’m not the type. But I'll take the compliment.” She watched him walk over to the dresser, then looked aside as he got his shaving kit from the top drawer. He glanced over. She glanced over. “You’re looking at me funny, LA.” She cocked her brow. His grin was easy. “You like to look at men’s bodies?” “I live on the beach. I see men everyday. I like the view most of the time. Will as long as I’m breathing. I just…just...they’re a little slicker than you are. Not as tall and well, a little more…pretty boy, as you call it. Didn’t mean to be rude or anything.” His brown eyes went over her. “Your nipples are hard.” Her face got red. “It’s cold in here.” Buck’s brow rose this time. But he only smiled and left the room.

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“Shit!” She looked at her reflection, shaking her head. What else was she possibly going to do to embarrass herself?

Chapter 8

It was late. The storm hit with much door rattling and wafting wind down the chimney. There had been a pull out. It had alumpy mattress but clean flannel sheets, two blankets. She’d crawled in and covered up while he was still putting out lights and checking things. Since it was on the opposite side of the big bed, she felt it when Buck crawled in and settled. Four things occurred to her hours later. It was cold close to the floor. The cabin had drafts. Her teeth were chattering. Her feet were icy. She tossed, shifted, burrowed, nothing helped. Her bones were cold. She was so preoccupied with that, head under the quilts, that Jenna yelped when two big hands grabbed her. “Come on, LA. You’re going to break your veneers chattering down here.” He pushed the covers down and helped her up. “Jesus, you’re a block of ice.” “It’s damned cold down there. “ She hopped up and took his warm spot. He crawled over her and instantly brought more warmth. “Put your feet over here.” She did. He tucked them between his knees and pulled her back tightly, her head under his chin. “You should have crawled up here earlier.” “I thought about it.” She nestled back and sighed. “God. I’m never, ever going around snow again.” He laughed and it ruffled her drying blond curls. “We need to toughen you up.” “No, thanks. I’ll stay a wimp.” They lay quiet while her shivers died down and she yawned twice. The storm howled and the cabin creaked and popped. Eventually Jenna warmed and was wiggling her toes in her socks to make sure she still had them. His deep tone drifted down as Buck murmured, “You smell good.” “Thanks.”

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He breathed in and shifted his head. “Maybe too good.” She had already felt it. “You can turn opposite. I’m pretty warm now.” He muttered, “I think I have to.” Then lifted, moved his arm and put his back to her. “You can turn, too, it will keep you warmer.” Conscious that he was aroused by her scent she said, “I’m fine.” No sleep…not an hour--not two afterwards. Jenna lay there with his back against hers and felt his restless movements. She knew he wasn’t asleep, either. “You’re not my type…” He shifted. “No shit. “ “Don’t be offended. I’m just attracted to the…to a more modern guy…” “Don’t sweat it, LA. I got the picture. I know the type. I’m not asking to bed you.” Bed her? Jenna stared at the cabin wall. Who said stuff like that? Bed her? She thought he’d want a hand job. She wet her lips. “It’s like different...cars, or music…different breeds of dog… You like what you like.” He was laughing. Really, shaking the bed kind of laughing. She rose up and he turned to his back, laughing until it filled the room. “What the hell is so funny?” He put his hand over his mouth, but it was some time before he could speak in spurts…”You…” She rolled and rose until she was leaning over him. “I was trying to be tactful.” “Breeds of dogs…music?” He lowered his hand, his eyes shining and his mouth trying to not smile. She bit her lip, then snorted with laughter. It was funny. There was only a split second that she recalled seeing his smile vanish, seeing his brown eyes soften before his hand cupped her nape and he’d pulled her head down. Her mouth met his, and somewhere her mind registered softness and warmth before his tongue slid inside. Her breath whooshed out her nose, her hand landing on his chest for balance.

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But the tongue that slid across hers, under it, lifted it and stroked it, sent spirals of fire straight to her groin. Her head swam dizzily and he’d spread his flavor all inside her mouth before he slid his hand around and nudged her back enough so that they could see each other’s face. Though he wasn’t breathing as hard, Jenna could feel the pounding under her palm. She swallowed and met half way the next kiss--a soft, erotic thing that had a light taste, a bite on the bottom lip, a suck of her tongue. She realized she wanted to taste him and she widened, eased her tongue deep into the space under his, and laved over and around, feeling her skin come alive when the essence of him slid down her throat. Oh, God. He tasted incredible…all hot and male and sensual. Again they parted, this time with a sexy little sound of moist heat, and again they were looking at each other. His eyes were calm but watchful, observing. She could only imagine that hers were glittering, because the heady fog in her head, the hunger in her body was taking over. The rate of his breathing accelerated between them during the next string of kisses. So slow, and the way he moved his head, the sexual feel of his tongue, brought Jenna’s to a halt more than once. Somewhere in the little sounds and hot panting and laving, he rolled her atop him and his hands slid down her back. Jenna braced her forearms aside his head, wildly grateful for his longer body when he slid her running pants down and cupped her bare ass. He didn’t grab; Buck Spence molded and shaped and felt them. Her legs parted instinctively, her mouth sipping, his breathing wet against it; she felt one palm on the back of her thigh when his other hand moved inward. Buck’s fingers traced the thong line all the way. He stopped at her moist heat, rubbing against the cloth. She jerked her lips from his an inch, breathing windedly and closing her eyes the moment he shifted her up, one hand by the crotch and nudged the strip aside. A whimpered moan escaped. His fingertip dipped, warm and smooth, into her. Jenna opened her eyes for a second, looking into aroused velvet brown ones, and she let him hold her gaze while he slid deeper, deeper, and fire raced through her blood, down her spine… Her inner muscles milking, clamping, and wet, wet juices flowing hungrily. Their faces were close enough so that breath bathed damp, kiss-swollen lips. She flexed her thighs, the running pants were too restricting, but she was dying to move, to ride, to cum. She didn’t have to move. He began to slowly draw it out, sink it in, and he did it while kissing, sucking lightly at her lips and tongue. She was shaking, this time from arousal, and when he slid out, up between the lips and abraded slickly, she pulled her mouth free, leaned her face aside his and came with a guttural groan followed by gasps as he

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touched her inside again, holding still and letting her ride out every split second, every shock wave that burst through her. When Jenna calmed somewhat she felt him slide her down. She was all for getting naked and getting it on. But his pulsing sex was wedged between her legs when he jerked and arched, his hand on her ass and one cupping her head as he climaxed hot and scalding. ~ She’d gotten up first and went to clean up. Passing him on her way back and carrying her sweat suit. She climbed in the bed, lying there on her stomach long enough to register what they had done…who had gotten her off…and the fact that she had thought Jeff’s kisses the best. Ha! No way…even his best kissing wasn’t like that… Buck’s was sensual, so sexy, it was blowing her mind just trying to equate the guy she’d spent two days knowing and the guy who kissed, and touched like that. She heard him exit the bathroom and go to main room. He was fixing the fire. Opening a water or soda. She rolled to her back and watched him walk in and place the soda on the nightstand. He was nude. Jenna lay in the muted light and had a split second flash of dark hair and half erection before he was under the cover. She was further down in the bed when he scooted next to her and looked down at her silently before easing the quilt back. She was aware that her body was petite, firm, that the white demi bra and high cut thong showed her tan off. However, with a man like Buck, she was still trying to decide if she was okay with what they had just done, or if she should back track, and start talking her way out of it really fast. He let the covers fall somewhere on her hips and traced the inches of breast above the tulip cup while he gazed at her, murmuring deep, soft, “You want to take this any further, LA?” She felt her muscles contract. The voice, the eyes, the fact that she was too aware of his superb body, and yeah…that he would probably make it better than she’d had before. Jenna, really, how do you know that? Her mind mocked. Because…I can see right in his eyes, right now, and he’s not a man who does anything half way. I can also see that he is a damned intense man. Oh shit. She was such a weak person, really…

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“No strings, no expectations.” she heard herself say. That was her line she’d decided on. She didn’t know what kind of guy he was…if he’d take sex like a relationship or commitment. He smiled slightly. “I’m pretty damn relaxed. I can sleep. How about you?” She stared at him. “Sure.” What was this? Hadn’t she said yes…? What…the guy was like, too damn difficult to decipher… He let his hand slide down her belly, just enough to feel the quiver before he rolled over and went to sleep. Eyes wide, she lay there. Wonderful. He was a freaking nut case. Really. She rolled opposite and punched the pillow. This was definitely the twilight zone. ~ Jenna woke up to the smell of breakfast and coffee. She dragged out of bed, got clean clothing, went to the bath, took one in tepid water, and dressed in clean green leather thongs, nope, not asking herself why, and, with a matching bra under her blue chambray shirt, she pulled on jeans and went to the main room with her hair still damp. She looked out a window where snow was piled to the edge. She must be losing it, but no shock hit her. She really expected the worst by now. It was still snowing. “Hungry?” She turned to find him reaching her a paper plate. Eggs, bacon, a roll. A bottle of water.” “Thanks. “ She sat on the sofa, noticing he had bathed, shaved, was barefoot and wearing only jeans. In the daylight, it was all she could do to swallow. Her friends would pay big bucks for a photo just like that. A brawny guy with low riding denims on, snap undone, brown hair damp… and Jesus…the pants were clinging to a round ass she couldn’t believe. He brought his soda over, sitting across from her. Looking at the crackling fire and apparently not aware he was destroying her ability to consume food. She ate what she could choke down and finished the coffee. Jenna dumped the plate, brushed her teeth, and went back to find him sitting up, his arms over his head relaxed, with his feet on the trunk. Her mouth went completely dry eyeing that undone snap…the hair…the ridged stomach. She muttered to herself and walked over to look out the window. Sleep hadn’t helped, an orgasm hadn’t helped, she was aware of the guy. She was a little too aware.

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The white snow, white sky only reminded her she was where she didn’t want to be. The scene got tedious and she turned to pad back to the sofa, the opposite one. She should have brought some magazines, some novels…no, not those, that was all she needed. She and her friends read the hot kind and for all it was cold as shit out, she was fighting a fever of the wrong type. She glanced at Buck to find him looking at her. Why the hair under his brawny arms drew her eyes she didn’t know…except LA guys shaved it, waxed it, most of the ones she knew, anyhow. Not Buck the brawny dude… Nope, Mr. earthy macho, loves animals, gives good orgasms guy… She slid her gaze to his face again. “Sitting here staring at each other is going to get pretty old.” “I’ve got no complaints. The view is good from here.” She sighed. “Well, I’ve already paid you the compliment. I’m not going to sit here and rattle them off.” “No problem.” “I hate that frigging phrase.” He laughed. “You’re tense, LA. Getting cabin fever and it’s only been a night.” “You bet your ass I am. I told you. I’m not into this mountain stuff.” “You’re flushed, all hot.” “Kiss my ass.” She got up and walked to the bedroom, pulling open drawers and closing them. He showed up at the doorway, bracing his arms above and watching her. She closed the drawer and shot him a look. “What!” “I’m here to kiss your ass.” She stared at him. “What the hell are you? Some kind tease or... shit, I don’t know. Look…” she scraped her hair back and leaned against the dresser. “Where I come from guys smooth talk, they dirty talk, they make the point and even the vaguest double meaning I can pick up. But since you’re not even remotely like them, why don’t you be a little clearer.” “About what?”

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She shook her head. “You want sex with me or not?” “That’s the way it works?” “Yeah, Bucko…you keep the lines drawn that way, and you don’t get confused about what it is, or when it’s over.” “You kill me.” He smiled dry. “Modern and hip… You think people just get laid where you come from? You think…” “I think you piss me off.” She cut in. He laughed. “Now who’s anal and uptight?” She closed her eyes. “I really don’t like you.” “Yeah. I know.” He was moving away when she opened her eyes. “There’s reading material in the trunk.” He walked off. She waited until he went to check the generator. She opened the trunk. Magazines, nothing porn, thank God, and fiction, some hardbacks. She took some to the bedroom, piled up and read for an hour. When she couldn’t get into it, Jenna went in the main room, got the camera case and opened it. She put on warmer clothing and stepped out back with the camera. He was under the shed in his boots, thermal underwear top and jeans. He was sitting on a big stump at the edge of the overhang with a steaming mug of coffee looking out at the snow. She walked around the edges, taking some shots of the towering pines and snowdrifts. She adjusted and scanned, seeing several breathtaking views despite her sourness with the weather and the local. Soon her instincts took over and she was moving around. “You want to walk out some?” She lowered the camera. “In this?” “We’ve got snow shoes. We won’t go far. I saw some boots in there, probably a little big, but we’ll bundle you enough to get some good stuff.” She hated being agreeable. “Sure, okay.” They went back in. She dressed in what he handed her. His extra thermals, an extra fur parka. The boots required three pair of socks. But they were ready, and she let him kneel down, attach the snowshoes.

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They walked awhile, because it took some doing for Jenna to get the hang of having tennis rackets on her feet. The storm settled to a rain of inch size pellets floating down. She went where he led and stopped to take shots. They were out maybe two hours. On the way back, he paused. She looked at him to find him watching a deer peeking around the tree trunk. First she got one of the animal, then she turned the lens on that interesting face. Snow lay on his hair, some melting, as it did on his cheekbone and lashes, the pristine white and softness such a contrast to his visage that she shot several frames, and caught the best when he turned her way and those deep eyes were still colored with his fascination of the animal. She lowered the camera, and he stared at her in thick silence before they walked back. She let him go in first, lingering a bit longer to remove the protective cover of the camera and dry it. She set it in the backdoor and pulled off her boots, the coat, and was wiping snow off her face when it clicked. Buck was leaning there, snapping her photo. She grimaced and laughed, she was garbed in his big shirt and her hair must be wild, she had no make up on…. “That’s enough.” She picked up the clothing and came in. Buck placed the camera on a side table and started two microwave meals. Jenna got changed into the clothing she’d worn that morning, and helped him with the last bit before they sat at the trunks and ate. Dinner done, sipping coffee, they sat there until he retrieved one of the magazines, a hunting and fishing one, and lounged back to read. She went to the bedroom and took a nap, waking up under the covers in the night hours, with him beside her.

Chapter 9 DAY 3 The snow stopped. Buck took her further out and this time talked in that smooth deep voice as they walked. Jenna, in her professional mode, listened with a keen fascination that she didn’t know she had, at his conversation about the native trees, timbering, the ecosystem, a whole hour on animals and wildlife. Here was the guy from TV, she thought. He knew his environment like she knew LA. There wasn’t any comparison, but he managed to make it so interesting for someone who wasn’t interested. Under the lofty trees, he pointed out tracks and she shot them. He stopped and watched animals come out to forage for food, and pointed out markings.

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They did this every day that first week, while the earth seemed hushed, still, so white and she felt like she was at the edge of the universe, somewhere hidden from the rest of the world. At night he slept close, but there was tension, chemistry, and she stopped denying it mentally. She struggled with her own boundaries and times when their bodies brushed, when legs and arms touched, she felt currents going through her, building up into tension that was hard to ignore. He didn’t flirt, but he looked. She caught him a dozen times when she exited the bath, or first woke up, or in the evening when they ate. She felt him watching her at the camera, and when she laid reading or looking out the window. They talked to each other, but it wasn’t acknowledging what went through their minds or what made them restless at night. It was a Saturday and he’d run in the SUV to try and see if the resort was open. It wasn’t. He got through to his agent and offered to let Jenna call out. Her cell wasn’t working. But for some reason she didn’t care…she told herself it was because she would be home soon. He said so. But she didn’t want to have a droll and witty conversation or know what all her friends were up to. A sure sign she wasn’t herself.

Chapter 10

“You’ll be back in the sun soon, LA.” He said. “Passes are open, roads are clear, flights are going out. She was standing by the hot plate having fixed their dinner. Jenna turned to watch him take off his outerwear. “Fantastic!” She forced much of that out as he stripped all the way to just his jeans. It was hot in the cabin with the fireplace blazing…or maybe… just the fire in her blood blazing. “Food is ready.” The sat down and ate. She should be chattering ninety miles an hour about getting the hell out of there, getting home to civilization. She should be making all sorts of cute ass remarks about it. But he was looking at her, and she was looking at him, and how she got through the cardboard tasting turkey treat, she had no idea. But Jenna was tossing the trash later, having assigned a cardboard box for it. And she felt a tug on the snug short T-shirt she wore, and dropped the last box, turning and finding herself in Buck Spence’s brawny arms, his mouth making short work of reaching hers. Breathing heavy, fast, her hands were in his hair, his were everywhere. They were kissing wild and deep and crazy hot. She moaned when his hands cupped the ass of

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her jeans, and they were back walking, kind of stumbling to the bedroom, laving necks and biting and feeling each other all over. The bright white day lit the room. They turned at the bed so he could lift her up and on it. But he was down, down on top of her, between her open legs that wrapped around him while he pulled off her shirt and bra. “Yes…Yes.” Jenna tangled her hands in his hair, arching her neck as he massaged her breasts, licked and suckled them. She let go when he headed down her body, leaning up long enough to undo her jeans and pull them off. “Oh, God.” she watched him go all the way, biting and laving, and biting lightly through her thongs. She was ready for him to take them off when he rolled her over. He suckled her nape, his big body warm and powerful behind her. Going down her spine and then nipping her ass, laving it and letting his thumbs stroke between the cheeks while he teased her through the material. “Now... Now...” she was pushing back, finding waistband with her hand and pulling. “Now, Buck…” “Shhhh. Don’t rush, baby.” He was covering most of her back, his mouth at her ear and his hips teasing her with flexes. “I don’t...I...” She was trying to reach back and touch him. “I know.” He went down her again, firm hands and palms stroking her sides, down her legs. He seemed to be touching everywhere and Jenna couldn’t get enough, feel enough. When he rolled her over, she captured his hips again, her mouth meeting his and her tongue explicitly telling him how turned on she was. The denim chaffed sexually as he rocked into her heat. He lifted his head to catch his breath and slid up so that he was pressing right where it ached. Looking downward at her flushed face and glowing eyes. “You want them off?” She wet her lips. “I want you. Now. Now.” Her hands tugged, her fingers searching for the buttons blindly while she arched up for a kiss. He helped her slide them down. Raw and nude, and silky hot under them, Buck rolled to kick them off, then removed her thongs. He had them skin to skin, on their sides, legs tangled when he rubbed her nipples, then slid his hand down to rake her curls and on her sob, to slide between and stroke her. “Damn, LA, You’re hot and slick and sweet.” He sank his finger into her.

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Jenna had smoothed his side, his muscled thigh; she found his nipple and sucked until he groaned. She found his sex and fisted the throbbing length, feeling the pulse of it, the too silky, too hot skin. “I want you in me. Now.” He was bowed slightly to kiss her, and breathed against her mouth, “Don’t rush, baby. I’ll get you there, just feel…” He left her mouth and gently removed her hand and cupped her face a moment, his brown eyes shiny his voice a low husk. “How do you like the tongue?” It took her a moment to register what he’d meant. No guy had ever asked. She blinked. “Is there more than one way.” His thumb brushed her lip. His eyes searching gently, “Some women don’t get off sitting up…” “Oh…I...I don’t know. I’ve had it done twice…both times laying down.” He kissed her fast and soft. “Let’s try it up…” He sat up and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. Putting her on her knees, sliding between them so that she sat on his face. “Hold the headboard if you need to.” She needed to. He didn’t just flicker and lave, he plunged and sucked and used those hands and fingers. She had never felt anything so overwhelmingly erotic and Jenna arched her neck, moaning, muttering, going to pieces because there wasn’t an inch of sensitive skin and nerve the man didn’t lave and stroke. She gave a gritted warning, and he held her tightly down and she could hear him devouring her. The orgasm exploded hard enough to wring a cry, to have her shuddering and rolling to her side with weakness. But she scarcely came down before he was kissing her. Her scent on him and her eyes seeking his gaze, she grasped his upper arms. He tilted her chin up so he could look at her when he began sinking inside of her. Inch by inch, he went in slow, filling her, pulsing as her muscles and nerves rippled, squeezed against his sex. “Buck,” she sobbed. “Am I hurting you, baby?” He touched her cheek. “No. God no. It feels so good. My heart is beating out of my chest.” “Mine, too. “ He sank all the way and held still while they caught their breath. “Christ…you’re a big man” she murmured against his throat. He laughed weakly. “Henry is only average, baby.”

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“I meant your body.” She laughed and then groaned. “I feel like I’m wrapped in satin muscle and heat.” “Is my weight too much?” “No. It’s exciting. “ She slid her hands down to his taunt buttocks then back up. “You want this fast?” “I want it. I don’t care what speed.” He leaned up so that her hips were raised and he was nearly on his knees. “I can’t see you laying down.” He held her thighs and started moving, sensually, stroking in and out. Jenna moaned and reached up and back for the pole headboard. He sped and slammed hard then, over and over; the inner stokes of his sex soothing that ache so well she wanted to scream with it. He rocked into her, then plunged and ground, and did it all over again. “My God…” she’d never had sex like that. And the more she thought it, the more Buck Spence blew her mind and stroked her in a different way. When he got faster, amazingly fast, she panted and groaned and whispered, and thought she’d explode with pleasure. “You’re sexy as hell, LA.” His voice sounded tight, his face looked tense. He started riding hard and quick, moving the whole bed and hardly giving her time to breathe. “Oh...Oh…I...I am…” She did. She climaxed and shuddered and opened her eyes to find him over her, holding his weight on his elbows. Moving in her slow and easy. She touched his face, his lips, letting him draw her finger into his mouth as he came with a deep groan. ~ It was still early and Jenna washed and put on his denim shirt, sitting on the sofa while he brought her coffee. He was wearing the cut offs and he reclined, pulling her back against his chest while they sipped and watched the fire. Jenna’s hair was drying. He’d bathed, too, and smelled of spice and leather. She absently rubbed his leg, loving the feel of it, wondering at the grace and sensuality he’d displayed moving in her. And he had his hand in the shirt, cupping her breast, brushing it with his thumb. She felt his occasional strokes of his cheek or chin against her hair. It surprised her, too, because guys either fell asleep or got distant. She’d thought from what his girlfriends said, he’d be one of those. But he was holding her, touching her. “Can I photograph you?” She set her cup on the trunk.

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“Can I trust you?” She sat up and turned to look at him. “Not to sell them or show them to anyone…?” “I didn’t mean nude, though I think you’d be fantastic that way.” She smiled. “I mean right now, like this?” “Yeah. I mean that, too, LA. I’m going to have to trust you won’t put them on the net or…” “Hey.” She turned and reached up, smoothing his hair back. “I’m not a sleaze.” “I know that.” He smiled. “Sorry. I just got burned a time or two…” “With nudes?” “No. Just normal pictures. I took her to court, got them back. But I’m a product and I know that. I don’t want my private life displayed to the world.” “I won’t take any then, okay?” She lay back down. “I just wanted them for myself. It’s not like we’ll cross paths. I will send you the refund. And well…our lives won’t…” she sighed. “I really never had sex that good. I’ve had it dirty, I’ve had it quick… Never felt like that.” “Thanks.” He sat up, bringing her with him and turning her so she sat across his lap. His eyes scanned her features, then met her gaze. “I’d do if I thought you’d get off on it.” She smiled. “I would.” “But I don’t get one of you?” “You take it, I’ll send it in the mail.” He had a lazy smile on his lips. “Yeah, you would. That’s a perfect little body you’ve got. I won’t have to come out of the mountains for a long time.” “So you do like your own...um, company?” He shrugged. “I’m choosy, let’s just leave it there. I don’t have sex just to have it anymore.” So, Jenna thought, that means something, but she didn’t want to spoil the sexual charged vibe between then. “I’ll let you take me first.”

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He let her up and she fetched the camera. She got the camera ready. “Where you want me, and how?” He set the camera down, and set her on the other sofa, mussed her hair playfully and unbuttoned the denim shirt. He tugged on side off her shoulder. “You’re good at this.” Jenna teased, knowing it was a sexy pose that wasn’t a nude, but would look teasing. He picked up the camera and winked, teasing. “I haven’t asked you to open your legs yet.” He got his shot and lowered the camera. Jenna opened her legs and shook the shirt down to her elbows, placing her hands at her groin. “Last chance, Bucko…” she winked and wet her lips. He shot it, right when the shirt clinging to her nipples slid down. Buck put the camera down and came over, squatting to kiss that nipple, then the other. He looked into her eyes and slid his hand between her legs. He watched her face as he rubbed lightly until she was wet. He watched it when he touched inside and held it there. “You do that well, too,” she panted, holding his gaze and covering his hand. He moved it in and out, watching her intently and with only his eyes, his taunt face showing how much her arousal turned him on. “Get on your knees.” He waited until she did, and spread them wide. He stroked her and kissed her nipples, laved and flicked her breasts. Jenna reveled in it. She was hot and his expression was hot. She could see the fire in his eyes, the sinew and veins in his neck, the excitement in him. “Let me touch you.” She held his hand still. He stood up and shucked down, his sculptured form devoured by her eyes as he sat beside her. They adjusted so that she was on her knees at his side where he could touch her and she could reach him. They kissed, soft, wet, light, and stroked each other, rubbed and dipped for tasting a nipple or biting soft at skin. She reached down and moved his hand away, kissing him as she sat astride. Against his lips, she whispered, “I want to ride.” His answer was to lift her and lower her down on his thick sex. They groaned together, caught their breath. She leaned back. He held her hips, counter-moving her grinds and lifts and undulations.

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They could see each other perfectly, each expression, each spark of pleasure. She got too excited and she sped her movements, moaning, panting, taking him, and controlling the movements. “Jesus… Oh God…” He arched and leaned his head back. “Yeah…baby.” He made a sound in his throat, climaxed clutching her down on him while waves of shudders went through him. Jenna soothed him and thrilled at the feel that big male body quivering between her legs. She lifted off when he calmed. Eventually they cleaned up and Buck sat across from her, sipping water, looking at her with a smile of mixed amazement and sheer male pleasure. “Buck?” She rested her feet on the edge of the trunk and parted her legs, spreading the denim shirt. Her hand went down her body slowly and rested between her legs on the wet curls. His eyes darkened and went from her face to her hand, then back. He husked softly, “Yeah…” Jenna held his gaze until it dropped to her sliding fingers. She leaned her head back then, losing herself to the tension built from his earlier play and from having him inside her. When she came, it was a soft rippling of silken warmth, a small cry of pleasure ending in a sigh. “Beautiful…” His voice reached her. He came over to her and took her hand. When her eyes opened he was kissing, laving her fingers, rubbing them on his mouth. “A first for me…” He leaned in and kissed her. “Lucky me.” Jenna let him pick her up. Buck carried her to the bed and they climbed in, under the covers. They had been lying there awhile when Buck murmured, “You have a good Christmas, LA…sipping latte on your balcony.” She smiled and felt him playing with her hair, sifting his fingers through it while her head rested on his chest. “You, too. Hope your dad comes to share it.” He rubbed down and slid his hand to her nape. “Don’t get so caught up in the city life you forget about this world out here. I know you’re not into it… But I watched you out there, with the camera. It’s not hip, cool to you, but you recognize beauty and you understand the power of nature…”

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“I didn’t like the cold, no. But once I look through the lens, I see everything differently. I listened to you…I know where your soul is. That’s not me mocking you, it’s an honest observation.” She raised her head. “It fits you. And yeah. I’m still me, a smart assed L.A. chick… But I’ve had my mind expanded.” She grinned and ran her finger down his cheek. “Something happens to you out here, doesn’t it? All of the pretenses drop and you become sort of elemental…male, female, reminded you are just mortal and flesh.” “You’re getting it.” He grinned and rolled her to her back. He kissed her softly and sweetly. “God…your scent… It makes me drunk.” He nuzzled her neck. “Little piece of woman… I think you’re the smallest female I’ve ever held.” “You’re the biggest…man that I’ve been with.” She started laughing. He laughed, too. “Great for my ego, LA.” He bit her neck. Then he nuzzled her breasts, turned her and they were flesh-to-flesh, moving and lifting and meeting in the dark. They whispered, murmured and fell asleep with tangled limbs and sounds of their intimacy hanging in the room. Sometime in the wee hours, Jenna awoke to feel him caressing her. She opened to his touch, and when she was wet and ready, she sighed, feeling the control in him as he went slow and easy, occasionally kissing her brow, reaching to touch her hip. He drew it out and made it sexy and sweet, and he came with her name whispered against her skin.

Chapter 11

Buck drove her to the airport the next morning. Jenna didn’t talk on the way there and he was quiet, too, and seemed lost in his own thoughts. She asked him not to come inside. They said their good-byes by the SUV, their breaths misting out in the frigid air. “Good luck in March. With the project…” Buck had his hands in his coat pocket. “Yeah. Hope you get more assignments in the Bahamas or some warmer climate.” “Amen.” She laughed and then glanced up at him--her eyes trying to drink him up and her mind asking why it felt so difficult, why she wasn’t running inside. “I’ll watch the documentary.” “And now you won’t have to wonder about my sex life.” She lost her smile and swallowed. “Nope…” He took one hand out of his pocket and touched her cheek. “Get going, LA.”

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“Right.” She turned, pulling her bag behind, and heading for the glass doors. Holding it open, Jenna looked over her shoulder, her stomach in knots seeing that he was standing there watching her…that rugged face tearing her up so bad she turned and hurried through the doors.

~ Los Angeles, California Jenna sat in a trendy restaurant listening to her four friends chattering around her. They were talking about the usual happening things and trying to console her over Jeff. She could have corrected their assumption that finding him in bed with some waitress/actress wasn’t all that devastating. But since telling them that would require an explanation, she let them think she was out of the dating scene because of it. “Jen…Jen?” “What?” She turned to look at her friend Toni; he was a hairdresser who only dressed in royal purple and one of the most amusing people in their circle. “Girlfriend’s been on cloud nine since she was stranded in the boondocks!” He laughed. “You sure you didn’t suffer some kind of trauma shit or something?” “No. I’m fine. Just tired. I’ve flown to eight countries in less than that many weeks.” She yawned. “I want to chill out and just laze for a few days.” “Yeah, sweetie. That’s what you need.” He nodded and leaned to kiss her cheek. “I’ve gotta run, “ a model named Dawn grabbed her purse. She blew air kisses and took off toward the exit. “What’s got her ass twitching?” Toni snorted and they split the tab. Another guy said, “New lover. A chick from Spain or something. Your Dawn likes the leather type, this one’s on the cover of Rolling Stone head to toe in it.” Everyone laughed. They walked out into the bright sun, doing their animated hugs and byes. Jenna walked to her apartment, having dressed in a short blue silk skirt and up the tummy blouse. She had her sunglasses on and some chic stilettos she’d paid too much for. In the apartment, she tossed the glasses and purse on a side table, sticking her tongue out at a picture of Marc who was in London. She walked through the sparse but tasteful living room and to the spare she’d turned into the dark room. She checked her prints and

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walked out, going to the bedroom, the top wardrobe shelf, and taking down her private box. She flipped it open, smiling, looking at that self-portrait. He must have taken it that morning she left, before she woke up. He’d set the timer on the camera and sat down in front the fireplace--nude and looking half-sleepy, half-wicked with that slight smile on his face. God…she never thought she’d care for a guy like that. She put the photo back and sighed. She’d heard he was in town, some kind of documentary awards thing. Sure, she was going to go the hotel, get some pictures, and come home. It was a job. Yeah, right, she said an hour later, dressed in a cream silk outfit with a halter-top, short skirt and wearing strap sandals. She’d done her hair in a simple twist with some curls crawling lose around her nape and ears. Smelling expensive, some gold in her ears, Jenna collected her camera bag and her pass and called a cab. The edge of night gave the city an energetic hum; traffic, people, noise, it was like a heartbeat that was fast on the surface, but underneath laid back. Jenna exited the cab and paid her fare. With her badge in hand, she made it through the security, seeing and hearing the throng in the lobby. She took her camera out and blindly did the adjusting while she scanned faces, mostly corporate but some stars, and a few politicians. She tried to find the best view and ended up walking around to the hall leading down to another room. It was clear and up three stairs so she could look down and see better. She shot a roll, people schmoozing, cheek kissing, shifting from place to place. She replaced it in time for the awards. Jenna found a seat, not a perfect one, but she got good shots and she saw Buck…in a tux. It was a surprise, and though it was western cut, nothing could have drawn her gaze away from him. It had only been two months… Man. He looked better than she remembered. After the awards, there were parties in several of the ballrooms. She made the rounds and lingered, watching Buck talking, shaking hands, laughing, and looking like he was checking his watch. He was trying to figure out when it was polite to leave, she thought, amused. She caught him at a rare moment, when the crowd shifted and he leaned against a Greek column, sipping a drink. She took four shots of that when’s this damn thing over look, and had lowered the camera when she knew he saw her. Jenna watched him straighten and look around for somewhere to set the drink. He was coming over, making his way through the crowd. She felt tingly, hot. She reminded herself to be friendly, casual.

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Buck came around a group in front of her and wedged his way to stand less than a foot away. His soft brown eyes took in her hair, her dress, lingering on her nipples, then raised to her lips. “Hey, LA.” “Hey, yourself. You look good in that tux…for a mountain man.” His white teeth flashed. “You look…sexy.” “Thanks.” She knew her nipples were hard. Their eyes met and the currents just cranked into high gear. “You in town for long?” “Just tonight. I’m getting ready for that trip… Pine Lake…” “Yeah.” She nodded and put her camera away. She saw his eyes on her legs and when he raised them to hers again, she husked, “You want to have a drink?” He shook his head, his eyes saying he wanted something else. She breathed shallow, thick; the noise receded. “I’ve got to be somewhere in an hour. Another party to cover…” He was looking steady. “I’ll walk you out…” She turned, feeling him touch her arm, knowing he was beside her as they made their way through the crowd. The lobby was thick with people. Jenna felt him push the door open, and the balmy air hit them on the sidewalk. She needed to call a cab, but he was guiding her to the wall of hanging flowers that sectioned off the main entry. Out of the arch of security lights she turned and he slid his arms around her, kissing her hungry enough to steal her breath, long enough to have her up on her tip toes with her arms around him. Buck raised his head, his eyes glittering dark…his voice deep. “You smell good…. You taste better.” She blew out a long breath, slid her arms down and looked around to make sure no one was looking. Peeking back up at him, she smiled shakily. “How have you been? Did you have a nice holiday?” “Fine. Yes. Did you have yours the way you wanted?” God. The sexual tension was crawling over her skin. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “The next week I flew to Costa Rica.” He reached out and fingered her blouse. “I didn’t feel much under this outfit.”

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“No.” She wet her lips, seeing his expression tense. “God…Buck.” She blew out another breath, unable to believe how badly she wanted him. He blew out a breath, too. Buck slid his hand down and inched up the side of her skirt that was shadowed. “You sure you can’t miss the party?” “I can’t. I’m covering for someone who did me a favor.” Her gaze went down him, down those too well fitting trousers, back up to his face. “Take a walk with me.” She nodded toward the parking lot. She stepped down, he followed, and Jenna tried to pay attention to how many people were in the lot. Under the skirt she was wet, the silk moving against her body and driving her a little crazy with each step she took. She stepped over a divider, walked across a neat row of cement planters overflowing and quickly toward a closed snow cone shop that was in a dark lot. She made it and walked around the back, leaned against it with her heart thudding. And Buck was there, sliding the camera strap off, setting it down, pinning her against the slats and kissing her. Breathing choppy and shifting her hands under his jacket, trying to touch while her mouth drank every drop of him, Jenna felt his hands slid up the skirt, then one wedged between her thighs. She pulled her mouth free, holding to his arms, biting down on her lip to muffle the pleasure of him stroking her. He was breathing hard, too, trembling a little, and touching her so well. He used his free hand to nudge her back and, still touching, he whispered deep, “Cum. Least one of us will stop shaking.” “Oh, God.” She covered his hand, leaned against the building, moving her hips, watching his face until she nodded, tense. He leaned in and kissed her, caught her gasp in his mouth, held, touching inside while she came apart. She slumped against him--her breathing deep and her head light. Jenna gave him her address, adding. “I’ll be home around two AM.” He kissed her again. They walked back to the hotel and she got a cab. When it pulled out, she saw him turn and head inside. Jenna slumped back against the seat. She wanted him…she really wanted him to show up. ~ Buck didn’t show, but there was a message on her machine. He’d gotten cornered by some sponsors and he’d call her…

Chapter 12

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MARCH…OKLAHOMA “You sure you’re okay, Dad?” Howie Spence tilted his straw hat back, looking at his son in the shade of the wide front porch. “I’m right as rain. Little stroke…nothing serious.” Buck looked at that worn and baked face. His dad still wore overalls and T-shirts, and always that beat up straw hat. “Stay off the tractor. You’ve got help and you need a few months rest.” “I will. You’d best go. That job’s coming up and you want to get there while it’s clear and set up and all.” “I’m going.” He leaned and put his hand on the man’s frail shoulder. “You call if you need me.” “Sure will, son. “ Buck was walking toward his jeep when his father called out. He turned around. The old man’s sharp brown eyes looked him over. He grinned. “You got to surrender to some things, Buck. Sometimes it’s the way to win everything you want. Fighting against it… just means fighting yourself.” Buck looked at him. He hadn’t said a damn word one way or the other, not during Christmas when he’d talked about Jenna Merchant. Not during their phone calls. Now…he gives advice. Buck smiled wryly. “Okay, Dad. Thanks.” Buck turned and got in the jeep. After he drove through the gate and onto the highway, he got the cell from the spare seat and punched the number. “Jenna Merchant.” “Hey, LA.” “Buck…I...uh, wow...” she laughed. “I thought you’d be knee deep in tracking herds by now.” He smiled and passed a slow truck. “I’m on my way as we speak.” “Good luck. Did you get a good photographer?” “Joe Loftin.” “Very impressive. He does good work.”

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“Yep.” He waited a beat. “Sorry about…the missed opportunity.” “No problem.” He laughed. She hated that phrase. “Listen…I...g…Shit. I don’t know how to put this.” “Just put it, Bucko.” “You seeing that guy?” “Jeff, no. I came back and went to his place, caught him in bed with someone.” “Sorry.” “Well I was kind of in bed with someone, too…you. So I didn’t freak. But my pals think I’m off the dating circuit because of it.” “You’re not seeing anyone.” “No, Spence… Not since you.” He got free of traffic and hit cruise control, switching the phone to the other ear. “You’re young, free, and your life is in LA…” Her voice was soft. “You talking to me, or yourself?” “Both.” “It’s all out there, Buck. We’re opposites in every way.“ He felt his gut tighten. “Yeah. I’ve built this life I have from a pretty dark place. I found my peace and my sanity… Shit…I don’t know why I called.” “Just because I’m me, and just because I’m a few years younger, doesn’t mean I’m shallow. Okay? I understand where you’ve been, why you do what you do. You don’t owe me an explanation. I wasn’t pissed or anything that you didn’t show up.” He squinted into the lowering sun and said gruffly, “Even when you were bitching, you were exciting me…I thought, hell, I’ve been married, had some long term stuff, tried the whole commitment deal and obviously came up short… I thought there wasn’t anything left that turn me on when it came to women. You get me? “ “Yes. You don’t like to fail, your relationships weren’t working out, so you didn’t have sex for the hell of it, and you weren’t planning on being attracted to me but it happened.”

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“Yes. It happened. It happened when you turned around in that airport lot, and when you bitched, and when you rubbed your ass on me that morning. Hell, LA, it happened and when we finally went to bed…I thought, this woman is giving in because she’s honest about wanting sex, and since I wanted it, it was supposed to be a lay…for us both…something we had and ended.” “Sounds about right.” He gave up and pulled off an exit, went to a rest stop, and put the jeep in park. Buck shut the engine off. He sat there after rolling the window down, holding the phone and looking out, not seeing anything. “I pulled off at a rest stop.” “You did? You want talk dirty, have phone sex?” He laughed at her tone and leaned his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want you here… I want you.” She was quite for a beat of seconds. “Where are you?” “I’m still in Oklahoma.” “Drive back to your dad’s. I’ll get a flight, and meet you there.” He sighed and moved his hand, lightly touching the wheel. “This is crazy shit, LA.” “I’ll see you in a few hours.” She clicked off. He sat there an hour; tempted to call her back and tell her it was a moment of insanity. Finally he turned and drove back toward the farm, calling his dad…giving a short explanation. “I’m going to Edgar’s for the night. The doors unlocked.” “Thanks, Dad.” “No problem, son.” When Buck pulled into the farmhouse it was quiet. His father’s old truck was gone. He got out and climbed up the steps, opening the screen door and going in to put on coffee. He didn’t know what he was doing…what he was going to say. He just knew she was not like anyone else in his life. He knew he wanted her. It was hours later, past midnight when the rental pulled into the yard. Buck was sitting on the porch and the inside light shone out the screen door. She got out, her blond curls ruffling in the night wind, her fine body clad in a chic little black dress, It occurred to him she’d dropped everything, possibly been on her way out, and just came to him.

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Buck stepped down to help her with the carry all. But he ended up closing the car door and picking her up, carrying her in the house, up the stairs to his old rooms and laid her on the double iron bed. He looked her over; her make up was nice and her skirt showed lace-topped stockings that were sexy. He gazed into her eyes and saw that life, that humor, that fascinating and sensual woman. Sitting on the bed by her hip, he asked, “You want to talk or make love?” She reached down and slipped her shoes off. Sat up and then pulled off her dress, showing a black strapless bra, high cut black lace thongs and those stockings. She leaned back on her elbows. “Guess?” He smiled and stood up, slowly undressing because her eyes were on him. He watched her watch him, felt her heat and her hunger, and felt excitement going through him. He was nude when he laid down beside her, his hand on her stomach when he leaned over, kissing her slow so he could taste her fully. They kissed, hands sliding across skin, and he breathed her scent, buried his face in her hair, her neck, inhaling her. Buck unlatched her bra, slid her panties off and rose long enough to see her glittering aqua eyes. He touched her, found her wet and so ready it sent a shudder through him. He covered her frame, felt her legs go around him while he kissed her again. She whispered, “Now…” And he sank into the silken heat of her, feeling a wave of hunger and pleasure that rose with each moan, each whisper she let go. He tried to go slow. She didn’t want slowly. And he was too far gone to do anything but react to what she wanted…to sink into the feeling of his sex sliding in and out of her and his mouth tasting her kisses. It was a deep and intense ride to the sun for him, exploding with brilliant lights through his body. Later they laid on the bed, she against his chest, and him holding her, caressing her arm and shoulder. Buck’s hand was behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling. It was real. It was every feeling he remembered and more. He hugged her to him, felt her caress him back and nuzzle his chest. “We’re falling in love, “ he said finally, his voice smooth and even but with effort. She lifted her head, propped her chin on his chest to look at him. “Yes…I am.” He glanced down at her. “Don’t fight it, LA. I’ll make it work…” She rose higher so that their faces were even, her smile shining in her eyes as she husked, “Don’t try and plan it out or fit some ideal. You know where I am. I know where you’ll be. Somewhere in there we’ll be together and we’ll burn each other up with sex,

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and we’ll piss each other off and laugh…and I’ll marry you when you’re ready… and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Buck grinned and slid his hand up to cup her head. “Not this time. Not with you.” He pulled her down for a kiss, saying against her lips, “This is real…baby.” She kissed him back and then pulled apart to murmur, “It has been for me since the first time you touched me.” He rolled her and looked down at her. “How does Hawaii sound for a honeymoon?” She grinned. “Warm. Wonderful. I’ll give you a lap dance wearing nothing but a lei.” Buck groaned and dipped to kiss her breast. “I’ll book it as soon as I’m through in Washington.” “Great, I’ve already got my gown picked out.” Buck fell back laughing. She leaned over him. “What? You didn’t think I’d wait until the last moment did you? I’ve got a list, Bub, right down to the last flower.” “LA, you’re full of shit. No way could you know tha…” “Of course not.” She winked and grinned. “I didn’t pick out a ring. I thought you should do that.” When he finished laughing, Buck knew it, he knew the feeling, and said softly. “I love you.” Her aqua eyes filled with tears, they spilled over onto his chest. “Finally you say something clear enough. I love you, too, but I was going to wait until you said it first.” He wiped her tears away. “Tough, LA chick…“ He kissed her, short ones all over her face. “I want you again.” She opened to him, held him tight and began a night of little sleep, but feeding hungers and expressing feelings that grew with each touch and stroke. The bright sun flooded in before they gave into exhaustion and pulled the sheet up; their bodies close, touching.

EPILOGUE

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They were married three days later on the farm. Buck went to Washington, Jenna to LA. They called every night. In July, they went to Hawaii, in August, she was pregnant. In September, they spent the month at the farm before his father passed away. In October, they bought a house in the California Mountains. In November, they cleared their calendars and fixed the nursery. In December, Buck came home early from a trip and woke her on Christmas morning with a latte, and sat with her on the deck drinking it. In January, they flew together for her shoot in Jamaica. In February, their son was born. In March…word spread that Buck Spence the nature guy was only working three months out of the year. He wanted more time with his wife and baby. Jenna learned to ski that winter. She got all of her LA friends to join her. Buck took the most hilarious photographs… The best was Toni in his purple feather boa and Jenna skiing in a bikini on a dare… Somehow they showed up on the Internet. She became famous… Jenna often appears in documentary outtakes, on blooper shows…making her husband crack up laughing at the most serious moments… But the whole crew knows his secret… The T-shirt he wears in those shots reads on the back…. I Love LA.

The End

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SO THIS IS CHRISTMAS Jennifer Goss

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“Welcome to the Hamburg Etc. How can I help you?” “Hey, Jo,” Kelly grinned across the counter at her friend decked out in her Crayola-red striped uniform and matching cow hat. “How’s work going?” “Would you be interested in something from our Dollar Breakfast Menu?” Joanna replied in an irritatingly perky voice, her eyes staring straight ahead, almost robotic-like. Kelly glanced sidelong with concern at Kate who stood to her left, before turning back to Joanna. “Jo, you ok?” “I’m fine, thank you for asking girl I do not know and have never met in my life,” she pushed the last few words out through her smiling teeth, carefully emphasizing each syllable. Kelly’s head snapped to attention as she caught and followed Jo’s intense gaze. Together they watched a young man in his late thirties stalk past them, eyeing them suspiciously. The badge “Manager” was pinned across the breast pocket of his impeccably white dress shirt. They watched him until he passed out of sight into the back room. As soon as he was gone, Joanna let out the deep breath she’d been holding in, and massaged the sides of her jaw. “I swear I think I’m going to break some teeth if I have to keep that smile up for another double shift.” “New manager?” Kate moved forward so she could whisper with the other two girls. “Yep,” Joanna nodded. “You two have just had the unfortunate pleasure of receiving the scrutinizing stare of death from Todd, regional manager of the Hamburg Etc. empire.” “Regional manager, wow. They’re pulling out the big guns,” Kelly added, her eyes still staring at the doorway through which Todd had vanished. “Next there will be dealers standing out on the street corners selling our classics out of the back of their cars. Get the kids hooked early and reel them in,” Joanna sighed, pulling off her hat and running a hand through her short auburn hair before pushing the plush smiling cow back down on her head. “So what’s with the visit?” “We just wanted to stop in and see how you were doing,” Kelly smiled brightly at her friend--a little too brightly. Since her mother had passed away from cancer only four months prior, Joanna had found her friends treating her like a china doll. She knew they meant well and was truly grateful for all the support, late night movie marathons, and trips to her favorite coffee house. But lately, they seemed to pop up everywhere, wearing the same squeaky

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bright smiles and don’t worry you’ll heal soon doe eyes. As good as their intentions were, sometimes Joanna wanted nothing more than to go on as if nothing had happened because sometimes it felt more as if catering to her every desire was just an easy way for them to deal with the guilt they felt that at twenty-two years old, they still had their parents and she no longer did. “I told you guys…you need to stop doing this.” Joanna frowned. “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to feel guilty about what happened. Yes, it’s been rough at times, but I’m dealing and besides each day it gets a little easier. See,” she pointed to her smiling face, “This is my survivor face, so you guys don’t have to keep beating yourselves up over all of it, ok?” “I know,” Kelly replied, her eyes downcast. “It’s just…hard.” She lifted her gaze back to Joanna’s. “I do know,” Jo replied softly, her smile fading around the edges. Kelly and her mother had been close, and for all her own hurting, Joanna could still see pain in Kelly’s eyes. “But honestly, I’m doing ok. I’ve got you guys and Sam’s back, and for that I am grateful.” “Where is Sammie?” Kate piped up, gently changing the topic of conversation. Kelly shot her a grateful smile. “I haven’t seen her around the last few days.” “She’s spending Christmas skiing with Dad and Cheryl in Aspen. They called us last weekend. I guess Matt and Sonya had been begging Dad for awhile now and Cheryl suggested inviting us along.” There was a slight edge of bitterness to Joanna’s voice but it didn’t surprise Kelly or Kate. Since her mother’s death, things between Joanna and her father had only deteriorated further. She blamed him for her parent’s divorce, and his rapid re-marriage to Cheryl hadn’t helped matters. And then they had had two children, Matt and Sonya, two perfect little angels that Michael Koch could never stop talking about. Two children that were not Joanna and Samantha; two children he had wanted. Of course he loved Joanna and Sam, but there were times when Jo couldn’t help but wonder just how much love her father was capable of sharing at any one time. No, if Sam wanted to let him and his new family be a part of her life, that was fine. Sam was a big girl, but she did not have to give her father the same benefits. “Well that sounds…nice,” Kate offered, her eyes soft and sympathetic. “Yeah I’m sure she’ll have lots of fun,” Kelly added, following Kate’s lead. “Yeah, sure,” Joanna nodded thoroughly unconvinced. “So, what are you doing for Christmas, then?” Kelly frowned.

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“Working a double shift here tomorrow and Christmas day.” “Oh Jo, no,” Kelly pleaded. “You shouldn’t be all alone and working. It’s not healthy.” “Kelly’s right,” Kate chimed in. “Take the next two days off and come with us.” “Yeah!” Kelly beamed. “Everyone’s welcome at the Cheng Family Christmas party, you know, not just for us poor out-of-work college shlubs. Besides there will be all kinds of good food, games, and dancing, oh and the traditional massacre.” “Traditional massacre?” Joanna arched an eyebrow. “Yeah,” Kelly smiled, then noticing the shocked look on Joanna’s face she quickly added, “Oh no, no, not a literal massacre. Sorry, that’s what my cousins and I refer to it as. Pretty much my Dad and his siblings end up so sloshed on alcohol they end in one big verbal tussle. Really though, it’s a hoot to watch, what with the yelling and the duct tape. Think dysfunctional family hijinks in most Christmas movies, like The Ref or Christmas Vacation. That’s my family!” “Um, ok, now I can never watch that movie again without picturing your father’s face, but as tempting as it sounds, guys, I just can’t. It’s too late for me to take time off now and besides we really do need the money. I mean, Sam only has a few years of high school left ahead of her, but you two go, have fun, enjoy the whole Massacre thingy, and bring me back one or two of your mother’s chocolate chip cookies.” Kelly opened her mouth to protest but Kate gave her elbow a gentle squeeze. “You sure you don’t want to come?” “Really, Kate, thank you but no.” “Ok, well, we should be going. Merry Christmas, Jo.” Kate leaned over the counter and gave Joanna a gentle hug. Reluctantly Kelly followed suit. “Ahem,” an annoyed male voice interrupted Kelly and Joanna’s hug. They parted only to find Todd, hands on hips, glaring at them angrily. “Miss Koch, if these customers are through eating here, then I suggest you attend to our other customers!” Joanna glanced around the room. The place was completely empty except for the homeless man dozing in the far back booth. “Uh…sure. Sorry, Todd,” she replied. “Don’t let it happen again,” he boomed, before stalking off to harass the cooks Joanna rolled her eyes. “Have a great time, guys, and Merry Christmas.” She smiled after them, waving until they were out the door and out of sight before finally letting out a big sigh. “So much for a Merry Christmas.”

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~ “Incoming!” Whomp! Joanna found herself face down in the soft grass of the front yard of her house, the stabbing fingers of ice clinging to the back of her head, melting down the collar of her jacket. “Hey, Jo, you ok?” the smiling, laughing face of Nick stared down at her, offering her a hand up. She took it, rising to her feet, feeling a bit disoriented. Tentatively she touched the back of her head, pulling out a large clump of snow. “What the…?” Nick just lost it, breaking into peals of laughter. “You should have seen the look on your face,” he howled. “I wish I had a camera!” “Nick, where did you…? How did you…? Why do I smell fish?” Joanna stammered as she moved passed him and up the front steps of her house. She unlocked the front door still pulling clumps of snow from her hair; Nick, laughing so hard he was nearly crying, followed her inside. Taking off her coat in the kitchen, Joanna shook the remaining pieces out into the sink before turning her annoyed eyes up at Nick. “Ok, Nicholas, where’d you get the snow?” He beamed at her like a little boy, but didn’t say a word. Turning sharply she pulled out a clean glass from a nearby cabinet and began to pour herself a glass of water. “Very pleased with ourselves aren’t we?” “Aww, Jo, come on. Just trying to lighten things up a bit, bring a little Christmas cheer your way.” She stared him down, hands on hips. “So what, your choices were a wreath, or to nail me with a snowball…that smells like fish? This is packing ice from the meat department of the supermarket, isn’t it?” Nick snickered. “Brilliant, don’t you think?” “What I think…” She took a sip of the glass of water. “What I think is that this water is too warm.” She began rummaging through the freezer looking for the ice tray. “You have to admit it was pretty funny,” Nick continued, removing his coat and laying it across the counter next to him.

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“Yeah, but I can think of something funnier,” her voice echoed from within the freezer. Suddenly she whirled, a ball of scraped up freezer frost in hand, but the ball never left her hand. Instead she held it, dripping, gripped tightly in her fist, her body too overcome with laughter to throw it. “Oh…my…god,” she managed to squeak out between snickers. “What?” Nick frowned at her. “What…what are you wearing?” she gasped finally, tossing the frost ball in the sink as it finally began to sting her hand. He followed her gaze downward until it stopped dead center on the reindeer sweater he was wearing. The sweater itself was hunter-green, but covering most of the front chest was a giant fuzzy brown reindeer head, complete with a red pom-pom nose that stuck out of the middle of his chest. Two felt brown antlers crept up towards his shoulders, each decorated with a string of three dimensional little plastic Christmas lights on a black string, so they appeared to wind around the antlers. Best of all was the tiny golden bell that hung just below the reindeer’s neck and actually jingled a little as he shifted his weight. The bell rested right over the fly of his jeans and its location sent Joanna’s laughter into fits of howling. “Alright, alright, enough already,” Nick grimaced, his arms moving across his stomach, which only made the reindeer’s nose stick out more and Joanna laugh harder. “Look, it’s not like I had a choice here! Jacqueline bought it for me and insisted.” Joanna was wiping at the corners of her eyes now, but still she couldn’t tear her gaze from the Christmas monstrosity before her. “Aw, doesn’t widdle Nick look so precious in his widdle Rudolph sweater.” The words had barely left her mouth before she was giggling uncontrollably again. “I don’t have to take this,” he grumbled, snatching up his coat and starting to pull it back on, but his movements only made the little bell ring louder. “Aw, look, you’re jingling his bell,” Joanna howled, unable to resist. With a frown, his cheeks bright red, Nick pulled the coat closed around the sweater and slumped forward, his collar turned up. “Aw,” Joanna pouted, her eyes dancing with laughter. With a smile she stepped towards him and gave him a playful punch in the arm. “Thank, Nick, I really needed that!” She moved past him, picking up the phone receiver, and began dialing. “You want any Chinese food?” she mouthed at him. He shook his head no and waited quietly until she had finished ordering. Hanging up, Joanna turned back towards him. “Dinner plans with Jacqueline tonight?”

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He nodded. “Then I have to go shopping with her. She’s throwing this big Christmas party and I get the honor of pushing the shopping cart. We don’t even have that many friends.” “Oh, be a good fiancée and let her have her fun,” Joanna patted him on the shoulder. “As long as she doesn’t make you wear that thing.” A snicker escaped her lips again and she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Sorry,” she grinned, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing again. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “Oh, right, so do you want to come tomorrow night?” “To the party?” Joanna raised an eyebrow. “Wel,l as much as I’d love to see what Jacqueline does to your apartment and you, I can’t. Working a double shift tomorrow.” “But Jo, it’s Christmas Eve,” he protested. “And Hamburg Etc. is ready to take care of Santa and the hunger needs of his fourlegged friends. Then again, I think that might be bordering on cannibalism for the reindeers to stop in. I’m sure one of our burgers has more than just chicken and cow in it.” She glanced down at her grease-smeared shirt. “Ok, now I definitely need to shower.” She walked Nick to the front door. Turning, he gave her a hug, his jacket spreading wide as he did so. Unable to resist, she grabbed the little pom-pom nose of the deer and squeezed it, making a honking noise as she did. “Honk! Honk!” “Never again,” Nick rolled his eyes, pulling back from her quickly and making the bell ring again. “Guess he likes me,” Joanna teased with a giggle. “But seriously, thanks.” “If you change your mind, the party is at nine p.m. tomorrow night.” “I won’t but thanks for the offer.” “Night.” “Night,” Joanna smiled, leaning in the doorway and watching her friend until he was safely in his car and driving off down the street. She sighed softly and glanced up to the overcast night sky above. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and she’d be spending it all alone. Quietly she closed the front door and locked it before heading upstairs for a shower before her take-out arrived. ~

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It was nearly ten p.m. when she finally finished mopping the linoleum floors and shut off the lights. Todd had held out as long as he could but by 9:00 it had become painfully clear to even him that no one was coming to Hamburg Etc. for Christmas Eve dinner. Grumbling about sales and holiday propaganda about family values, he had ordered all the employees out by 10:00. Pulling the front door closed behind her, Joanna struggled with the antiquated lock for a few moments before she felt it slide into place. The air had grown colder and the small metal key felt like an ice cube in her hand. “Koch!” Todd’s voice barked across the frosted night air. Turning, she watched him stalk towards her from across the parking lot, the headlights of his silver Dodge Stratus nearly blinding her. What had he been doing watching her close up from his car? He had now officially landed himself on her Weirdoes to Avoid list. He stopped a foot in front of her and held out his hand, his eyes glaring down at her from beneath the royal blue ski cap he had pulled low on his head; Rock Creek may have been in Southern California but it could still occasionally get pretty chilly in the winter at night, though the ski hat was probably pushing it. His breath came out as an angry mist shot from his nostrils. “Oh, right,” she pulled her attention back to his open palm and dropped the key into it. “I expect you here tomorrow at seven a.m. on the dot,” he instructed, his tone anything but friendly. Greedily he wrapped his fingers around the key and stuffed it deep into the pockets of his jacket. “And I don’t want to hear any excuses about it being Christmas. You’re on tomorrow morning, so you better very well be here.” She opened her mouth to protest the anger in his voice, but he silenced her with a look. “I know your kind, Koch. Girls who have never had to work a day in their lives. No concept of responsibility, of the expectations of a real job, no, I know you. Flirty little things. Think you can just get by on your looks, well, let me just erase that little fantasy from you mind right now.” He was on a roll now and all she could do was stand there while he berated her about things he had no clue about, and attempt to avoid the shower of spit that was flying from his down turned lips. His pointer finger was shoved uncomfortably close to her face and all she wanted to do was grab it and squeeze. “I don’t like you, Koch, but as long as you show up and stay in line, we won’t have a problem. So be sure your celebrating tonight does not affect your performance tomorrow, is that clear?” He spat the last word into her face with such force she had to physically hug her arms to her sides to keep herself from punching him in the face. Who the hell did he think he was? She took in several deep breaths before she nodded, “Transparently.”

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“Good,” he growled and turning began to stalk back towards his car. “Merry Christmas, Todd,” she called after him in her sweetest little valley-girl voice she could muster. She just couldn’t resist sometimes. She smiled to herself as she watched him pause momentarily, his back to her, his shoulders hunching forward, before wrenching open his car door, climbing in, and slamming it behind him. With a rev of the engine, she watched him screech out of the parking lot. “Someone has been channeling the Grinch lately,” she muttered with a sigh. Zipping up her leather coat, she secured her scarf around her neck and began the long walk home. She walked in silence, the sounds of her sneakers barely making a whisper on the sidewalk. A cool breeze began to blow, and she shivered slightly in the frosty air. It was definitely a bit colder than usual, but then again when did the weather ever do what it was supposed to? Stuffing her hands as deep as she could into the pockets of her coat, she turned her attention to the houses as she passed them by. Nearly every house had wreaths on the front door or lights twinkling between the branches of bushes and shrubs. Here and there a pink flamingo or lawn gnome had been decorated with sprigs of holly or a Santa’s hat, and even the houses that must belong to people of other faiths displayed candles or other festive knickknacks in the windows. Some houses had even tinted the edges of their windows with spray-paint frost, giving the illusion of winter to the otherwise green surroundings. Yep, that was Southern California in the wintertime for you. As she turned the corner, she paused, staring in through the big picture window of a large house directly across from her. There was a party going on, and a large group of people stood laughing and talking around an elegantly decorated Christmas tree. A woman walked around with a silver tray passing out cookies, glasses of wine, and what Joanna could only assume to be small mugs of eggnog. She watched as little girls dressed in ribbons and lace danced to a man playing a piano next to the tree and little boys chased each other around and around the room. It was like a scene out of a Christmas card, and for the first time in weeks, Joanna felt the full weight of her mother’s death in her heart. “So this is Christmas,” she whispered to the night wind before bowing her head and continuing on. She moved without knowing it, her feet leading her, her mind a flutter with thoughts and dreams and memories passed. Long forgotten were Todd’s words or her muses on what kind of a childhood he could have possibly had to turn him into the creep he was now. No, instead happy memories of Christmases long past, before her mother’s death, before her parent’s divorce, all of them danced like stardust before her eyes. Here she was, barely in her twenties, and those memories seemed lifetimes ago; it wasn’t fair. All that she had lost over the years, constantly falling in with the wrong crowd as far as her

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parents were concerned, all the things she had done wrong, all of them eating away at her family relationships. But there had been good things, too, things that reminded her of how much her mother loved her, and those memories, those feelings, that love had prompted her to place her dreams on hold, dropping out of college, to stay home and care for her mother and raise her little sister. Yet for all she had fought so hard to control and protect, things had still happened and changed that she had had no say in; things she could not fix with a late night bedtime story or a well-placed ‘thank you’ and a hug. And no matter how badly she wanted to take it all back, it didn’t change the fact that her mother was dead and her father was still not there for her. He had left them all long ago. Her problems in school had just been the final straw with him, and it had taken her years to stop blaming herself and place it where it had always belonged, on his infidelity. Like a storm surge within her, all the hurt, all the anger, all the frustration broke over her like a tidal wave and she felt tears running hot down her face. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. It was Christmas and her family should all be together, happy, but instead they were fractured, separated, strained, and her mother…her mother was gone forever. She let tears fall until there was none left. Wiping at her face until every last drop was gone; she turned and took in her surroundings. She stood in the middle of the Rock Creek cemetery, a full moon shimmering brightly in the cloudless sky above. “Wandering all alone on Christmas Eve, luv,” his voice moved like warm water over her skin, making a shiver run up the length of her spine. “Santa ain’t gonna come until you’re tucked away in that little bed of yours.” Turning she looked up into the cool blue eyes of the slightly older British man behind her. He stared down at her, that cocky smile of his smeared wide across his face, his arms full of branches and pieces of wood. She frowned, staring down at the wood. He caught her glance and his smile grew even larger. “Bit nippy out tonight, don’t you think?” He nodded towards the wood with his chin. She didn’t reply. He looked at her then, really looked and quickly noticed the redness around her eyes; she’d been crying. He frowned. She’d done enough crying and suffering for a lifetime, as far as he was concerned. It was Christmas, after all, even she deserved a few moments of peace, and without thinking he decided he owed it to her to find out what was wrong. He moved up beside her. “Mind helping me with these?” Before she could answer, he dropped a few branches into her arms and continued on his way back to the abandoned shed at the back of the cemetery that he had been squatting in since being kicked out of his last four apartments. Not good with bills, he’d claimed. She knew it had more to do with the fact that all he wanted to do was be a musician and refused to put in the nine to five work to earn him some money for expenses. She would have offered him a room in her house, but considering their

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history and her mother’s feelings on the matter, it didn’t feel right, even if her mother was no longer around. It would have still felt like a betrayal in some way. But that was neither here not there at the moment, and given little choice in the matter of the wood, she reluctantly followed him, the two of them moving through the moonlight and shadows in silence. Every now and then he tried to catch her eye, shoot her a little smile, but she just stared at the ground in front of her, moving one foot in front of the next, nothing more than a robot. “Home sweet home,” he mumbled dryly and with a loud creak, he opened the door to the shed and moved inside, Joanna still on his heels. Suddenly he heard her let out a gasp behind him, but still he kept moving, dropping the wood in a pile in the corner. Pulling off his long weather-worn leather coat and tossing it on the recliner pushed off to one side, he turned and smiled at the look of utter surprise that lay wide open across her face. For her own part Joanna couldn’t believe her eyes. The one-roomed shed was completely transformed. Candles of all shapes and sizes peppered every ledge, burning away in silver holders encrusted with glitter and ivy, casting the room in soft, golden hues. Long branches of pine needles adorned with holly, berries, acorns, and nuts hung along the walls, while garlands of greenery and cream-colored ribbons wound about the place. A small Christmas tree sat in the corner, covered in soft white lights and elegant and ornate decorations. A soft red crushed-velvet couch sat in the middle of the room and even a small fire burned away within the belly of a small cast-iron wood-burning stove opposite the tree. The soft smells of Christmas, pine, sugar, mint, and nutmeg, floated about her like a silvery mist. It was like stepping into a Victorian movie about Christmas. “It’s beautiful,” she finally breathed, turning her gaze to meet Chris’s. “How did you…? Why did you...?” “A bit fancy, I suppose,” he grinned back. “But Christmas has always been a favorite holiday of mine. Strange, I suppose, considering the whole social outcast thing, but it’s something to do.” “Where did you find all this stuff?” She was regaining her focus now, and gently shut the door to the shed behind her and fully entered the shabby, wooden room. Slowly she took it all in. “I mean, some of these ornaments are ridiculously old,” she reached out tentatively and touched a hand-painted glass bulb. It felt so delicate and brittle in her hand that she pulled her fingertips away quickly, afraid of breaking it. Dropping the wood down with the pile, she turned to face him again. “Most of the older stuff’s from me mum. She always loved Christmas, so I kept bits and pieces, but most of it’s broken by now. Got the furniture and stove from the dump; amazin’ what people throw away these days. Just in the habit of putting it all up, I suppose.”

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“Aw, widdle Chrissie misses his mommy on Christmas.” The words were out of her mouth in a heartbeat, her initial shock completely faded away. “I’m not seeing you making big with the family party either, darlin’.” As soon as the words left his lips he wanted to pull them back. Her whole body stiffened her face awash with emotion. “I’m sorry, luv, that was a low blow,” he stared down at floor in front of him. “Perhaps,” she replied, causing him to glance back up at her, “but not completely unfair.” She sighed heavily and started to move towards the door, the moment broken. “What’s your rush?” he moved a few feet towards her. “Chris, I’ve been working all day. All I want to do is go home, climb into bed, and sleep.” “And waste a perfectly good Christmas Eve alone in your dark room? I don’t think so.” His words took her by surprise, and before she knew it, he had taken her coat and she was sitting curled on the couch, shoes off, and the soft feel of the velvet cooling her aching muscles. Closing her eyes, she rested her head back against the back of the couch. It felt so good just to sit. She felt the cushions move a bit as he sat down beside her. “You know you don’t have to do this.” “And what’s that?” He was watching her, his head resting in his hand, the elbow of his arm resting on the top of the back of the couch. “This,” she opened her eyes and sat forward, her hands gesturing to the room around her. “I don’t know what Kelly or Nick told you, but I’m doing just fine. I don’t need you to give me a Christmas. I don’t need a babysitter for that matter, either.” “Not too full of ourselves, are we, luv,” he offered her his cocky smile yet again. “None of this is for you. Believe it or not, I would have done this regardless of wherever I was right now.” “Please,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re so far from the sentimental type.” “Point made and already addressed,” he dropped his hands into his lap and peered down at her, his head tilted to the side. “I know you don’t believe I’m capable of love or sentiment or anything really outside of the thieving screw-up you and rest of the bloody world thinks I am…” She opened her mouth to interrupt but he held his hand up, pacifying her.

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“Ok, ok, yeah, I know you don’t think I’m that hopeless and our whole history changes some things,” he continued, his brows growing slightly dark at the allusions of happier times lost. “But I am. I might be a selfish, callous wanker from time to time, but love and memories and sentiment, that’s all blood and bone, luv, and even I have plenty of that.” She stared up at him, suddenly captivated by the intensity in his eyes. There seemed to be so much swimming there, just beneath the surface, emotions or something deep writhing to get out. But just as quickly as she had seen it, it vanished, and the cool, steely gaze she had come to know so well slid back into place. Yet somehow he looked different. She’d known him since he’d moved to the States in high school and she’d seen him at his best and worst; she’d even been a part of the lows and the highs. She knew him better than anyone else, and despite it all, Chris still remained an enigma to her. Shouldn’t he have been just like all the other men in her life? Even his brother Aiden, whom she’d dated briefly, had been more like the others; why not Chris? “I’m sorry,” she suddenly whispered, startling him. “It’s been a long day and I guess I’m just not in the Christmas mood. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that.” “Nothing doing, luv,” he smiled at her, reaching out and gently pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. Impulsively she reached up, her hand cupping his, bringing it to her lips. Just being close to him brought so many old feelings to the surface, and more than anything she wanted to feel, to forget her pain. And he could do that; Chris had always been good at chasing her demons away. Only problem was that with him, they never seemed to stay away for long. Her eyes stared into his as her lips began to gently caress the skin of his palm. She worked her way over the palm of his hand and down each fingertip before moving back up his hand to his wrist. Her lips pressed harder against his wrist, over the delicate blue veins of his pulse point. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of pleasure, the feeling of her lips like silk on his skin. When he opened them again, her face was close and without another thought, he leaned forward and captured her mouth with his own. Her lips parted and their kiss deepened, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her up to him. She moved her hands up the smooth front of his red silk shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons, pulling the fabric from the waist of his pants and pushing it back from the smooth chiseled muscles of his chest. She slid her hands around his sides beneath the fabric of his shirt, and began to lean backwards, pulling him down on top of her onto the couch. Her hands moved in circles, kneading and playing with the smooth skin of his back, sides and chest. His kisses were like electric shocks to her, his lips chasing away all the thoughts from her mind; she was drowning in him, and she welcomed the heat from his lips, his hands, his body as it washed over her, taking away her pain, giving her something real to feel. His hands began to work their way beneath her shirt, his thumbs

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smoothing over the small dimple of her belly button when suddenly her stomach let out a deep, long growl. They both stopped mid-kiss, lips still pressed together, hands frozen in place, and both sets of eyes wide open, staring into each other’s. Then they both broke into laughter. “Guess someone’s hungry,” Chris chuckled low and deep, kissing her one last time before withdrawing himself from her. She protested, trying to pull him back but he slid out of her grasp with ease and got to his feet. “How’s about something festive? How’s pizza sound?” She stared up at him as he began to re-button his shirt, the smooth red fabric slowly hiding the white alabaster skin of his chest. “Pizza…festive?” He just smiled at her, that obnoxiously knee-melting cocky smile. “Fine,” she feigned a pout as he headed off to place the order. “Why couldn’t you have kept quiet?” She poked her stomach with irritation. Twenty minutes later, the two of them were standing outside a small stucco colored ranch across from the entrance to the cemetery. “Do you have to do this every time you order out?” She was cold again and began to hop up and down on her heels for warmth. “Sorry, darlin’, but asking a bloke to deliver a pizza to an abandoned shed in the middle of a cemetery is a bit more than the phrase delivery encompasses.” “How much longer?” She whined, her stomach growling again in support of her complaints. He shot her a semi-irritated look and just pointed. Following his finger she watched as a small red nondescript car with the generic plastic pizza sign illuminated on the roof rounded the corner and headed towards them. “Is it a requirement that you have to drive a beat up red car of some form to deliver pizza?” She let the question hang unanswered in the air, as the car stopped before them and a pimple-faced high schooler leapt to the curb. Chris left her standing halfway up the walk while he took the pizza and paid the driver. He stayed standing on the curb until the boy had driven out of sight before turning back to her, “Coming?” “So what kind did you get, anyway?” Joanna followed him into the shed again, dropped her coat and scarf down on the recliner and made herself comfortable on the couch

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again. Chris dragged out a low card table and set it up in front of her, between the couch and his small black and white TV. He handed her a white paper plate as he dropped down beside her. Turning the box to face them, he opened the lid. “Pepperoni and green pepper,” he smiled proudly. As the steam from the pizza faded, Joanna was surprised to find that the pepperonis and green peppers had been cut and arranged to look like sprigs of holly. “Festive…pizza,” she stammered. “How did you…you know what, I’m just going to say ‘thank you’ and leave it at that.” She shot Chris an amused smile before hungrily diving in. They devoured the first few slices in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. For her own part, Joanna was surprised to find herself enjoying the evening so far. Her usual encounters with Chris lately had been anything but cordial, not quiet comfortable, just sitting about doing nothing. He knew her better than anyone and with everything that had happened with her mother, she oddly resented him for getting her so well. He made her eager to be vulnerable, to let things out she was still holding in. She may be able to hide them from her other friends, but she couldn’t hide them from Chris. So lately she’d been lashing out and using him as her personal punching bag. She glanced up at him, watching him finish off his third slice before snagging another one. As much as she despised herself, when she was alone, for what she shared with him, for what she allowed him to do to her, to make her feel, more than anything she had started to feel guilty about what she was doing to him. She knew he still loved her; he’d probably never really stopped. She knew she hadn’t really, but oh, the baggage. So instead of confronting it, of opening her heart to him again, she’d chosen to use him, to berate and belittle him to make herself feel better. What she had been doing soon became painfully clear to herself and him as well, but still there were moments that she felt a change in him, a sort of hope that perhaps she could come to love him again. He had changed, after all, and was nothing but a faded shadow of the petty criminal social misfit the abusive hands of his father had molded him into. He deserved more than this. She nibbled her pizza, guilt weighing heavy on her mind. Damn it! “Never seem to find peace, do we?” He was looking at her, and she suddenly realized she’d been spacing out; so lost in thought that she hadn’t even realized he had flipped on the TV. A children’s choir was belting out a lovely rendition of Silent Night. She blinked at him. “Peace,” he repeated, gesturing to the TV. “So many carols about peace but it never seems to come. Each year a whole new bloody song and still we all keep tearing ourselves apart.” Her eyes moved from the television screen to his face. He was staring hard at the images of the children singing. Were they having a moment? Was Chris actually trying to have a deep meaningful conversation with her?

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“Not really in our nature to ever really be happy, I suppose,” she finally replied heavily. He glanced over at her carefully, her eyes trained on the TV now. “Maybe it’s something we aren’t meant to feel in this lifetime.” Her eyes met his as his meaning became poignantly clear. She sighed, her gaze falling to her hands that sat in her lap. She stared without seeing at her fingers as she scratched at one of her cuticles. “Don’t really remember what that feels like anymore to be perfectly honest, peacefulness and happiness, that is. At first that’s all I could remember after she died, all the good times. But now, all I feel is how harsh and bright everything here has become, how far from that feeling of safety and peace I used to have, that I never realized I actually had at the time. So I’ve forced myself to stop trying to remember in order to just get through the day, and now, now there is very little I can recall. Those bits and pieces that I do remember feel nothing more than a dream. Ironic, I suppose, all those nights trying to make sense of it and clinging to those memories in order to get by, to sleep, and now I can’t even reflect on them as a reminder because I seem to have forgotten them.” “And things here have gotten so hard. Between trying to be strong for Sam and my father trying to come back into her life, and trying to pay the bills…even small moments don’t hold any sense of real comfort anymore. Don’t get me wrong, a laugh or a hug still helps, but then they end and it’s back to reality. It’s all just hard and sharp, and I have nothing but fading memories to turn back to. I’m so afraid that eventually they will become completely lost to me.” He watched her carefully. More than anything he wanted to pull her to him, to take her pain away. He could feel the ache burning away in his heart, searing the blood in his veins. If only he could give her what she needed, what she deserved. If only his love could be something real to her, something more than just a good shag to chase the pain away and numb her for a little while. Never had he felt so frustrated with himself, so inadequate, and all he could do was sit there and watch her. “And everyone wants me to be fine. Kelly, Kate, Nick, all they want is for all this to be over, for me to be over it. Sometimes I feel like they treat it like it’s a cut or a scrape. Just bandage it up, Joanna, let it heal, and bam, you’ll be good as new. But I can feel it and I know it won’t work like that. Someday, yeah, I’m sure I’ll wake up and feel like I used to, but it will take time, and I’m starting to feel like each day that passes, they’re standing there watching, holding their breath, expecting a change.” “They’re just worried…” “I know that!” She cut him off with a cry, slamming her fists into her lap. “God knows I know that! And I know they feel bad, but sometimes I feel like they are so focused on their own guilt that it has become about them now. That I’m wrong for not feeling better by now, that I’m just dragging out their guilt, punishing them in a way.”

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She was suddenly looking up into his eyes. Her own eyes were big, luminous, and filled with so many painful emotions that he had to remember to swallow. He badly wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how. “That probably sounds so selfish and stupid,” she cracked a sarcastic smile, staring back down at her hands. “Nah,” he shook his head, his hand coming up and turning her chin to face him. “Now you listen here. You’ve been through more than anyone could ever begin to imagine. They may be a part of your life but they haven’t had to live it, they don’t know what you’ve felt, what you’ve seen, what you’ve been through, and to say that anything you think or feel sounds stupid is the stupid part. You’re still human, just like them. So you go on and feel however you want for as long as you want with no apologies to no one. They’ll worry, they’ll feel guilty but that’s their cross to bear, not yours. If they truly love you, Joanna, they’ll allot you the time and the patience to get through this in your own time.” She stared up into his blue eyes, his hand still cupping her chin, his fingers caressing her cheek. A tear fell freely from her eye, but still she did not move her gaze. Had it been so long since she’d been given understanding like this? She tried to recall, but her mind wouldn’t work. He broke from the gaze first, awkwardly, timidly, his hand dropping from her chin. She blinked in surprise, his movements far from the characteristic cocky arrogance and unabashed pride that were hallmarks of the Chris she had come to know. Had she touched a nerve? But before she could press the issue, he got to his feet without a word and began flipping through the television stations. Suddenly Rudolph the RedNosed Reindeer came on. He turned to look down at her, “Good?” He nodded towards the TV. She nodded back, content on dropping the issue, and he settled back down next to her. They watched most of it in a comfortable silence, Joanna leaning into him just enough that she felt his body react, his chest and shoulder accepting the weight of her head without protest. He looked down at the auburn head beside him and smiled. This was turning out to be a most unusual Christmas. “We used to watch this every year,” she finally confessed as Hermie, Yukon, and Rudolph arrived on the Island of Misfit Toys, “Sam, Mom, and Me. One of our Christmas traditions. I can’t tell you how many times Sam used to ask Mom how come the Doll was on the island. I mean, she doesn’t seem to have anything wrong with her, not like the Charlie-in-the-box instead of being a Jack-in-the-box, or the cowboy riding an ostrich instead of a horse, or even the train with square wheels. Every year she’d ask ‘But why is the Doll there?’ And every year Mom would make up something new about her dress or her hair or something. To tell you the truth, I always thought it was

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more of a psychological thing. I just think the Doll didn’t believe that she deserved love. I mean, they did say that unloved toys were brought to the island, too.” He had been watching the show with his eyes half closed, enjoying the warmth of her body beside his, the feel of her back rising and falling with each breath, but her words caused him to stiffen, and he sat up straight and looked down at her. Instinctively his arm curled around her shoulders, his fingers playing with the tips of her short auburn hair. “I think the reason she was there doesn’t mean a bloody thing.” She stirred then, her head tilting, leaning so she could look up at him, a frown planted squarely across her face. He could see the first hints of irritation and anger boiling at the edges of her eyes. Then again, he had very bluntly shot down a personal thought of hers without as much as a modicum of consideration. Before she could unleash the inevitable tirade he could see brimming he placed a staying hand against her cheek and continued, “It doesn’t matter why the doll was there, darlin’, because in the end she found what she needed. So she ended up on some forsaken ice flow, but it was only temporary. In the meantime, she found that she wasn’t so alone in the world, that there were plenty of other misfits out there who could relate at least in part to her and what she was feeling. Time, luv, is the great equalizer for us all. All things are revealed with time. It’s deciding what to do, then, when we finally understand. That is the real question to ponder.” She moved back from him then, her eyes staring up into his. He sat back against the arm of the couch, his face confused, unable to tell if she was still upset with him or not. Without a word she rose and moved toward the television set, his eyes following her as she switched it off, leaving the shed illuminated by only the soft golden light of the few candles that were still burning. Again she sat down beside him, her voice soft in the deep silence that they had suddenly been plunged into. “Thank you.” He simply stared at her, unsure of what to do or say. She smiled slightly at the blatantly awkward juvenile look on his face. It had to be the first time that she had ever seen Chris at a loss for words. Tentatively she reached up and touched the side of his face. “Thank you, Christopher,” she breathed again as she leaned forward and kissed him. Her actions had been impulsive. She knew he wanted her, and after everything that evening, she wanted nothing more than him, but not in the usual selfish way she too often took when it came to him. No, this time she had opened herself up, shared with him, let it all go, and let the chips fall where they may. No more using and abusing him. Maybe they didn’t have some great sweeping romantic relationship waiting for them down the road, but maybe there was something there to build on? She owed him that

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much, to at least be honest with herself about her feelings for him, no matter how confused they might be. The kiss was chaste, gentle at first but as she wrapped her arms around him, she felt his shoulders loosen and his lips eagerly pressed back with desire. Parting her lips she welcomed his heat and again she pulled him to her, down to the soft velvet of the couch beneath her. Again her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, his own fingers moving in smooth circles across the skin of her stomach, but there was no growling stomach to distract. And by the soft glow of the fading candlelight they made love, soft and slow and gentle, far from their old destructive play. Lost in the comfort of one another, their shadows cast long arching shapes across the smooth wood of the shed walls until the body rush overcame them both in one long surge of passion and they lay exhausted in one another’s arms. When she opened her eyes again, the small room around her was awash in the long shadows of early morning, tinged here and there by the soft gray of first light. The candles had long gone out and only a few orange coals sputtered away in the iron-stove nearby. The chill of the early hour bit at her naked shoulders, and she shivered uncontrollably. Chris’s body moved beneath her, his face frowning slightly in his sleep. For a few moments, she lay frozen on top of him, watching him sleep. She had never watched him sleep before, never watched his eyes flickering beneath closed eyelids as he dreamed. For all the world he looked like nothing more than just another young man asleep, dreaming until daylight called him back to the world of the living. But he was anything but a typical man, and the reality of it seemed to cast the smooth chiseled features of his face and body in a sallow unworldly light. What were they doing? Silently she rolled off of him and began to get dressed. From the length of the light stretching out from beneath the shed door, she guessed it was about six a.m.; she had dragged herself home from one wild party or another at that hour enough times to know its familiar look. She was due at work by seven, so she at least had some time to go home and get changed. She glanced back at Chris’s sleeping, naked body on the couch. She had never stayed the night before. She was concentrating on tying her shoes when he finally awoke. “What’s the rush?” His voice was groggy, still heavy with sleep but he was sitting up slightly, his eyes watching her lazily. “I have to get to work,” she mumbled, suddenly embarrassed to be caught sneaking out like she was, as if she was taking the walk of shame. He watched her finish tying her shoes in silence before rising to his feet. Without as much as a glance at his discarded clothing, he padded barefoot past her and over to the tree behind. His bare hip brushed against her body as he moved past her and she dropped her eyes from him quickly, embarrassed and acutely aware of his nakedness. He couldn’t resist offering one of his cocky smiles at her obvious discomfort. Quickly

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she began pulling on her jacket and scarf while his back was to her, intending to make as quick and graceful an exit as she could muster. But just as she was reaching for the door, his hand grabbed her arm and he turned her to face him. Dangling freely before her eyes was one of the antique ornaments from the tree. It was an angel figurine, soft and delicate. The angel was dressed in a long flowing blue gown, her long brown hair cascading in waves over her pale shoulders and down her back. Her wings were curled slightly, inwardly, towards her body as if afraid to unfurl, afraid to fly, while the angel’s hands were clutched tightly before her in a silent prayer. Her face, though faded, carried a sadness about it, but her eyes were focused on some unforeseen light above which had begun to cast the top of her head and face in a soft hopeful light. “Merry Christmas, Joanna,” Chris whispered, a smile spread broadly across his lips. Taking the ornament in her hands she turned it over and over again in her palm. It was so delicate, so beautiful. “I can’t take this,” she finally replied, looking back up into his eyes. “Yes, you can. Wouldn’t be Christmas now, without at least a little present, now would it?” She opened her mouth to protest again, but the look on his face told her it was pointless. “Thank you,” she offered meekly. He nodded with satisfaction. “And don’t be worrying about all this. I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone.” “Chris…” she started, reaching out and touching his face, but he stepped back from her. “You’re going to be late for work.” She lingered for a moment longer, emotions and words bubbling up inside of her, but for all her effort, she couldn’t seem to give voice to them. All she could do was stare into the blue of his eyes and hope he understood. Finally turning, she opened the shed door and stepped out into the morning sunlight. An hour later she stood alone behind the shining counter of the Rock Creek Hamburg Etc. Todd had arrived a good ten minutes after she had, much to his chagrin, but sadly Pete, the new grill boy, had been a whole 2 minutes late and Todd was happily unwrapping his first Christmas present--a long, berating tirade at poor Pete in his back office. Only the soft whirl of the heating vents and sizzling of the grill in back broke the otherwise perfect silence of Joanna’s station up front. Alone with her thoughts Joanna found her mind drifting back over the past night’s events and the small angel figurine that now sat on her desk at home. Of course it had

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just been another night of cold comfort with Chris, but yet somehow if felt different, almost meaningful, and for all her guilt, she couldn’t help but feel grateful to him. Maybe it was the fact that it had been Christmas, the first one without her mother, or maybe it had been more than just that. Regardless of everything, he had given her a Christmas in his own way, and despite the confusing dynamics of their relationship or lack thereof, it had been one of the few happy, safe moments she had known in months. Chris had listened to her and really heard her, really tried to feel her pain, and through it all he had offered her only love and sanctuary. She felt a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth and a renewed warmth within her. Maybe he was right, maybe she just needed to stop thinking so much and wait for the questions to find her. Maybe she just needed to give it time and stop worrying about everyone else. Again her mind drifted back to the angel ornament. She took in a deep breath and let it out, feeling some of the weight she’d been carrying around with her leave, and she smiled brightly. She could do it; she would do it. And for the first time in a long time she felt hope. “Merry Christmas, Joanna,” she whispered aloud.

The End

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THIN ICE Ashlee Hopkins

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“Nick!” Caitlyn squealed, giggling when he threw another snowball in her direction. Ducking at the last moment, she quickly retaliated, smiling in satisfaction when the snow hit his shoulder, causing him to look up at her with an indignant expression. “Truce!” she called, her eyes widening when she saw him kneel down to gather some more snow. “I don’t think so, baby,” he said, smiling as he stood up with the compacted snowball. “You’re in for it.” Caitlyn laughed as she turned and ran away from him, glancing over her shoulder after a moment, her smile fading away when she didn’t see Nick anywhere behind her. Slowing to a stop, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked around in confusion. Turning around to better scan the land around her, she took in the blanket of snow that covered every surface, trying to get a glimpse of him. Looking in the direction of the fading sunset, she became mesmerized as the rays of light played off the ice that clung to the trees. “Gotcha!” Landing with an oomph on the ground, Caitlyn looked indignantly at the man on top of her before her eyes widened when he let the snowball lightly fall from his hand to land on her forehead. “Hey!” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “What did I ever do to you?” “Do I have to remind you that you nearly gave me a black eye a few minutes ago?” Nick asked, smiling down at her. “It’s not my fault you turned around,” she said with a slight pout on her bottom lip. “You threw a ball of ice at me,” he said, standing up and helping her to her feet. “It was supposed to hit your coat,” she replied, thumping the thick material of his winter coat. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist. Relaxing against him for a moment, Caitlyn closed her eyes when she felt his hands gently run through her chestnut hair. “We really should get back inside,” she murmured contentedly, feeling the icy air running over her face. “Yeah,” Nick said with a sigh. “Guess we should.” Pulling back to look at him, Caitlyn gave him a dazzling smile. “You’ll get to play later,” she said, shivering when he leaned in close to brush his lips over hers.

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“Promise?” he asked in a husky voice. “I promise,” she said, pulling him closer to her. Sighing as he kissed her forehead, Nick took her hand in his, leading her toward the house. “I’m surprised no one else wanted to come outside,” she said, resting her head against Nick’s shoulder as they continued to walk. “Guess they were smarter than we were,” Nick joked. “Or not as interesting,” Caitlyn countered, raising an eyebrow as she looked up at her boyfriend. “Let’s just hope they’ve been productive and have some hot chocolate inside.” Opening the door of the large house, Nick held it open for Caitlyn, giving her an admiring smirk as she walked by. “I know you’re not checking me out when I’ve got fifty pounds of clothes on,” she teased, glancing at him over her shoulder. “My own little snow-bunny,” he replied, looking her up and down, enjoying the way she flushed under his gaze. Caitlyn was about to respond when her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway with two steaming mugs in her hands. “There she is,” Nick said with a smile, taking off his coat and gloves before approaching Laura. “Like mother, like daughter,” he said, kissing his girlfriend’s mom on the cheek before accepting the mug she offered him. Taking a sip, he closed his eyes as the warm liquid soothed his throat. “Perfect,” he said. “Glad you like it, Nick,” Laura said, handing her daughter the other mug. “Thanks, Mom,” Caitlyn said, waiting until the other woman disappeared into the kitchen before swatting Nick on the backside. “Flirting with my mom?” she teased, knowing how Nick thought of Laura as his own mother. “I wouldn’t have to if you’d make me hot chocolate,” he replied, suppressing the smile on his lips when she moved to swat at him again. “Hey, now, that’s abuse.” “From little bitty me?” she asked, gesturing to herself with an innocent expression on her face. “I don’t think so.”

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Taking her hand in his, Nick led her through the house, avoiding the running children who were chasing each other around the Christmas tree. Tugging on her hand, he pulled Caitlyn to him, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Your room?” Glancing at the adults who were dispersed around the room, discussing everything from international politics to the Christmas tree lights, Caitlyn nodded. Silently slipping up the stairs, the couple moved into Caitlyn’s old room, closing the door behind them. Nick suppressed the smile on his lips, but she could still see the amusement in his eyes. “You’ve been up here before,” she reminded him, walking over to the bed and plopping down on the pink comforter. Grabbing a stuffed teddy bear from the pile on her pillows, she hugged it to her chest, making her appear younger than she was. “Yes, I have,” Nick finally replied, clearing his throat to keep from chuckling. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t look like a cotton-candy machine exploded in here.” Briefly glancing around the room, Caitlyn took in the pink and white walls, the pink cushion that rested on the window seat, and pink carpet, narrowing her eyes slightly when she turned back to him. “Give me a break; I was a kid when I decorated this room.” “You’re saying your tastes have improved?” he asked with a smile, slowly approaching the bed and moving over her until she was forced to lie down. “You’ve seen my apartment,” she said, her voice dropping as her eyes darkened. “More than once.” “Yeah,” he said, brushing a kiss along her neck. “I miss it,” he muttered against her skin before resuming the gentle kisses down the column of her throat. “The quiet… The familiarity…” Trailing off when the door burst open with a loud slam against the wall, Nick lifted up to look in Caitlyn’s eyes. “The privacy.” Giggling softly, she lightly pushed against his chest until he was moved into a sitting position as a chorus of Eww’s filled the air from the kids who were standing at the door. “You wouldn’t have to say ew if you’d learn to knock,” Caitlyn said in a reproachful voice, looking at her nieces and nephews. “Supper’s ready,” they chimed, each with their own innocent voices and smiles. “We’ll be down in a minute,” Caitlyn said, rolling her eyes in amusement. Watching the kids walk out of the room, she followed closely behind, shutting the door behind them before turning to face Nick. “When is Christmas, again?” she asked, leaning her head against the flat surface.

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“Tomorrow,” he said in an exhausted voice. “When do we get to leave the time-warp that is my family?” “Forty-two hours and counting,” he said with a smile. “Hey!” she cried indignantly, earning a strange look from Nick. “What?” “I’m the one who gets to be irritated with my family, not you,” she teased, moving forward to straddle his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We’ve been here for two weeks, baby,” he said as his head fell to her shoulder, closing his eyes when her hand began to tenderly caress the nape of his neck. “I think it’s safe to say that your family is my family.” Tensing up slightly at the description, Caitlyn leaned back with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “We should get downstairs,” she said, nodding as if she was reinforcing her statement. “I don’t have to sit at the kiddie table tonight, do I?” he asked, standing up with Caitlyn still wrapped securely in his arms. “But you look so cute sitting there with all the kids asking you questions.” “I think they’re questioned out by now.” “Nah,” Caitlyn disagreed with a grin, sliding down his body to land on the floor, earning a groan from Nick. “They’re kids – they always think of something else to say.” Sighing heavily, Nick looked at the ceiling for a moment. “You’re the little one. Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to be sitting there?” “Come on,” she said, tugging on his hand. “It’ll be over before you know it. You’ll see.” ~ “Now, was that so bad?” Caitlyn whispered as they followed her parents into the living room. “My back is going to permanently be in the shape of that chair,” he said, stretching his sore muscles.

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“You’ll be fine,” she said, leaning into his side as they walked into the main room of the house. Joining the rest of Caitlyn’s family as they sat around the Christmas tree, Caitlyn waited until Nick sat in a recliner before sitting in his lap. Smiling when Nick gently kissed her temple, she rolled her eyes from the chorus of ewws that came from the kids for the second time that night. “Okay, you all know the drill,” Caitlyn’s father Robert said as he stood up. “One present for each of the kids on Christmas Eve, and then we save everything else for the greedfest in the morning.” Watching as the kids each scurried for their Christmas Eve present, Caitlyn leaned more heavily against Nick. “See?” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “This is what makes everything worth it.” Nick smiled, watching the children tear into the wrapping paper, listening to excited squeals or appreciative murmurs. “Thank you, Uncle Nick!” Both Nick and Caitlyn turned in surprise at the comfortable use of the word ‘Uncle’ that Caitlyn’s niece Karen said with such ease. “You’re welcome,” he said, looking at Caitlyn in confusion. “It’s the Barbie I wanted,” Karen continued with an excited squeal. Leaning close to whisper in her ear, Nick had to suppress a smile as he spoke. “You put my name on a card for a Barbie Doll?” “In my defense, if you had gone Christmas shopping with me, this wouldn’t have happened,” she replied, kissing the tip of his nose. “You do realize that I probably just lost some points with your brothers,” he said, gesturing to the three men across the room. “Nah,” she said, shaking her head. “They have daughters, they understand.” Watching the children playing with their new toys, Caitlyn shivered when Nick subtly kissed her neck. “Think we can sneak away now?” he asked, glancing at the front door with a hopeful look in his eyes. Looking around the room to see everyone distracted, Caitlyn nodded. “Where are we going?”

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“I thought we’d go for a walk,” Nick replied. “Is that okay?” “Let’s go.” Quietly walking out of the room, Caitlyn smiled in gratitude when Nick helped her put on her winter coat. Quickly pulling on his own, he led her out of the house, holding her hand in his as they walked down the icy front path. “Nice night,” she murmured, looking up at the sky as she rested her head against Nick’s shoulder. “It is,” he agreed with a nod. Leading her through the more wooded area of the property, Nick could see Caitlyn smile when she realized where they were going. “I didn’t pack them,” she said, looking up at him. “It’s my vacation.” “I know,” he replied, wrapping his arm around her back. “But it’s a nice night.” Walking in silence for a few minutes, Caitlyn sighed in contentment when the small pond came into view. Slowly walking forward until she reached the edge of it, Caitlyn hesitantly stepped onto the thick ice, moving toward the middle of the pond. “Feeling a little nostalgic?” Nick asked, carefully following her, taking measures not to slip on the slick surface. “A little,” she said, turning around to face him. “It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here.” “You’re used to the rink,” he said in understanding, sliding forward slightly. “Careful,” Caitlyn said, her eyes widening, afraid that he would fall. “I don’t want to have to go through the pains of finding a new partner.” “I’m touched by your concern,” he said dryly. “Took me long enough to train you; I’m not handing you off to anyone new,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I think I’ve done my fair share of training,” she replied, suggestively raising an eyebrow. “Dream on,” Nick said, chuckling to himself. Caitlyn frowned when his smile faded, a distant look in his eyes. “Something wrong?” she asked. “Caity, we’ve…we’ve been together for a long time,” he said, looking into her eyes.

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“Together together or skating together?” she asked, feeling the need to lighten the mood between them. “Both,” he said with a nervous smile. “Is this just a random observation?” she asked, tilting her head to the side to study him. “Something like that.” Seeing his hand move into her view, Caitlyn frowned as she turned her attention to what he was holding. Her eyes widened when she saw the diamond ring nestled in black velvet. “Nick, what’re you doing?” she asked breathlessly. “Thought that would be fairly obvious,” he said, anxiously looking into her eyes. “Marry me, Caitlyn.” “Nick, I…” Trailing off as she glanced at the beautiful ring, Caitlyn felt tears sting her eyes before she slowly shook her head. “I can’t.” Looking into his eyes, she felt as if her heart was breaking. She had never seen that look of anguish before. “Nick, I’m sorry, I…” “No, just… forget it,” he muttered, snapping the box shut as he turned and walked off the ice. “Nick!” Feeling her stomach drop in dread when he didn’t turn around, Caitlyn closed her eyes, letting the tears slip free before letting her head fall into her hands. Sobbing quietly to herself for a few moments, she finally took a deep breath to control her emotions. Hesitantly walking toward the path, Caitlyn trekked through the snow, slowly walking toward her parents’ house. Feeling numb by the time she reached the front door, Caitlyn walked into the house, ignoring the crowd that still remained in the living room as she walked toward the stairs. Entering her room a minute later, she stopped when she didn’t see Nick. Hurrying back down the stairs, she walked out onto the front porch, feeling her heart drop into her stomach when she saw that his car was gone. ~

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Exhaustedly walking into the private figure-skating rink on New Year’s Day, Caitlyn dropped the guards for her blades on the floor next to the door of the rink. Easily stepping onto the ice, she made a circular pass, gliding around with practiced ease. Hearing the slight creak of a door closing, she turned around to skate backwards, seeing Nick enter the rink from the opposite side. “Nick!” Her chest constricted when he didn’t bother to look up at her. Sliding to a stop, she waited until he was nearly passing her when she moved in front of him, forcing him to slow down. Skating backwards, keeping him in front of her, Caitlyn sailed along the ice, growing frustrated when he didn’t look at her. “I’m your partner,” she finally said, slowing down and forcing him to get closer to her. “You can’t just ignore me.” “Maybe not,” he said in a hurt tone. “But I can during warm-ups.” “You didn’t have to leave,” she said, seeing his eyes finally fall on her before turning away, taking a sharp right, out of her path. “Nick…” “Alright, children.” Turning at the sound of her coach’s heavy Russian accent, Caitlyn sighed heavily before making her way over to the side of the rink, stopping in front of the older man. “Hi, Luther.” “My dear,” he said in greeting. Tensing up when Nick stopped beside her, Caitlyn gripped the partition in front of her. Vaguely aware of the instructions that she was receiving from her coach, she nodded, following Nick toward the middle of the ice. “We need to talk,” she said when they came to a stop. “Nothing to talk about,” Nick said in a cold tone. “There is,” she insisted, nearly growling in frustration when she heard Luther tell them to begin. Moving together as they always had, Caitlyn couldn’t shake the tension from her body. The familiar feeling of Nick’s hands on her hips distracted her as she was thrown

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through the air. Landing shakily, Caitlyn’s ankle wobbled beneath her before rolling and sending her crashing to the ice, wincing as her knee, hip, and shoulder connected. Cringing when she tried to push herself away from the cold surface, Caitlyn hazily heard Luther’s voice in the background. “Nicholas! Help her!” Feeling Nick’s hands on her hips, assisting her to stand, she whimpered in pain when she put pressure on her right foot. “You alright?” Nick asked, trying to keep his voice steady and uncaring. Hesitantly nodding, Caitlyn put more pressure on her leg, standing up a little straighter. Trying to ignore the pangs of regret and loneliness that coursed through her when Nick’s hands abandoned her, she bent over slightly, attempting to catch her breath. “Caitlyn, are you okay?” Luther asked, approaching her. “Yeah… Just a little shaky on the dismount,” she said, making the effort to smile at her joke. “What was going on out there?” he asked, watching the skating partners carefully as they avoided each other’s gaze. “Alright. Practice is over.” Both Caitlyn and Nick snapped their eyes over to their coach. “What?” Nick asked in disbelief. “Luther, we’ve had over two weeks off. This is a busy season…shouldn’t we…” “Whatever you two are arguing about in your private lives, resolve it. As I said, practice is over, but you shall remain on the ice until your differences are sorted out. If that means I come back tomorrow at this time and you are still here, so be it,” he finished with a shrug, turning and walking off the ice. Caitlyn and Nick stayed in the same place as they watched their coach walk out of the building, the distant slam of the door echoing through the open space. “Well,” Caitlyn muttered, looking down at the ice. “I guess that’s that.” Seeing Nick moving away from her, Caitlyn turned and followed him, wincing when she put the added pressure on her right side. “Nick, wait,” she said, hoping to get him to turn around. “Nothing worth waiting for,” he said.

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The double-meaning wasn’t lost on Caitlyn as she slowly slid to a stop. Hanging her head in disappointment, she never noticed when Nick turned back to look at her. “Don’t do that,” he said, shaking his head when she looked up to meet his gaze with her own. “Don’t act like this is all my fault. You’re the one who said no.” Watching as she looked down while he spoke, hiding the slightest quiver of her chin, Nick looked up at the high ceiling of the building, gritting his teeth. “Stop it,” he said in a low voice. “Stop what?” she asked, a hint of irritation creeping into her tone as she raised her eyes to his. “Stop acting like you feel bad about this.” “How the hell do you know how I feel?” she asked angrily, skating toward him until she was directly in front of him. “It’s not like you decided to hang around and listen to me. You just took off without so much as a good-bye to anybody. You didn’t care about me, didn’t care how I would get home!” “Excuse me for not wanting to hang around after being rejected,” he replied in a cold voice. “I rejected the proposal, not you!” she cried, throwing out her arms in exasperation. “And this is why.” Finally gaining his full attention, Caitlyn breathed a sigh. “Why?” he finally asked. “Because… Because of this, Nick. We can’t even get a full conversation out before we start fighting. Ignoring the fun times that we had at Christmas when we were away from the stress and away from everything… This is our relationship.” “Yeah… Well, I don’t see it,” he muttered, idly kicking at the ice, watching as the shavings flew away from the blade. “How can you not?” she asked, looking up at him with sorrow-filled eyes. “The only time we’ve ever really fit together has been on the ice.” “I can think of some other times when we’ve fit pretty well,” he muttered, hearing her angrily stomp her blade against the ice.

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“I’m not actually taking the conversation inside the bedroom right now, if you don’t mind,” she said, obviously growing more frustrated. “Caitlyn, if two people love each other… They make it work. We could make it work.” Avoiding his gaze, Caitlyn sighed as she bit her lip, obviously deep in thought. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he continued, moving slightly closer to her, stopping when she finally looked up at him. “What’s the worst that could happen?” she repeated in disbelief. “You could meet someone in a few years and wish that you weren’t with me anymore, for starters.” “Never happen,” he said, gritting his teeth in frustration. “How do you know?” Caitlyn asked, smoothly skating toward him, coming to a stop directly in front of him. “Do you think that every person who’s gotten divorced got engaged with the mindset ‘till divorce do us part’? No. It doesn’t happen that way, Nick.” “Do you really not trust me that much?” he asked in disbelief, his brow furrowing as he looked down at her. Avoiding his gaze, Caitlyn took a deep breath, pouting slightly as she shrugged. “I trust you,” she murmured after a long moment. “But I just…” “Just…what?” Nick asked, moving closer to her until their bodies were nearly touching. “I hate this,” she whispered with a slightly disbelieving smile. “I really hate this. Damn it, Nick, why did you have to propose to me?” Unable to keep the smile from his face, Nick chuckled as he looked downward, earning a slap on his chest from Caitlyn. “It’s not funny,” she said irritably, crossing her arms over her chest. “Laugh or cry, sweetheart,” he said, raising his eyes to hers, letting Caitlyn see the pain that still resided. “Take your pick.” “I never meant to hurt you,” she said, her voice softening as she tried to make him understand. “Right,” he muttered with a nod. “Let me guess– you want everything to go back to normal, am I right? Eat, sleep, skate… Is that the plan, Caity?” “I don’t know,” she said, taking a deep breath, silently adding, ‘If I can go back to that.’

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“Do you love me?” Caitlyn’s eyes widened as she looked up at him. “What?” “Did I stutter?” he asked, waiting impatiently for her answer. “You’re honestly asking me that?” “It’s a simple question,” he said, his spine straightening as he prepared for the rejection he was sure would come. “Do you love me? Yes or no.” “Yes,” she said, looking at him with pain-filled eyes. “Yes, of course I love you.” “That’s all I needed to know,” he said, skating backwards, leaving Caitlyn stunned in his wake. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, quickly following after him. “Whatever you want it to mean,” he said cryptically. “You’re not going to pull this crap,” she said, easily cutting across the ice and forcing him to look at her. “And what would that be?” he asked, raising an eyebrow with an amused smile. “You’re going to act like it all meant nothing,” she said, putting her hand on his chest to prevent him from going anywhere. “And that’s a lie.” “Was it?” “What do you think?” ~ 5 Years Earlier “Oh, you’re kidding me,” Caitlyn said, turning toward her coach with a disbelieving look. “Give him a chance, my dear,” Luther said with his usual calm demeanor. “He may surprise you.” “Look at him,” she said, gesturing to the tall, broad-shouldered man who was entering the rink. “What about him?” Luther said, his strong Russian accent becoming even more pronounced as he grew frustrated with the girl in front of him. “You are seventeen years

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old, and already you are taller than I am. If we are to make a career out of this sport, then you will have to be paired with a skater who can easily handle the moves that are required. This means that you may need a somewhat…unique partner.” “Please tell me you did not just call me fat,” she replied with an arched eyebrow. Chuckling softly, Luther shook his head. “Give him a chance,” he continued, looking over in time to see Nick skating toward him. “Nicholas Evans, meet Caitlyn Davis.” Seeing the cold look he was receiving, Nick smiled. “I think you’ve been on the ice too long, baby. You might need to go thaw out.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean? And…Please tell me that you did not just call me baby?” she said, narrowing her eyes when he gave her a bright smile. “I can see that you two are getting along splendidly,” Luther said, walking off of the ice. “Today will not be a regular practice. You two are to merely get acquainted. Be back on the ice at six o’clock tomorrow morning.” “Good job,” Caitlyn said when Luther moved out of earshot. “Not even out here for a minute and you’ve already scared away the best coach in the business.” “Don’t look at me,” he said with a shrug. “You’re the one giving off the death looks.” Glaring at him as he skated around her in a full circle, she followed his movements, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him. “And apparently you were also the one who seemed to deem me worthy of hate at first sight. Or maybe it was lust at first sight,” he continued with a smirk, loving the way that Caitlyn’s face was turning a violent shade of red as he continued to skate around her in a full circle. “Either way, I got your attention.” “Okay, stop with all of the circley innuendo crap,” she said, blinking rapidly to dissuade the pounding in her head. “Circley,” Nick muttered, not bothering to stop. “Not even a word, princess. And you’re a skater – shouldn’t you be used to going in circles?” “You’re right,” she replied, letting her blade slice across the cold surface as she forced Nick to redirect his movements. “I am a skater… But I’m beginning to wonder if you are or not.” Raising an eyebrow, Nick moved forward, easily lifting her into his arms, ignoring Caitlyn’s yell of protest. Waiting until she reflexively locked her arms, he lifted her over his head, gliding across the ice before easily tossing her into the air, watching as she spun around and gracefully landed on her blade.

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“Does that prove your point?” he asked, skating toward her until she was backing away from him. “That doesn’t prove anything… Except you have a cavalier attitude and sloppy form.” “Skating tips from the ice queen.” Caitlyn glared at him for a moment before lifting her chin and making a show of turning away from him, skating to the other side of the rink. “Did I say that you needed to thaw out?” he called after her, not bothering to hide the amused smile on his face. “I meant you might need to get the ice pick surgically removed from your ass.” Turning around with a stunned expression, Caitlyn stared at him for a long moment, obviously not believing what she was hearing. “Where do you get off talking to me like that?” she replied angrily. “I get off in all kinds of ways, baby,” he said, moving toward her. “But you’re too young to know.” “Is that right?” Caitlyn replied in obvious annoyance. “You don’t exactly look over the hill.” “I’m out of kindergarten,” he replied, smiling when she narrowed her eyes. “Just how old are you, princess?” “What does age matter?” she replied, moving around the ice backwards. “I’m obviously too mature for you.” ~ “It got better,” Nick said with a heavy sigh. “Yeah,” she said with a nod. “It really did.” “It wasn’t always like that… There were some pretty good times, if I remember correctly.” “Nick, I…” “Don’t,” he interrupted, shaking his head as he skated toward the door of the rink. “I don’t… I don’t want to remember.” ~

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3 Years Earlier

“I would have bet everything that we would have qualified,” she muttered, letting her head fall onto her folded arms as they sat at the table. “Yeah,” Nick said, taking a long swallow of bourbon. “Me, too.” “We were ready,” she said, sitting up a little straighter to look at him. “We were so ready and… What happened, Nick?” “I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “The Olympics,” she murmured, looking up at him with a sad expression. “How can everything just be…gone?” “Not gone,” Nick said, setting the alcohol on the table as he walked over to his closet. “Just put off for a while, is all.” “Yeah, but that’s two years down the drain,” Caitlyn said with a pout. “And four years left to get even better,” he said, taking off his shirt and throwing it in the closet as he searched for another one. Feeling her mouth go dry at the sight of the exposed muscles of his back, Caitlyn cleared her throat and turned away, biting her lip when she felt his eyes on her. “I should get back to my room,” she murmured, standing up. “Caity,” Nick said, moving to block her exit. “Everything will turn out alright,” he said, letting his fingertips ghost along her jaw, smiling when she closed her eyes at the feel of his touch. “You’ll see.” Opening her eyes, Caitlyn looked up at him with a grateful smile, not thinking about the consequences as she wrapped a hand behind his neck and pulled him lower, gently caressing his lips with hers in a tender kiss. Pulling away after a moment, Caity looked up at Nick with a worried expression. “I’m sorry, I…” Crushing his lips to hers, Nick effectively cut her off, wrapping his arms around her waist when he felt her hands tentatively run along his back, pulling him closer to her. ~

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“What if I want to remember?” Caitlyn said, following him as he left the rink. “That night changed everything, Nick. Everything. I don’t want to write it off.” “Didn’t say that,” he muttered, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose as if he was trying to stop the headache that was forming. “It’s just… That’s not us. Not anymore.” “It could be,” she said, her voice turning pleading as he turned to face her. “Just because I’m not ready to get married doesn’t mean that we can’t be us.” “What are you saying, Caity?” “I love you,” she said, putting every ounce of emotion behind those three words. “I love you, Nicky. I don’t want to do anything cliché; I don’t want to start over or give up or have a fresh start. I just want us to be us.” “And the proposal?” he asked, holding his breath as he waited for her answer. Looking down at the ground for a moment, Caitlyn nervously shifted from foot to foot before raising her eyes to his. “Can it wait?” she asked, taking a step forward. “Not long, just… Can it wait?” “You love me?” Nick asked, obviously needing the reassurance. “I love you,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I do.” “I love you, too,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before tenderly brushing his lips to hers. “Everything else can wait.”

The End

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WINTER’S SURRENDER Alanna Grey

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As a little girl, I had always loved the winter. I loved the way the snow would fall, forming a soft blanket that covered the earth. To see the tree limbs bare from leaves but with a covering of white powder. What I loved most was being outside, playing in it. Skipping through the snow, leaving my footprints. Riding the makeshift sleds my friends and I made and slamming face first into a snow bank. Lying on my back, catching snowflakes on my tongue and moving my arms and legs against the snow to form a snow angel. Those perfect childhood memories were marred forever the moment I saw the snow covered in blood-large blotches of red against the milky white powder. His body covered in a light coating of snowflakes, the life draining from him. He’d been my one, the man I was to marry. I’d fallen in love with this beautiful man, he with the large blue eyes and a mane of blonde hair. He was exquisite and wonderful and loved me wholly, as if I were his world. He loved me for everything, even my stubborn ways. We were a perfect match. We’d been engaged but a few short months when tragedy struck. The night before our wedding his carriage was stopped and robbed, the men shooting my fiancé dead. I died that night along with him and our love. My memories of him started to fade from that night on, and suddenly I couldn’t see his face any more or even hear his voice. It was almost as if he hadn’t existed at all. I am now a lady; four years have passed since my memories of Kieran disappeared. I should have been married by now. Bound by blood to my adoring husband, tucked away on his estate, bearing child after child for him. But, alas, I am not married, too proud in my beliefs and not wanting to have to be led around. And here I, Amanda Wilder, sit in the Spencerton’s home, in their grand ballroom, watching the young, unwed girls dance the night away with their husbands in prospect. They have not a care in the world. All that matters is dancing and being in their sweetheart’s arms. Not one of them knows what it is like to have my pain or my problems. To have had their heart broken. To suffer a loss so painful and life changing that no one could help to put it right. I had been courted by almost every eligible bachelor, but none of the men who sought me made my toes curl or fulfilled my girlish image of love. I wanted more than the other girls wanted. A husband who valued my opinions and thoughts, a man who would see all of me, not just a showpiece. I guess I am considered too proud, too thoughtful. But I knew somewhere out there; there was a man for me. A man who would far exceed my expectations, and I was willing to wait until my hair turned gray and my skin wrinkled if that was what it took to find him. So there I sat, alone. My perfectly flawless lavender chiffon dress cut in the latest style with my hands folded neatly in my lap, staring out the window at the gentle falling of the snow. I sighed loudly, bored that I was alone yet again, and decided it was time to leave. I stood and glanced around for my chaperone; then I saw him, this beautiful man who caught my attention as he entered the ballroom.

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A breath caught in my throat as his gaze swept around the room, taking in and examining every person who happened to capture his stare. He was gorgeous, breathtakingly so. His light hair was a shade of blonde I had never seen before, almost white in color. He wore it slightly long and wavy around his chiseled face. His features looked as if they were carved from stone, and as his gaze swung towards me, I saw his eyes were an outrageous shade of deep blue. I was so caught up in my staring that I didn’t notice he was looking right back at me. My cheeks reddened with embarrassment as I turned away. I knew he was still gazing at me, I could feel his eyes on my back, sending delicious tingles up and down my spine. And I liked it, loved the way this man was making me feel. Awakening things inside me that I thought I would never feel again. Somehow I knew this man. He was so familiar, yet I could not place him. ~ Kieran hadn’t wanted to go to this particular party. He had already made his way through town, presenting himself to all of the important families and making friends. He was tired. All he wanted to do was grab himself a glass of brandy and sit in front of his fire, relaxing. But here he found himself at the Spencertons’ ball, watching the couples twirl past on the elaborate dance floor. He was scanning the room boldly when his eyes landed on a petite young woman sitting among a row of empty burgundy velvet chairs. She was alone, sitting quietly, watching the snow fall outside. She was deep in thought, and Kieran wondered what such an attractive woman could be thinking so hard about. She was beautiful, Kieran thought, wanting to tear his eyes away but unable to. Her honey blonde hair was piled high on her head; little curl ringlets ran down her temples. Her head was bowed, staring at her little hands encased in white gloves. Suddenly, as she stood up and began to scan the crowd, her luminous eyes landed on him. Kieran couldn’t explain it, but as her eyes met his, a shot of electricity ran through him, exciting his veins. Even from the distance across the room, he could make out the forest green of her eyes. He couldn’t tear his eyes from her and stared unabashedly. Her beauty mesmerized him, made him feel things that his long cold heart hadn’t felt in an eternity. She turned quickly and gave him a view of her graceful back. Kieran’s legs began to move, and he soon realized they were bringing him to her. As he reached the row of chairs, he saw that she had disappeared. He all but panicked until he saw her being led out onto the dance floor by some man he didn’t recognize. He watched as she smiled at the man, who bowed in front of her, before graciously accepting his proffered hand. They twirled around the expansive floor along with the other dancing couples. Kieran’s eyes followed as her lavender skirts flowed around her legs, and she smiled, her tinkling laughter floating above them. He realized then that he was jealous. Very jealous, in fact, of the man who was holding her tightly. He wanted to

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be the man holding her, wanted to hear her giggling laughter in his ear, her warm breath on his face. It had been so long since he felt such an intense feeling rolling like a wave through his body. Before he knew what he was doing, he was moving towards her once again, his strong legs carrying him to his destination. ~ Amanda was delighted when Robert asked her to dance. It was nice to have a break from her thoughts. He had courted her just short of a year ago, and even though she had turned him down, they had become fast friends. Robert was a sweet man with soft brown hair and warm brown eyes. He was very easy on the eyes, and Amanda loved him--but as nothing more than her friend. As he spun her around, Amanda saw the man she had been staring at earlier looking at her. Watching her like a hawk. The same tingle made its way up her spine again and her heart began to pound rapidly within her chest as he made his way towards her. “May I cut in?” a deep voice boomed behind her, sending a fresh surge of tingles through her already electrified body. “Of course,” she heard Robert reply as his arms slipped from their chaste position and he stepped away from her. Kieran smiled as he gathered the girl in his arms, eliciting a slight blush from her soft face. Half of Amanda wanted to yell at Robert for releasing her so quickly, and the other half wanted to melt into this stranger’s embrace and never leave. “Hello,” he said softly, his blue eyes boring into hers. “Hello,” she murmured back, unable to tear her eyes from his. “May I have this dance?” “Seems you have already staked your claim,” she replied matter-of-factly. He laughed at her comment, his eyes twinkling. “So it does,” Kieran agreed, his mouth opening in a wide smile, allowing her to see his even, white teeth. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting all alone?” he asked, those astonishing blue eyes moving over her blushing face. Amanda stared into his eyes, almost tripping over her own feet as he whirled them around. “Uh…no reason,” she replied, not allowing herself to spill her secrets to a man she’d known for a matter of mere minutes.

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“Ahh.” Amanda thought he might be disappointed, but he suddenly smiled at her as his arm tightened about her waist. Her skin seemed to vibrate where he touched her, and she thought for sure he could hear the rapid beating of her heart as it seemed to pound against her ribs. His eyes met hers again and Amanda almost tripped anew at what she saw hidden in those blue depths. “Why do I feel like I know you?” he whispered in her ear. “You seem so familiar, yet different.” “I bet you say that to all the ladies,” she half joked even though her heart thudded harshly in her chest. “Your touch seems familiar, your smell. The way your body fits against mine. Why?” Kieran racked his brain, trying to remember something, anything that would make him understand. Amanda laughed uneasily and tried to distance herself just a bit, but his grip never slackened. Instead, he seemed to invade her personal space even more, deliciously so. “Why?” he murmured against her, his breath against her ear. “Why do you ask me?” Amanda replied nervously. “I’ve no idea why you might think you know me.” Kieran searched her eyes for any hint of a lie but found nothing. Amanda wondered how he knew there was a familiarity between them. She’d felt it the moment she saw him. Her eyes moved over his face as he stared back at her. Twirling and twirling, his body becoming closer, his mouth only a mere breath away. She was incapable of turning away, of not allowing his mouth to descend on hers. Her eyes closed briefly as she awaited his kiss. It never came. Amanda jumped as everyone around them started clapping; it seemed the song had ended and everyone was applauding the musicians. She blushed again and pulled herself out of his grasp. “Thank you for the dance.” “My pleasure,” he replied bowing at the waist. As Amanda turned around to walk away, he grabbed her arm.

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“Where are you going?” he asked, his eyes wide. “What? Oh…back to the chairs.” Amanda gestured towards the sad looking velvet chairs that lined the wall where she’d been sitting before being rescued by Robert. “No, you aren’t. Fancy a walk with me?” “Where? Because in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s snowing outside,” she told him. “Come with me…please,” he just about begged. Amanda pretended to think about it. It would be absolutely scandalous to run about the house with him un-chaperoned. She glanced around furtively, and even though it felt as if everyone’s eyes were on them, no one appeared to be paying them any attention. Who would notice if she slipped off for a while? One look into his electric eyes and she was done for. “Alright,” she said taking the hand he held out for her. He broke into a leisurely smile as her little hand fit into his. Tugging her with him, he strode from the ballroom looking for some sort of sanctuary. Somewhere they could be alone and talk. ~ As soon as Kieran entered the glass-ceiling room, he knew it was just perfect for them. He led her in, his hand holding hers tightly. His face broke into a wide smile when he heard her sharp intake of breath. Reluctantly, he released her hand and moved about the expansive room to the fireplace, chucking more logs onto the dwindling fire to warm away the slight chill in the room. He kept sneaking glances at her as she stared out the large bay windows at the snow, which continued to gently fall. Amanda couldn’t believe the beauty that was this room. She could look up and see the snow falling onto her through the glass ceiling and then out the huge floor-to-ceiling windows to see the snow fall into a soft blanket. It was absolutely breathtaking. Her hand found its way to her mouth as she stared in awe at the power that was Mother Nature. The flames from the fire leaped wildly in the fireplace, casting a triumph of dancing shadows across the room. “Where are we?” she asked breaking the silence. “I believe it’s the library,” he answered, his eyes roving around the room as well.

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He made his way back to her and placed one hand on her shoulder. Lightly, he fingered a curl that had fallen loose from the rest of her hair, his fingers brushing tenderly against her neck. “Who are you?” she half whispered, her eyes closing at his ministrations. She hadn’t come into this room away from the rest of the people in the house to have him seduce her. But as his fingers played softly at her neck, brushing up and down her sensitive flesh and sending a shock of gooseflesh to break out along her skin, she debated what her real intentions were. He was weaving a spell around her and damned if she didn’t like it. She needed to move away, to stop the magic that was his touch from drugging her senses and making her drowsy with need. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she forced herself to take a step back and break his seductive hold on her. Shaking slightly, she walked to the window and gazed out into the snow-filled garden. The trees were covered with a dusting of snow, casting the sky into a lighter shade of blue, as though it was dusk, not midnight. “It’s so beautiful tonight,” he said from behind her, his body close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his frame. Her unanswered question hung in the air between them. Amanda wanted nothing more than to lean back and feel his lean body against hers, but she forced herself to remain upright, instead wrapping her arms around herself as the snow began to fall harder. It was wrong for her to seek comfort in this man. He was a stranger, but inside her, buried deep inside her soul, he was a kindred spirit, and she felt as though they had known each other for years, for a lifetime. She felt him move and he was standing next to her, his arm touching her shoulder. “Looks like it’s turning into a right wicked storm,” he commented as the wind picked up, blowing the snow around and making visibility impossible. Amanda nodded her head in agreement, fascinated by the snowstorm outside. It was strange to be so infatuated with the weather. It didn’t matter if it were snow or rain; Amanda was thoroughly in love with it all. A crack of thunder sounded as a flash of lightning lined the sky making her jump. “Wow,” she gasped and laughed when she realized she had jumped into his arms again. “I’d make it thunder all night if it meant that you would be in my arms permanently,” he murmured in her ear. Again Amanda’s eyes closed as he pressed a brief kiss to her temple.

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“Why am I so comfortable with you?” she asked. “I don’t honestly know. But I feel the same.” “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be alone with you. This is indecent, scandalous,” she tried to tell him as she spun around to look into his face. Maybe that was a mistake, because as she met his eyes, his mouth came towards hers. Her eyes fell shut, and when his lips brushed against hers, Amanda felt a rush of fireworks explode behind her closed lids. She was shocked at her response to his kiss, the raw need she felt in his mouth as it reclaimed hers again and again. His hands moved up her back, clutching her to him as his lips moved over hers. His tongue licked at the seal to her mouth, begging entrance and sliding in when it was granted. Amanda nearly swooned as his tongue pushed between her lips. To kiss this way was so intimate, something one might do with their husband. But to stop now, to end this delicious torment, was something she could not do. Her arms snaked around his neck, her fingers threading themselves in his soft, unbound hair. His lips left hers as he kissed his way across her jaw line towards her throat. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent--a mixture of roses and vanilla, only better. He wanted to imprint her scent in his memories so that he would know this happiness forever. To hold her in his arms, to feel her kisses on his face was something akin to heaven. He pulled back and looked upon her glazed features, arms held loosely around her waist as his mesmerizing cobalt blue eyes searched hers. Their gazes locked and their heads fell back as a bright light suddenly exploded between their bodies, thrusting them apart. Their clasped hands were the only things keeping them from falling. Suddenly, a series of flashes danced before them, moving pictures of the two of them together. Memories of the past slammed into the pair, assaulting their senses, making them so dizzy their heads swam. Kieran saw them as teenagers walking through a park and watched as he pulled a younger version of the girl standing before him close and kissed her. Amanda saw a wedding taking place, and he was there standing in a tux waiting as a woman in white walked down the aisle towards him. The veil was lifted and she saw that it was her face underneath. Swollen with a child, Kieran held her hand as she bore down and pushed a wailing infant from her womb. Tears of joy sliding down his face in love and admiration as he kissed her tenderly. They both saw an old couple on a porch sitting in a large rocking chair watching the wind blow the autumn leaves around while fat raindrops pounded the earth. Their small grandchild dancing gleefully in the rain. They saw a carriage riding through the snow and a gang of men jumping the driver as he barreled past; the armed men busted their way inside the coach dragging Kieran out.

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“No!” Amanda screamed as one of the men pointed a gun at Kieran. She jumped as the gunshot rang through the air, a bright spot of red forming on Kieran’s chest. He fell backwards into the chalky snow and coughed. The men raided the coach, taking everything they could carry before checking on Kieran once more. The thieves kicked snow onto him as they laughed then turned and walked away. “Amanda,” he breathed as the last gust of air left his body, his lifeless eyes closing, his battle with death declaring him the loser. Just as suddenly as the pictures had begun, they stopped, and Kieran fell backwards onto the leather couch behind him with Amanda falling on top of him. ~ Amanda’s arms were wrapped tightly around him as he came to. She was crying against his chest, her tears wetting his shirt as she sobbed. Kieran sat up and dragged her onto his lap, his arms holding her tenderly as he rocked her back and forth, trying his best to calm her and the feelings reeling inside him as well. “My god! You were dead. The night before our wedding, your coach was robbed and they shot you. I saw you cold and dead, your body covered in snow. I didn’t think it was you, I prayed it wasn’t you,” she sobbed her voice muffled by his chest. “Shh, sweetie, I know. I know,” he cooed in her ear. “I thought I would never see you again. That night you died. I died right along with you,” she said shakily. She had seen too much that night, too many images that had been burned painfully into her brain. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here, feel me holding you. I’m real and I’m alive. Nothing will take me from you again.” Her tears started anew, desperate as she clutched him. Her hands no doubt left imprints on his skin, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was in his arms. He held her for a long time. Tears falling down both their faces. He lifted her head from his shirt and brushed the wetness from her face. Her green eyes were wide and glossy as he pulled her mouth to his and kissed her. A gentle kiss, just a pressing of his lips against hers. “So alone,” she wept kissing him again, harder this time. “I’m right here,” he whispered dragging her mouth back to his. They kissed and pulled apart, gasping for breath, only to kiss again, becoming more urgent with each break, their mouths more demanding than before. His hand supported

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her head, pressing her mouth to his as he kissed her over and over, erasing her grief with each taste. He leaned her back on his arm as he kissed down her throat, his other hand opening the bodice of her dress with each kiss and bite of her flesh. Her arms lowered from around his neck as he got her dress opened. He let his arm slide from under her as he laid her down on the soft leather, kneeling beside the couch and pressing his lips to her heaving chest. “I would dream about you every night. Every time I closed my eyes, you would appear. I would dream that you were saved and I had you in my arms again. Only to wake up and feel the cold creep into my bones, knowing it would never be. That you were gone forever,” she whispered as she ran her fingers through his hair while he cupped her breasts and trailed kisses up and down the valley in between them. “Do you feel this?” he asked dropping a kiss on a rosy nipple. Her back arched against his mouth as he kissed the peak again, making it harden painfully under his ministrations. His mouth lifted and attacked its twin as forcefully as before. She moaned softly, her body on fire from his actions. A fine sheen of sweat broke out along her skin as her insides quivered with pleasure. He was taking her places that she never thought she would go with him again. ‘It can’t be a dream. Don’t let it be a dream’, she silently begged as Kieran continued to wreak blissful havoc on her aching breasts. “I’m not going anywhere, Amanda. I’m yours now…and forever. Not leaving. Can’t leave you… Love you TOO much.” He lifted his head from her chest and stared straight at her. “I love you. Death cannot stop our love. It’s forever. Timeless. I was meant to be yours, and damn it, you are meant to be mine,” he said gathering her in his arms. “What are you doing?” she asked as he picked her up. “Making love to you.” “Wait…Kieran.” “No, Amanda. Nothing short of heaven or hell will stop me from making love to you right now,” he told her as he laid her down on the soft fur rug in front of the fireplace. She wasn’t a virgin. Hadn’t been since a couple of weeks prior to their wedding. She had given herself to him; they were to be married and what would a couple of weeks matter? Had she known then that he was going to die, it wouldn’t have changed her

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decision. She was glad she had given herself to him then and was about to give herself again. Only Kieran got her soul, her body made for him and him alone. Kieran knelt between her parted legs, slowly pushing her skirts up and out of the way. He reached the rose garters that held her stockings in place and released them, rolling the silk coverings down her legs one at a time and kissing the fresh skin that was revealed. A flick of the wrist and they were flung by the wayside. Amanda looked up at him from beneath her heavy-lidded eyes, wondering what he would do next and begging him not to stop. His hands were like molten fire as they moved up her legs, her skin tingling from his touch as he reached her tightly cropped nest of curls, silken and glistening from her excitement. Her legs spread instinctively as he ran a single digit along her sex, making her quiver in anticipation. She watched helplessly as he lowered his mouth to her center, parting her legs even more. The first touch of his tongue against her sensitive flesh made her jump and press her sex against his face. He licked at her, tasting her essence. She moaned loudly as he teased her with his tongue. Striking her bundle of nerves over and over, her body teetering on the edge of orgasm. His fingers parted her flesh while he continued his assault with his tongue. He spread her open, leaving her intimately exposed to his eyes and mouth. His tongue hit her little button as he slid a long finger inside her. She wanted more of him inside her. His fingers, his body, him…she wanted it all. She would never get enough of him. He began to move his finger in time with his tongue, her sex on pleasurable fire as he worked her over. She felt her body tighten around his digit and explode as she plunged over the cliff into orgasm. Her body contracted around him, releasing a flood of her nectar as she thrashed about beneath him. Kieran kissed his way up her body, his mouth reclaiming hers fiercely, the ardent bulge of his erection pressing against her intimately, as if telling her how badly he wanted their bodies joined, to be where he belonged. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue plunging inside, a soul kiss, which left her aching with want. Oh yes… He pressed the outline of his sex against her sensitive flesh, renewing the passion that burned inside her. She reached down as he pushed his hips back and started to unfasten his breeches. The buttons snapped open and his manhood sprang free, hard and needy, the tip glistening in excitement. He groaned low against her mouth as she wrapped her hot little hand around him, squeezing lightly. His hips thrust slightly, making her hand move up and down his length.

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Up and down. His hard flesh smooth and like marble under her soft hand. She moved a little more, going down a little farther, making the tip of his sex butt against hers. They moaned together as she did it again. Over and over, both of them panting, wanting more. “Amanda…Amanda…stop love,” he moaned against her lips, his hips stilling, his mouth begging her to cease her torment on him. A shadow of self-consciousness fell over her, and she was going to ask why, thinking that maybe he didn’t like what she was doing to him when suddenly she felt him settle against her, the tip of his hardness poised at her entrance. His hands cupped her head and he stared down into her eyes. “I love you. You will know just how much when I am done with you. You are my world. This chance, this miracle that we were given is something I will never take for granted. I will cherish it and you for the rest of our lives. You are my soul mate, Amanda. My one and only. Forever,” he confessed as he stared into her eyes, making her feel everything he was feeling. “I’m nothing without you, Kieran. Nothing. Cold and dead. My heart is for you and you alone. I love you,” she proclaimed as she pulled his mouth back down to hers. He kissed her with an animalistic growl and entered her slowly, letting her get accustomed to his size. She groaned and took him in, her sex fitting him like a glove, tight and warm. He pulled out slowly, her hips unconsciously rising with his as if to keep him inside. She whimpered at the loss of him when he suddenly plunged back inside, locking their bodies together. The feeling was exquisite; the sensation of finally being joined was a fusion of undeniable pleasure. He rocked his hips against hers, drawing in deeper and deeper, her insides like molten lava. Burning him alive. Nothing felt sweeter or more divine then being inside her, belonging to her. Amanda slid her hands over Kieran’s flexing back as he thrust inside her. Her pleasure began to build again, more intense this time. Kieran slid a hand between their bodies to rub at her hard nubbin, delighting in her gasp of pleasure. He kissed her face, her cheeks, her eyelids, finally burying his face in her throat as he thrust harder and faster, her hips lifting to meet his in their own private dance of pleasure. “Tell me you love me.” “God, I love you…love you so much.” “Forever, Amanda. Nothing will ever part us again,” he told her fiercely his hips slamming against hers.

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“Forever,” she repeated as the pleasure washed over her again, so strong that it silenced her with its power. Her sex contracted tightly and violently on his while she held onto him for dear life, leaving little half moon creases in his back from where her nails dug into his flesh as she rode out her orgasm, her eyes rolling back in her head at the sheer force of it. Words failed him as he pulsed violently within her silken folds, his hard body endlessly emptying his seed inside her womb. He lay still on top of her, her hands stroking his hair as silent tears ran down her face. “I didn’t dare to hope. Didn’t dare to dream that this could happen. Why Kieran? Why?” she asked clinging to him as he slid from her and moved up her body to hold her close. “It matters not, Amanda. We are together now. Feel this?” he asked placing her hand over his heart. She nodded and smiled at him. “I’m not dead. I’m alive and well, and very much yours. Nothing to be afraid of.” “I’m afraid if I go to sleep, it will all be a dream and you won’t be here when I wake up. Please don’t let this be a dream,” she whispered to him fresh tears threatening to tumble from her eyes. “Pinch me.” “What?” “I said pinch me. Or better yet pinch yourself,” he told her. “Why? What would be the purpose of that?” she questioned quite confused by his request. “When you are dreaming, you can’t feel, well you’re not supposed to. So they tell you to pinch yourself to prove you are not dreaming,” he explained, his fathomless blue depths dancing. She just looked at him quizzically and yelped as he pinched her. “See? Not dreaming. I’m real and I’m here.” “That hurt,” she pouted. “Aw, don’t pout. I can’t resist that mouth and I might be tempted to ravish you all over again,” he teased her.

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“Ravish me, Kieran.” The soft purr of her voice was almost his undoing as he lowered his lips to hers, merely brushing against hers. With a growl, she opened her mouth and kissed him fiercely, her teeth biting at his bottom lip as she rubbed her body against his. “You are insatiable,” he mumbled, the passion within his body rekindling. “I just don’t want to let go. You feel so wonderful against me, inside me. It’s like it never was, Kieran, like no time has passed,” she whispered. “You saw everything I saw, love. We are a sure thing, a done deal. I am yours and you are mine.” Amanda smiled and stifled a yawn, her body succumbing to the sleep she so desperately needed, the sleep they both needed. All the information, the memories and feelings that had consumed them were exhausting. Sleep was inevitable. “Go to sleep, sweetling. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised as he brushed his lips against hers again, her eyes closing even though she defiantly tried to keep them open. He settled in next to her and wiped her face free from tears as sleep overcame her. He had no idea how he was returned back to her or why he had died. Why had he been taken from her at that exact moment in time? What made him so worthy to be given this chance? Endless questions floated around in his mind, all begging to be answered. He wanted to say that it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were together again, their love overwhelming and bright. He wanted to bathe in it and spend the rest of his life forever in her arms. The memory of his death flashed behind his closed eyes, playing like a movie against his dark lids. His heart contracted painfully as he was shown Amanda’s viewpoint, her feelings of grief slamming into him, consuming him. The local police knocking on her door, shocking her with their badges their grave faces as they told her what had happened. Her appalled face filled with dread as large tears spilled from her emerald green eyes. “No…no…not my Kieran…no,” she screamed as her mother ran into the room. She silently got on her knees next to her daughter and wrapped her in an embrace, rocking her back and forth as Amanda sobbed and wailed his name. She begged to be taken to the scene--to see for herself. Her mother didn’t want her to go, but Amanda wouldn’t be swayed. She needed to see him. He watched as she bravely approached his still body. She stood there for a long time looking at him, just

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staring at him. Kieran thought maybe she would be ok but that illusion was shattered as she dropped unceremoniously to her knees and pressed her head to his chest, screaming his name over and over. His eyes filled with tears as he stared down at the sleeping angel in his arms. He brushed a lock of her hair from her face as a tear rolled down his face and landed on her cheek. It shimmered in the moonlight, almost glowing as it lay there. He moved to wipe it away when it rose in the air above them. He watched as it glittered and heard a quiet giggle as it lit up and then disappeared. His eyebrows lifted, shocked at the display he’d just witnessed. He knew they were being watched. Some outstanding force that felt their love, joining them again in this life. Magical. Extraordinary. Whatever made this happen, whatever force drew them back together was something he would thank his lucky stars for every day. He smiled down at the sleeping girl in his arms and dropped a kiss on her cheek before settling next to her, her body warming him to the core. Her love enveloping him like a blanket. Together under the gentle falling of snow they slept, curled in each other’s arms, warm and content. They had been blessed with this miracle. Amanda’s dreams and prayers had been answered and Kieran was back in her arms. Where he belonged. Death could not stop their love; they were bound together in this lifetime, past lifetimes and future lifetimes to come. Forever…

The End

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A WINTER’S TALE Joanne Welsh

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Christmas. The time of year when you were either ecstatically happy and optimistic or indescribably depressed. Rarely was there any middle ground. It was either one extreme or the other. Happy people were at their happiest at this time of year. And sad people, well, they were at their saddest. In many ways it made perfect sense. After all, Christmas signaled the end of the year and a new one due to begin. It inspired optimism in those that had had a good year that the following year would bring further good fortune. Whilst the sad, lonely or depressed could only see the end of one year of pain and the beginning of another. It depended on the feeling of the individual at that time. It was either one or the other. Never both. And rarely in between. For Kaelyn Jones, this Christmas was one of the lonely and depressed varieties. It had been a terrible year for her and whatever way she looked at it, she couldn’t imagine it improving in the coming year. It seemed her life had been on a downward spiral. But maybe that’s what happens when you lose the love of your life. They leave, and they take your heart with them. And how can you live without your heart? There’s nothing left when that’s gone. But it belonged to him, and so when he went, her heart went, too. The only thing that she had left was the memories. And truth be told, they only served to make it all so much more painful. They were so clear. The pictures in her head made it like looking in a photo album and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t close it. It seemed that every time she looked at what caused her sadness, her constant loneliness, that she got the same answer. Men, they caused her so much pain and heartache. Her luck with men had been zero. But she had thought she had finally found one of the good ones, someone who cared about her thoughts and feelings and treated her like a queen. That was why she agreed to marry him. She had loved him and she had truly believed he would never hurt her. And then he left, just like the others. All she could think was that for whatever reason, she simply wasn’t worth loving. She didn’t know why, but it was the only thing that made even the slightest bit of sense. After her last boyfriend left, her soul mate she had thought, she lost all faith in love and being worthy of love. It wasn’t possible to believe in love after the pain she had endured at its hands. She was alone now, and never before had she felt that so much as she did now. Because now, with only two days until Christmas, she had no one. She didn’t have a lover whose arms she would wake up in on Christmas morning. No siblings who would be coming to visit. And no parents. Her mother died when she was a child and her father brought her up, but he was gone now too, not dead, just somewhere else. Not with her. So she faced the ultimate loneliness. The forever kind.

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She wished for a change- but had no faith that it would occur. She planned to spend Christmas watching movies, and sleeping. Anything to make the day go by that bit faster. Kaelyn had been staring through the icy window for what seemed like hours. It was nearing midnight, moving from December 23rd to December 24th, Christmas Eve. Taking a breath, she picked up a worn book and started turning the pages. Reading a story about people who still believed, and slowly she began to drift… The snow fell in tiny flakes onto the pavement. So white and soft that it was almost possible to think that pieces of cloud were falling from the sky. All around the streets, the rooftops were powdered with white. It was like a fairy tale, because you would never really think that a scene so beautiful, so perfect, could exist in the real world. The streets were quiet, only a few people were outside, walking quickly as if to get home and out of the snow. But why would anyone want to be locked up inside away from this. It took Kaelyn a few minutes to begin to really see the people around her. The women were dressed in tight corseted jackets, with high necks, teamed with long, somewhat ruffled skirts. The few men that could be seen were dressed in dress jackets with overcoats, many also wearing hats to shield them from the snow. It was extremely peculiar and definitely not the norm. Maybe it was stress related, she thought absently to herself. It was Christmas Eve after all, not her favourite day, and also it was the only thing that made any sense whatsoever. She must be imagining it. Trying to get her bearings, Kaelyn began slowly walking down the street, looking at the ground, ignoring any sounds around her. Just allowing quiet and peace to guide her. The air was cool from the snow, but not too cold. It was a pleasant feeling. She could feel drops falling on her head, but it didn’t bother her at all. She had always liked the snow. Winter was her favourite season. She had never been certain why, there was just something nice about it. And although this year she found it impossible to be happy, she still enjoyed the one fact, and that was that it was winter. So, slowly she strolled along the streets, not heading in any particular direction, or looking for any particular thing. She was simply walking; simply being. Allowing herself to be calm for a while. She had no idea how long she walked for. Probably not very long. Never once did she look in a shop window, nor hear the sound of a passing car. No sound of people chatting or laughing or shopping. Maybe it was earlier than she had thought. What time had she left home? Truthfully, she couldn’t remember. She couldn’t even remember leaving. A little dazed, she looked around and a little ways off she saw a small park. Wandering over, she found a bench and took a seat.

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She sat there and watched the young children skating on the frozen pond. She was mesmerised. She didn’t remember ever having seen it before. To be perfectly honest, she didn’t remember this park, either. She hadn’t seen anyone she knew. She might not have been paying real attention, but surely she would have noticed someone she knew or would have been noticed by someone. It was strange. Looking around, she began to feel lost, like she had no idea where she was. But there was nobody around to ask. So, for the time being, she contented herself with sitting on the bench and watching the laughter of the skaters. They ranged in age, she guessed between 5 and 13. They were all bundled up in mittens and hats. The girls in long dresses and the boys in trousers and shirts. That much she could tell. Some of them she could tell were brothers and sisters. It was shown by how some of the older children held the hands of the younger ones and led them slowly around the ice, laughing with them as they began to get the hang of skating and sharing their fun-filled glee. Friends who were skating with their arms linked, giggling as they circled the pond and chatted giddily, no doubt about the fact that tomorrow was Christmas and the gifts they were hoping to receive. No doubt pretty dresses and dolls were on top of the lists of the girls. Dresses seemed to be popular here, wherever here was. She had to admit, it was nice to see the carefree smiles and hear the laughter of excited children. It had been a long time since she had felt so happy herself. But if she couldn’t feel happiness, she could at least watch it. And where better to see happiness than the faces of children. It brought back memories of her own childhood, a time she could remember vaguely, and those memories could always bring a smile to her face, even if it only lasted but a few minutes. When the present is so bleak, the past, no matter how bad, suddenly seems so colourful. Days of playing in sand-boxes, of dancing around your bedroom to the newest music, first crushes, dance recitals and birthday parties. So often things that just seem normal at the time, but when you look back, you miss them, because at least they were better times. Being in this place was making her think too much, and on Christmas Eve, she didn’t much like the idea of being stuck somewhere she didn’t know. She hadn’t even realised she had walked so far. Hopefully someone would pass by soon and she could be on her way home again. But until then she continued to watch. She was lost in her own little daydream world when she felt the bench creak a little. Someone was sitting beside her. At first she didn’t bother to look round and see who it was, assuming it would be one of the skaters taking a rest for a few minutes. But when she looked down she noticed the person’s feet… much too big to be the feet of a child and obviously the feet of a man. She sat upright and looked to the side. The man gave her a slight smile. He was handsome. He had light brown hair, at least from what she could make out under the hat he wore. His eyes were green with flecks of light brown. He had

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a lovely smile, kind and handsome. She smiled back at him before turning away. Feeling rude, she turned to him again. “Hi.” “Hello,” he replied kindly. She noticed his accent, English. She had never met an Englishman before. The accent was nice though. She figured that he would be able to tell her where she was exactly. “I was wondering if you could tell me something,” she said to him. “Of course,” his reply came with another kind smile. “See, I seem to be a little bit lost. Could you tell me where I am?” “This is St. James’s Park,” he informed her. “And that would be where?” He gave her an odd look, as if surprised that she didn’t know, but he answered her anyway, “London, of course.” Kaelyn’s mouth dropped open. Not able to believe what she was hearing she shook her head. “Very funny, where is it really?” “I’m not lying,” he insisted in his upper-class accent, “this park is in London, England.” “Next you’ll be telling me it’s 1875,” she grumbled angrily. The man stood up looking somewhat perturbed, “Actually it’s 1881. What is the matter with you?” Kaelyn stood up too and faced him, “Nothing is the matter with me, I just don’t like people lying to me.” “I’m not lying,” he insisted vehemently. Kaelyn took a step back, and looked around. The girls in dresses in the middle of winter. Men in top hats and women in skirts. Old fashioned store windows and snow. But it wasn’t possible, was it? She looked back at the man she had been talking to. He certainly didn’t look like a 21st century man. But still, it just made no sense. But the fact was, right now that man was all she had, because whether he was lying or not, she was lost. She plastered an apologetic smile on her face.

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“I am so sorry, I just got so flustered. I have no idea where I am.” “Did you get separated from whomever you were travelling with?” he inquired. Thinking it a plausible explanation she nodded, “I did. I have no idea where they are and I definitely don’t know my way around here, so I can’t find them.” She gave him a sad look, hoping it would have some affect on him. He seemed kind enough. He looked at her sympathetically. She looked so helpless, all alone in a city, a country, that she didn’t know, and it was Christmas after all. The season for good will towards man. With a sigh, he said, “Don’t worry, you’ll find them. But until then, would you allow me to show you around the city?” Kaelyn smiled, “I’d love that, thank you.” The two walked from the park back towards the centre of the town where Kaelyn had first found herself. She still had no clue how it was possible that she could be in London more than a hundred years in the past. But she also knew that she could not contemplate it too much, it would only make her think herself crazy. She had not spoken a word to her new guide since they had left the park almost twenty minutes previously, nor had he spoken a single word to her. The silence was unusual; it was neither comfortable nor awkward. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He had a very handsome profile. It was like a perfectly sculpted statue, not a flaw could be seen. There was a boyish charm about him, but with the grace of a man. She smiled softly as she looked away again. As they continued to walk side by side, Kaelyn thought of questions that it might be wise to ask. She supposed the question at the top of her list should be to ask his name. So, she broke their silence and asked him the question. Without even turning to look at her fully, merely glancing over he answered, “Crawford, Crawford Fletcher.” “It’s nice to meet you.” Kaelyn smiled and stopped walking; they had reached the place where she had started off from earlier in the day. Across the street, she saw a small bench and walked over to it. Sitting down, she waited to be joined by her companion. When he sat down beside her, he turned to her, “And what is your name?” Kaelyn blushed a little, having completely forgotten that she had not yet told him her name, “Kaelyn Jones,” she said. “That is a very unusual name,” he replied, small smile playing on his lips.

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“My mother was a very unique woman.” “Indeed,” Crawford laughed. “So, um, where would you like to start this tour you’re going to give me?” Kaelyn asked him, eager to see around London and take her mind off of the fact that she appeared to be in a time that was not her own. “Well, I have some last minute things to buy for Christmas lunch. I say we explore the shops.” “Sounds good,” Kaelyn grinned and stood up. Gesturing with her hand she announced, “After you.” Crawford walked ahead of her and she followed. Apparently a lot of people were still a little behind on their Christmas shopping. The butcher shop was filled with people buying turkeys at the last minute. Greengrocers were selling brussel sprouts faster than they could ring up the previous purchase. And there were people milling around outside, arms piled high with brightly coloured packages. But the hustle and bustle of the streets of London of this Christmas Eve was so very different to the craziness that Kaelyn was used to. Because although people were busy doing things at the last minute, they were oddly calm about it all. As though completely sure that they would be able to get everything they needed. It was a happy and excited atmosphere. But Kaelyn was used to Christmas Eve being a day where people were stressed, running around a dozen different stores to find that much needed final gift that is out of stock everywhere. There is always something to be done but never enough time to do it and she couldn’t help but think that if the case was the same here, it was a very well cloaked fact. Crawford was currently in the grocers, choosing vegetables. Unlike everyone else he hadn’t headed directly for the sprouts, claiming that he disliked them. Instead, he had a bunch of carrots and some peas that were still in their pods. He said that half of the fun was removing the peas from the pods yourself. Well, the fun for his mother and sister, anyway. He had told her how he lived at home still, and that his mother and sister loved to cook Christmas lunch together and often he would help in someway but often he was busy either keeping guests occupied or making sure that all gifts were arranged to be given out after lunch. It was something that was a family tradition since childhood, after his father had died. She knew this because she had inquired about the tradition and he had told her the story. He was hesitant at first but still he told her. While she waited for him, Kaelyn thought of some of the childhood traditions she remembered that she might share with him at some point. She supposed it was

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only fair, since he had told her about his. After a few more moments, she heard a voice from whoever was standing beside her, “Time to go.” Kaelyn looked at Crawford and then stood aside and let him pass before following him out of the small shop. “So, just what kinds of places are there to visit here?” Kaelyn asked him. “Oh, there are lots. Big Ben is an amazing sight. And a walk along the Thames. There is also an abundance of magnificent chapels. London has such beautiful sights. Especially on a day like this one. A beautiful winter afternoon with snowflakes falling. Everything looks magnificent.” Crawford continued to speak about all of the sights of London and he did so with such enthusiasm that Kaelyn could not hold back the wide grin that grew on her lips. She listened to him, never interrupting even to say how wonderful it all sounded, and as he continued to talk, so she continued to listen. “And we mustn’t forget, all of the shops. You can buy something as a memento of your visit,” he concluded. “That would be wonderful,” Kaelyn replied happily, “but unfortunately, my travelling partners have all of the money.” She hated to lie to him, but she knew the truth was so inconceivable, so she stuck to the story that he himself had concocted. “That is a shame,” Crawford sighed, “but I’m sure we can find some solution.” He smiled kindly before asking, “So, where would you wish to begin?” Kaelyn stood still for a moment, thinking it over. She knew there was something she always thought would be a great thing to experience, but was it possible? Only one way to find out. “I don’t suppose it’s possible to have a horse and cart ride along the Thames?” She looked on hopefully and was excited when she saw the smile that crossed Crawford’s lips. “Of course, we shall have to walk a little first, though.” Kaelyn was so excited she could have hugged him, but she knew it would likely startle him and it was most definitely improper, at least in his time it was. So, she contained her excitement and merely nodded her head and replied, “No problem.”

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They started walking side-by-side, chatting amiably as they went. Crawford told Kaelyn all about London and the things he had seen there, while Kaelyn told him about life in America, trying not to mention things that had not yet happened, giving him just minor details about her life and some little things she remembered from History class at school. He seemed very interested to hear about the states, but it didn’t surprise her very much now that she was starting to relax and just enjoying being where she was. After all, it was a once in a lifetime thing for him. She remembered that in this year it wasn’t as simple as booking a plane ticket and flying from one place to another. Travelling around the world wasn’t something that just anybody could do; it was very different and more expensive. So she was only happy to indulge him with some information. After walking for around ten minutes, they came to a stop. Lined up along the path was around five horse and carts, and behind them was a full, beautiful view of the Thames. It was breathtaking. Kaelyn had seen the Pacific Ocean, swam in it even, but something was different about this. Sure, there were rivers in the states but, this was London, and it was the Thames. Maybe to some people it wouldn’t be a big deal, but it was for her. Why it was such a big deal she wasn’t quite sure, but it was. She waited while Crawford spoke to one of the men on the horse and cart. She watched as he handed over some money and then he motioned for her to join him. When she did, he took her hand and helped her into the cart, getting in beside her as she sat down. They sat quietly as the cart first began to move. Kaelyn looked over at the river as they moved. It really was beautiful. However, a few moments later, Crawford disturbed the silence with a question, “Tell me a little about your family.” Kaelyn was taken by surprise. Her family had been the one subject she had tried to stay away from. He had told her about his own family, but she had avoided hers. It wasn’t that she was ashamed to talk about them. But rather it hurt to. But this time, there was no avoiding it. “That is a very difficult subject. And a long story.” “I’m willing to listen,” he prompted. “I would very much like to hear about that unique mother of yours.” Kaelyn gave him a small, sad smile. “She died, when I was a child. I don’t remember what happened. I only know what I’ve been told and that is that she got very sick. And well, nothing could be done for her. My father raised me. He tried his best, but it wasn’t the same. Like any girl, I needed a mother more than anything. A father couldn’t teach you how to do your hair in the latest style, or about what clothes everyone was wearing. They may be trivial things, but growing up, they don’t seem so trivial.”

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Crawford never uttered a word while she told the story of growing up an only child with no mother and how rough it was being brought up by her father alone. He could understand to quite an extent. He had a sister, but his father died when he was a teenager and his mother had brought him and his sister up. Of course, once he reached a certain age he was considered in society to be the head of the house; after all, he was the oldest and only male. But no matter what age you were, it was always difficult not having a parent around that should have been the one to teach you about certain aspects of life that the parent you did have just couldn’t teach you. He could understand her pain. When she stopped talking, they both remained quiet. They sat together, just watching the sights of the city go past them and although he was surprised, Crawford said nothing when Kaelyn softly laid her head on his shoulder. Kaelyn sighed as she lay her head down. The sights that they passed were magnificent. Houses with rooftops layered with snow, the streets almost completely white. You could clearly see the footprints of passers-by, although they were soon covered by more snow once more. There were Cathedrals more beautiful than she could ever have envisioned, and Big Ben stood high above the city, like a guardian watching over everyone on Christmas Eve, only speckles of snow covering it. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. Living where she did, snow was a rare thing, and it didn’t have the culture that Victorian London did. Being able to see all of this made her feel lucky. And as for the man she got to experience it all with, well, she didn’t know what to think. He was handsome, no doubt about it, and he had been kind to her throughout the day, despite their slight row that morning. And she could relate to him. He understood her because he had experienced the loss of a parent. The only difference was that he had known his dad, which probably made his death more painful. But still, he understood what it was like. She had never met anyone before who had felt that same pain. She felt like in some way it made a greater connection between them. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. He was looking straight ahead and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was simply admiring the beauty of the scenery, or thinking about something else; something deeper. ~ He was in fact thinking of something other than the scenery, he was thinking about her. It was highly unusual for a girl he had only just made acquaintance with to be so intimate with him as to lay her head upon his shoulder, and it worried him that he didn’t mind it. Not in the slightest. The butterflies he felt in his stomach when he felt her so near were unlike anything he had ever felt before, and it wasn’t proper to want a girl so, but she was undeniably beautiful. Her long brown hair falling in curls to her shoulders and her blue eyes, although sad, sparkled like diamonds. And she was sweet, but feisty. That much he knew,

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considering how adamant and ready to defend just how much she was right she had been that morning. She was unlike any girl he had ever met. He wondered if all American girls were like her, or if she was simply one of a kind. ~ When the carriage came to a halt they both started. Wondering where the time had gone. The whole thing seemed to have gone by so quickly. Kaelyn sat up straight, blushing slightly, while Crawford stepped down from the carriage and then held a hand out to her so that he could help her down. She smiled thankfully and hopped down onto the ground, feeling her feet sinking slightly in the snow. Crawford thanked the driver and then offered an arm to Kaelyn, “Did you enjoy the ride?” he asked her. “I really did, this is such a beautiful city. I always imagined visiting here but never thought it would be this amazing. The sights are fantastic.” Her voice was full of glee as she spoke, sounding like a child as she regaled her parents with tales of faeries and castles in a dream. “I’m glad you like it. I’m sure you will get to explore in more depth when you find your companions. Are you travelling with your father?” They walked as they spoke and Kaelyn came to an abrupt stop, wondering just how she was going to explain this to him. “Um, no,” she said slowly. “Husband?” Without realising it he grimaced slightly at the word. “No, no husband,” she smiled. “Oh, well, then, who?” “I’m so sorry, it seems that I deceived you a little. I’m not travelling with anyone. I’m here alone. It’s a long story and I promise I’ll tell you it eventually, but for now, just keep showing me around?” Her voice was small and pleading. She looked up at him as she awaited his answer. “Of course. I just hope that you feel you can tell me why you are here alone.” “I will, eventually.” With that, Kaelyn linked their arms again and continued along the street. ~

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The hours seemed to pass in a blur and before she knew it, it was 4 o’clock and almost time for the shops to close. The streets were emptying little by little, everyone heading home for dinner, but there was still something Kaelyn wanted to do, “Can we go and look at the Christmas decorations in that shop?” she asked. She pointed across the street at a small shop, the window filled with delicate decorations. A small Christmas tree stood in one corner, many of the decorations hanging from it. “Certainly,” Crawford answered, smiling at her as they crossed the road. He walked on a little ahead of her and held the door open for her as she caught up to him. She walked into the store and smiled as the small bell above the door jingled. She looked around in wonder. This shop, unlike most of the others, was filled completely with Christmas decorations--decorative wreaths and boughs of holly, tiny candles, stars for the top of the tree. It was breathtaking. She walked around, admiring everything on offer, her fingers tracing pieces of delicate crystal and beautifully cut glass, in all shapes and sizes. There were bows made of velvet and trimmed with golden thread. But as she continued to look, one thing caught her eye. On one shelf there was a small angel made of beautifully cut, clear crystal with a halo and wings made of gold. If she closed her eyes, she could probably have envisioned that it was the angel Gabriel himself, heralding the birth of something, someone, special. An amazing day, quite like the one she herself was having. She traced her fingers along it, memorizing it. And then it was plucked from the shelf. She turned round. “Do you like it?” Crawford asked her, looking over it carefully. “Yes, it’s beautiful.” “Then it’s yours.” He walked over to a counter where an elderly man, the shop owner she guessed, stood. He smiled at the two young people. “I will take this, thank you,” Crawford placed the small angel on the counter. The man nodded and went about packaging the ornament. Kaelyn didn’t speak while they waited; she didn’t know really what to say. Part of her wondered if Crawford buying her the angel meant something, but the other part chastised her for being silly, that he was only being nice to her because she was alone. She was startled when she heard the man speak and hold the package out to Crawford who took it and then handed over the money for the ornament. The man thanked them and wished them a good day, and then they left the shop. Standing outside Crawford held the small velvet bag out to her

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“For you.” Taking it for him, Kaelyn blushed slightly, “Thanks, you really didn’t have to do that. But I do appreciate it.” “It was my pleasure, a beautiful memento of your time here,” his voice was soft and kind. But there was something more. She just couldn’t pinpoint what it was. ~ Crawford had seen her face in the shop as she looked at the angel. The look was so serene, like something had come over her and taken her away to a land of complete happiness so whatever sadness she had endured in this world carried no pain or meaning in those few moments. She had handled it with such gentleness and care, and a look of longing that she probably didn’t realise was showing. Watching her, he felt like he could see into her heart and know just what she wanted, how she felt, and all he wanted to do right then was to wrap his arms around her and give her everything she ever had wanted or would want from now on. But he knew that wasn’t possible. But he could give her the angel. “I assume you have no plans for the evening,” he went on after a moment had passed, and at the shake of her head, confirming his assumption, he continued, “Would you care to join my family and I for supper? I’m afraid we go to midnight mass but you are more than welcome to join us.” Kaelyn considered her options for a moment. She could join a handsome man that had just bought her a gift in a warm house for dinner, or she could walk around outside in the snow, in the dark. “I’d love to.” They walked, like they had all day, side by side through the snow. It was only a short walk until Kaelyn found herself standing in front of a quaint little town house. A small candle shone in the window and the glow of a small lamp could also be seen. She followed her companion up the path and waited shyly as he opened the door, gesturing for her to go inside. She did so, looking around as she stepped through the door. Kaelyn walked behind Crawford into what she assumed was the sitting room. It was lovely. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, elegantly decorated in bows like the ones she had admired not long ago. A star adorned the top of the tree. It was simple, but beautiful. On a small sofa sat a young girl of around fifteen. She was wearing a dress like those all the women she had seen that morning, but it was simpler. It was lemon in colour and the petticoat wasn’t too puffy. The collar made of lace, only coming ever so slightly up to her neck. She looked up when she heard the two newcomers enter the room and smiled as she rose to greet her brother,

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“Crawford, we though you had gotten lost. You’ve been gone all day,” noticing Kaelyn standing behind him she looked curious, “Who is your companion?” “Charlotte, go and get Mum and then I shall introduce you all.” When his sister left the room he looked over at Kaelyn apologetically, “Sorry, she’s terribly curious. Especially when people come that she has never met.” “It’s ok.” Silence fell over the room again, but for the first time in hours, the silence between them was uncomfortable. Throughout the day there had been many silences, but they were friendly and comfortable, like natural extended pauses between bouts of friendly chatter. They had gotten to know each other well that day, exchanging tales of childhood and games they used to play, of favourite books and pastimes. In many ways it felt like they had known each other for years, not hours. To go back to awkwardness was upsetting and both could only hope it wouldn’t last. It wasn’t long before Charlotte was back. This time a middle-aged woman was with her, Crawford’s mother. She was small, with hair the same light brown as her son’s but greying at the roots. She wore a dress similar to Charlotte’s, only it was green and she wore an apron over it. She was clearly in the middle of making dinner. “Who is our visitor, Crawford?” Mrs. Fletcher asked. “Mum, this is Kaelyn Jones. She has unfortunately been parted from her travelling companions and so I have been showing her around. I told her she could join us for dinner.” It did not go unnoticed by Kaelyn that he had reverted back to her original story as the reason for her presence, but she also knew it was just because it made things easier. “Kaelyn,” Crawford went on, “this is my mother.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand to Mrs. Fletcher who shook it kindly, and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you also, Kaelyn, and of course, you are more than welcome to join us.” She then gestured to the young girl, who was the spitting image of Crawford, only with longer hair that fell in curls and the features were softer, “And this is my daughter, Charlotte.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kaelyn went through the same procedure, shaking hands with the girl who replied “And you.”

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“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Mrs. Fletcher said, still smiling, “I’m sure Charlotte and yourself will find something to speak about. Crawford, will you help me set the table please?” Kaelyn watched worriedly as he left the sitting room, leaving her with Charlotte. She stood, awkward, in the middle of the room, unsure of what to say. Eventually Charlotte laughed. “You know, you can sit down. I don’t bite.” Kaelyn giggled a little, “Sorry,” she walked over and sat down beside Charlotte, “Your home is beautiful. We don’t have any houses like this back in the states.” Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with glee, “You come from America?” Kaelyn nodded. “How wonderful, I have always wanted to visit America. But I doubt I ever will.” “Maybe you will one day, we have some beautiful monuments, but it’s nothing like here. This place is amazing. I’ve never seen anywhere so beautiful, and I’ve never seen so much snow.” Charlotte rolled her eyes, “I’m not very fond of the snow. It gets so cold. I much prefer the summer, when there are butterflies everywhere and pretty flowers are blooming. I wish it could be summer all year round.” “Constant sun isn’t as much fun as you’d think,” Kaelyn objected, “Where I live it rarely gets very cold and, while it is nice, sometimes you just want a white Christmas.” “I suppose,” Charlotte agreed, “that it is a matter of the grass not always being greener on the other side. No matter how much you assume it is.” “Exactly.” ~ Crawford watched the two girls chattering animatedly. It surprised him just how glad he was that Kaelyn and his sister got along well. He had no idea what they were speaking of, but whatever it was, both were enjoying themselves. He hated to break it up, but it was time for dinner. And time, he told himself, to see how Kaelyn would get on with his mother. Why was he worried about that as much as he was? It wasn’t like Kaelyn was going to be a permanent figure in his life. But watching her, in his home, with his family, he felt a longing such as he never had before. He had had so much fun

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today. He felt like he had met someone that he really connected with, that he understood and who understood him. They had gone through similar experiences and felt the pain of loss. He felt like they were twin souls and that something had brought them together. But then he chastised himself. He always had been an overly romantic fool. Never settling for a wife because he didn’t feel like she was the right one. But he couldn’t help but wonder if he had found her now. ~ Kaelyn had seen him watching them. She let a small smile creep over her, silently wondering what he was thinking as Charlotte continued to speak. She wondered what he was feeling, especially what he was feeling about her. It was a shock to her system that she found herself caring for him, so quickly and at all. After all, the main source of her pain was her heart and the men that she let into it. But his small gestures, like agreeing to show her around, the carriage ride, buying her the angel and inviting her to eat with his family, they were the kind of small, but incredibly sweet gestures that managed to make her smile and feel better. And that was a good thing. And maybe there wasn’t anything wrong in falling for him just a little. After all, he seemed to be one of the good ones. And he was handsome on top of that. And this day, it was like a daydream. Maybe in that daydream, she should allow her heart to be open again. Just for the day. ~ When everyone was seated around the dinner table a little while later and eating their meal of chicken and stuffing with potatoes and vegetables, it was mostly quiet with only a sentence being uttered here and there. Kaelyn decided that it must just be one of those things that happened in this time, but she still felt like she should say something. “This is a beautiful meal, Mrs. Fletcher. I wish I could cook like this.” “Thank you Kaelyn,” Mrs. Fletcher said by way of reply. Everything went quiet again but Charlotte broke that, “Mum is an amazing cook. Her meals are always fantastic. You must join us one Sunday for lunch if you are still here, mustn’t she Mum?” “Of course, you are most welcome to join us for another meal some time. Perhaps I could even teach you how to cook something.” The older woman smiled over at her kindly. And Kaelyn wondered if her own mother would have had that same kind smile. “If I’m still here, that would be wonderful.”

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The dinner carried on with a little more chatter, everyone simply talking about the events of the day. Kaelyn and Crawford filled in his mother and sister on their day of touring the city, of the carriage ride and seeing Big Ben. Kaelyn told them how Crawford had found her in the park that morning while she was watching the skaters and upon learning she was lost, offered to show her around. Charlotte and Mrs. Fletcher told Kaelyn stories about Crawford as an infant and a teenager. How he loved to draw and had quite a talent for it. Christmas had always been his favourite holiday and he’d always wake early on Christmas morning in excitement to see if Santa had come. Apparently he had believed in the old bearded man until his teen years. Kaelyn laughed heartily along with them. Feeling like part of them. Like she belonged. “Crawford, could you show me some of your drawings?” Kaelyn asked him when dinner was finished and Kaelyn and Mrs. Fletcher were washing up. “I’m not…” She could see he was about to deny her request, so she added, “Please?” pouting slightly. Unable to deny her, he nodded, “Alright, they’re in the drawing room. Come with me.” The drawing room was just along the hall from the main sitting room. Inside sat an oak drawing desk and chair. Atop it she could see a large bundle of papers. She walked over and looked down at them. The top picture was of Charlotte. She was sitting by a piano, laughing. She looked slightly younger in the drawing. “That day was a few years ago,” Crawford spoke from behind her, “It is a day I always remember, Charlotte was only eleven years old. But Mother had taught her how to play when she was just an infant. That day, she had played a new song to us and when we applauded her, she laughed. It was like any other day. But I always remember that particular day.” “It’s beautiful,” Kaelyn’s voice was filled with awe. She leafed through the other pages. There were drawings of everything. Of landscapes of flowing hills and rivers. Of animals and the streets of London. Not to mention many more portraits of his sister. “You’re very talented,” she told him. “Thank you,” his cheeks flushed pink, and it caused Kaelyn to giggle a little. He watched her, noticing how her eyes sparkled. She was as beautiful as a picture he never wanted to forget. “Would you allow me to sketch you?” Kaelyn was taken by surprise, “Me? Why?”

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“I want to remember you.” The statement was simple, but the meaning was not. Neither could decipher it. “Ok, I’d like that.” Crawford pulled out a small stool and motioned to it, “Sit here. S” she did, and so he seated himself behind his desk. Pulling out a fresh sheet of paper and setting his other drawing materials out, he looked at her, imprinting her image in his mind, and then looking down at the page, he began to draw. He drew her long flowing hair and big blue eyes, her long neck and slender body, hidden only slightly beneath her dress. When he had sketched those, he put more detail into the face. Trying his best to capture the high cheekbones, so well defined and beautiful. A cute button nose, and finally, that beautiful smile. The feature that made the whole drawing. Her smile was what he never wanted to not see. To not see that smile again would be devastating, and he only realised it in that moment. ~ As he drew her, a look of both thoughtfulness and contentment on his face, Kaelyn wondered what he was thinking. Was she simply an object, something he could make into art, or did her want to draw her for another reason? She couldn’t deny that the love and caring she could see in his drawings made her hope for the latter, but more than that, just the way he had been with her made her hope for that. It was difficult trying not to move as he drew, but she knew that she had to stay still. Her mind was so full with thoughts that it was almost impossible. What would she think of the drawing? Would he put as much love into it as he did to the others? And why did she want him to put love into it? Because she was falling in love with him. Should she? No, she knew that, but it didn’t change that she was. She didn’t know or understand why, and really, it didn’t matter. If she could feel something other than the pain of her heart being torn into pieces, shouldn’t she grasp it for however short a time it may last? She knew this wasn’t permanent, that it wouldn’t last, but she had promised herself that she would let her heart be open. Didn’t that mean allowing it to feel what it felt? Even if that was love that couldn’t last? She supposed it did. When he was finished the drawing, Crawford stood, “Would you like to see it?” “Please,” Kaelyn took it from him, holding it gingerly as she stared down at it. It may sound crazy, but it was like she was looking in a mirror. But not just because it really did capture her image, but also because it captured her essence. She was smiling, but there was still sadness in her sparkling eyes. It was how she felt, that you can be happy and in pain at the same time. But today, as the drawing revealed, the happiness was prevailing. “It’s stunning,” she whispered.

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“I’m glad that you think so,” he looked down at her. They looked at one another for a moment, becoming lost in each other. Neither knew what to say, but they didn’t want to say anything, anyway. Both wanted to kiss, but neither willing to take the risk. So they stood and looked and allowed themselves to stay in the moment. Until a knock came at the door and Charlotte walked in. “Sorry to interrupt, but mother said that it’s time to get ready to leave for Mass. It’s almost nine pm and she would like to walk through the park to the Cathedral.” “Okay, Charlotte, we will be along in a moment.” Charlotte nodded and left again. Kaelyn held the drawing back out to him, their hands brushing as he took it from her and set it on top of his desk. “Thanks again.” “Of course. So, are you going to join us at Mass?” “Sure, I may as well experience more of this wonderful city on Christmas Eve, and the walk will be nice.” “It is, and the Mass is wonderful. You will love the Cathedral.” And with that, things were mostly back to normal. The snow was falling more lightly now, and it was dark as they walked through the same park that Kaelyn had found herself in that morning. Charlotte and her mother were walking slightly ahead of herself and Crawford. “Tell me more about your mother,” Crawford requested. “I don’t know very much, only what my father told me, but from her pictures, I know that she was beautiful. She had hair so long and dark, quite like mine, only curlier, and she had brown eyes. Big and beautiful. I get my hair from my mom and eyes from my dad. Anyway, my mom, she was a nurse. A midwife actually. She delivered babies and my dad always told me that she loved her job. That she always had a story to tell about a newborn. Whether it be a little girl with the bluest eye you ever saw, or a baby boy with a full head of dark hair. It was her life.” “She sounds wonderful.” “I think she was. I don’t know it. It’s just a feeling, an instinct, and even though I never knew her, I miss her.” “I’m sorry.” Crawford said sadly.

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“Not your fault. What about your dad, what was he like?” “Well,” Crawford took a breath before starting, “my father was a wonderful man. He loved to read and used to read me stories. He played piano and he used to play with Charlotte often. I myself was never interested in learning to play. So instead he taught me about books and art. It was he who taught me to draw. At least, as much as one can be taught. I once drew a portrait of him, but no-one has ever viewed it.” Kaelyn listened silently, moving closer to him, and as he finished his story she clasped his hand in hers. “He sounds great.” “He was,” Crawford countered, and they continued walking.

Crawford felt warm when he felt her hand in his. Under normal circumstances, he would most likely have objected in some way. It wasn’t proper after all, but Kaelyn wasn’t the normal kind of girl you would find here. To hold her hand didn’t seem or feel wrong or improper, but rather it felt perfect. And so he didn’t object. “One day, I want to lie in the snow and make a snow angel,” Kaelyn decided aloud. “And why would that be?” “I don’t know; it just seems like it would be fun. And it isn’t something I’ve ever done before.” Getting a mischievous glint in her eye she untangled their hands and looked him in the eye, “and you know what they say. There’s no time like the present.” She took off at a jog, heading for a deeper patch of snow ahead. Crawford took off after her, calling out to her. Charlotte and Mrs Fletcher watched the antics, not sure what was going on or what to think. And before they knew it, Kaelyn was lying in the snow. Kaelyn laughed as she lay there, scissoring her arms and legs open and closed. Crawford was towering over her trying not to laugh along with her, but her excitement soon won him over and he laughed too. She stood up and leapt over the outline so as not to destroy the angel. She looked down at her very first snow angel “Isn’t it pretty?” she giggled. “It is,” Crawford agreed. “That was fun,” Kaelyn looked at her snow angel, the wings a little uneven but she didn’t care. “I suppose we should get going again.”

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“We should,” this time Crawford took the lead and entwined their hands once more, and they continued on their way to the cathedral. The rest of the journey took around thirty minutes. It was filled this time with silence, both Kaelyn and Crawford content to walk in quiet with their hands clasped together. As they approached the Cathedral, they saw a steady stream of people walking inside. Entire families and people on their own. All there to celebrate the day to come. As they entered the Cathedral, Crawford and Kaelyn shared a look. Kaelyn’s look of uncertainty being met with Crawford’s look of reassurance. They took a seat in a pew near the back of the already crowded Cathedral. While her other three friends kneeled in prayer, she sat on her seat. She closed her eyes as her mind drifted. She let her thoughts be overtaken by the feelings she felt when she was walking through the park hand in hand with Crawford. She had inwardly wished that Mrs. Fletcher and Charlotte hadn’t been there, because knowing they were in such close proximity meant she was always a little tense, but at least she was with him, and that was a fact that made her happy. Walking with him, she had thought of the day in its entirety, from being all alone in the park to a carriage ride with him by her side, and then a beautiful dinner surrounded by people who had welcomed her and made her at home. As she remembered the dinner as she sat in the pew, other pictures crept in. She saw herself, alone at a kitchen table with a plate of pasta in front of her. She pushed it aside. Reminding herself that it was not going to happen. She wasn’t alone now. She thought of walking through the park and how happy she had felt, until it was shoved aside and her head filled with memories of sitting alone on her porch as the sun set, tears in her eyes. Opening her eyes, she looked at her watch. It read 11:45 p.m., she stood up and excused herself and headed back outside. As she did so, more memories filled her head. A little more pain blending with the happiness she was currently feeling. Outside, she gulped for air. Trying to calm down. She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. She spun around and saw that it was only Crawford. “Is everything alright?” he asked, his worry evident in his voice. “I don’t know.” She looked around until she saw a clock it was nearing 11:55 and the memories were occurring more frequently now. “Crawford, remember earlier I said I would tell you eventually why I was here alone? Well the truth is, that it’s because I had my heart broken. But that isn’t what matters. What I want to say is thank you. I come from somewhere much further away than you could possibly imagine, and back there lies a lot of pain. But today, you took that away and I am so grateful. I won’t ever forget it, but, well, I think it’s time for me to go back now.”

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“Why? Can’t you stay a while longer?” Looking at the clock as the seconds slipped away, Kaelyn shook her head in the negative, “I’m sorry.” Crawford took her hand, “Kaelyn, please, stay a little longer.” “I wish that I could, but it’s just not possible.” “But, I’m falling in love with you. Can’t you see that? I love you.” With one last look at the clock she saw that it was approaching midnight and so without a word she leaned into him and the kissed him. Gently, but full of passion, full of thanks and wonder. Not only were their lips fused together but also it felt like their souls were. It felt like in that moment they had become one person, one heart. Soul mates. Kindred spirits. Any other name you wanted to give it. Each one applied to them. In just one day they had found their perfect match. The person who knew them, their soul, who understood their pain and their longing for something that they could never have, because what they wanted was each other and they were miles apart, but also years apart. They were from different times, literally different worlds. But as Kaelyn realised in that minute, it didn’t matter. She had found her soul’s companion; he had just been born a century too early. She had always felt she wasn’t meant for love, that there was no match for her, but now she knew that her match was simply from another time, and that it was possible that your match existed, just too far away to be with. ~ When she opened her eyes again, she was lying on the couch in her living room, her book still opened on her chest. She sat up and looked around in a daze. Had she imagined it? She must have, it was too impossible to be real. It had simply been a wonderful dream. A dream that had helped her in many ways, and that surprised her. Her pain was slightly less now. She could picture him so clearly, his light brown hair and green eyes, standing tall by her side, a smile so warm and genuine that it would melt the snow as well as her heart. It was a wonderful dream. When she was a little more awake, she realised that her hand was clenched shut. She opened it and saw a small velvet bag within it. She opened the ribbon it was tied with and pulled out its contents. A small angel made of beautifully cut, clear crystal, with a halo and wings made of gold. If she closed her eyes she could probably have envisioned that it was the angel Gabriel himself, heralding the birth of something, someone, special. An amazing day, quite like the one she herself was having. She traced her fingers along it, memorizing it.

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And finally she brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss on it. And in a whisper she said, “I love you too, thank you.”

The End

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