A Cowboy's Christmas Promise (20 page)

Hayley took a deep breath and returned her attention to Bryn and Gracie, who had almost finished tearing off all the tape from their presents. “Just a quick question here. How much tape does this household go through in one holiday?”

“Reams,” Daniel said, smiling.

Finally the wrapping paper fell to the floor and both girls held up their gifts, and Hayley had to blink hard to hold back tears when she saw what they'd done.

“Do you like it?” Gracie held up a picture she had painted. “Look—this is me and Brynnie and you playing animal hospital.”

Bryn slid hers toward Hayley as well. “I painted us at the wedding in our beautiful dresses. But I painted you a pink one because you didn't love yours.”

Hayley hugged them tightly. She already knew she'd treasure these little watercolors forever.

“These are absolutely fabulous! How did I not know you two were artists?”

“So you like them?” Bryn cuddled closer.

“Are you kidding? I absolutely love them, and I'm going to put them up in my office just as soon as I get back to Boston.”

“Really? In your vet's office?”

“Right smack in the waiting room where everybody can see them, yes. They're that good.”

Gracie jumped up and grabbed Bryn's hand. “Did you hear that? We're going to be famous!”

Daniel laughed, a low chuckle that Hayley could swear she felt from her stomach right down to her toes. “All right, girls. It's been a long day. Time for pj's and teeth.”

“No-oo-oo-oo,” the girls chorused, grabbing on to Hayley's hands.

“Hayley will be here for a whole week. We don't have to cram everything into one night.”

“She's staying
here
?” Gracie's eyes went wide, her smile growing as well.

“No.” Both Hayley and Daniel jumped to answer. Hayley waved to let him continue. “She's staying with Kyla and Jess at Whisper Creek.”

Gracie yawned. “It would be easier if you stayed here. Then we wouldn't have to go so far to see you.”

Hayley smiled. She hated to admit that the thought had certainly crossed her mind, especially when she'd spotted Daniel's king-sized bed upstairs earlier. With its dark-green duvet and pile of pillows settled against an alcove window, it looked like the kind of bed you could happily stay in for days on end.

She swallowed and cleared her throat, hoping Daniel wouldn't notice.

“Well, I think you have some other guests coming, don't you? They're going to want you all to themselves.” She tugged Gracie's braid softly. “I'll be just a few minutes away, so we can see each other lots, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Why do you think I came, anyway?”

“To see Daddy?”

Hayley looked over her head at Daniel, who raised an eyebrow and winked. “Nope. I came here to see you two.
And
taste your amazing cupcakes that you promised we'd make, so let's get your teeth brushed. Then we'll make a cupcake party plan. Deal?”

“Deal!” The girls slapped her outstretched hands, then raced up the stairs.

Daniel was silent, appraising her for a moment. Then he smiled softly. “I think we need to talk about this cupcake addiction of yours.”

“I have no addictions.”

“Says the woman who creates National Chocolate Cupcake Day on the fly.”

“So maybe I have a small problem.”

“That you're about to rope my girls into?”

“It's important for girls to learn the healing power of chocolate at an early age so they're equipped for later.”

“Really.”

“All women know it, yes.”

A funny feeling quivered low in her stomach, and Hayley realized that she'd spent so much time feeling sad for the girls' past that she hadn't really stopped to consider their future. Who was going to teach them about boys? About getting their periods? About—chocolate?

An hour later, the girls were both splayed across their beds, sound asleep, and Hayley was wiping off the table, trying to unglue her eyes from Daniel, who had just put away the last supper dish. Was it because she was so
not
domestic that she found the sight of a man in the kitchen so alluring?

“That was seriously delicious spaghetti, by the way.” Hayley scrubbed a spot on the table. “The perfect Christmas dinner.”

“Are you making fun of my cooking skills, Miss Chef Boyardee?”

“Nope, not at all. I thought your blend of sauces was exquisite. I didn't know Ragu and Prego worked so well together when you're almost out of both. And that spaghetti!” She kissed her fingers and flung them like a good Italian mom. “Perfectly al dente.”

“I'm detecting a note of sarcasm.”

“None intended. Promise.”

“You really aren't one to talk smack about cooking, are you?”

She turned around to put glasses away in the cupboard above the counter. “This is not smack. I've never had such a spaghetti, and me! Growing up on Scampini Square! I know my spaghetti!”

“Watch it, Scampini.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else you'll find
out
what. We McKees know how to handle you Italians.”

“Oh, do you?” She turned around. “Do tell.”

He took a step toward her. “First we immobilize them.”

She swallowed. “Oh.”

“Then we silence them.”

He stepped close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Her internal thermometer cranked up in response, especially when his hands slid around her rib cage, tickling just slightly.

“Tell me it's the best spaghetti you've ever had.” His voice was low, playfully dangerous as he paused his fingers.

“I did!”

“Tell me like you actually mean it this time, then.” His fingers twitched.

“Well, you don't understand. I grew up with Grandpa Franconi Scampini. He did a mean spaghetti!” She squeaked as his fingers squeezed, tickling her skillfully. “Come on! It's no fair! I'm Italian!”

She bent forward, trying to escape his fingers, but that only made him pull her closer to him. “Say uncle, Scampini. I can do this all night.”

“I don't do uncle.”

“Does that mean you
want
me to do this all night?” His fingers shifted from tickling to a strong, sure bracing of her ribs, but they didn't move.

“Um.” Her thoughts spun. His hands felt so good on her.
Too good. Way, way too good.
She didn't want to move, for fear of dislodging them, but then again, she wanted desperately to move so that they'd move, too, and travel her body from her head to her toes and everywhere in between.

He slid his hands slowly down to her hips, and she could feel their heat every millimeter of the way. Then she felt him touch his lips to her neck, ever so softly.

“I've missed you, Hayley.”

She tipped her head, exposing more of her neck, and moaned softly as he kissed her again.

“I—I have not missed you one little bit. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He slid his left hand upward and pulled her hair sideways, bringing his lips closer and closer to her ear.

Hayley heard another small moan escape her lips, then clamped them together. He pulled her earlobe between his lips.

“Tell me you missed me.”

His right hand flattened against her lower back, sliding downward as he kissed her neck and ear. Then he placed his hands on the counter on either side of her and she swallowed hard, feeling deliciously trapped.

“I've…been busy.” She knew she was breathing too fast, knew he could probably tell, and yet she could do nothing to stop it from happening. In his eyes she saw the promise of heat, passion, protection, and if not for his arms bracing her against the cool counter, she feared she might actually slide to the floor for real.

He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on her jaw.

“You really didn't miss me?”

“No,” came her strangled whisper.

He slid both hands up her stomach, this time brushing her breasts with his thumbs, making her gasp just as his lips claimed hers.

“Now?”

“No.”

His thumbs made small circles as he kissed her again. “Now?”

“God, Daniel.” Her lower body arched to meet his. “Okay! Mercy! Uncle! I missed you, okay?”

“That's better.” He smiled against her mouth, bringing his left hand up to slide it along her jaw and into her hair. “Because I'm really, really glad you're here.”

“You're really, really good at showing it.” Hayley felt her control snap just about the same time his free hand rounded her backside and his tongue met hers.

They stayed tangled like that for what seemed like both forever and a millisecond at the same time, Hayley clinging to his shirt as his hands made every nerve ending spring to life.

Finally he broke the kiss, hands on her waist and forehead touching hers. She was relieved to know she wasn't the only one breathing hard, not the only one visibly aching for more.

“I wasn't planning to miss you, Hayls.” His voice was low, tortured as he moved to kiss her collarbone.

“I wasn't going to miss you, either.” She buried her fingers in his thick, wavy hair and tipped her head back, eyes closed, drinking in the sensations spinning through her body.

“But…then I did.”

His kisses slowed, moved lower as he lifted her to the counter.

“It's—
God
—highly inconvenient.”

“And here you are.”

“Here I am,” she whispered.

And then his lips met hers again, in a kiss so searing she felt absolutely dizzy. His hands cupped her jaw tenderly, then slid ever so slowly through her hair and down her arms, linking with her hands when he reached them.

He let go and let his fingers trail along the edge of her shirt, and it was all Hayley could do not to pull him upstairs. She wrapped her legs around his waist, desperate to have him close to her—desperate, suddenly, to have so much more.

In a move that made her feel no heavier than a wisp of tissue paper, Daniel slid her off the shelf and carried her through the doorway to the living room, never breaking their kiss. He headed toward the stairs, where Hayley came to her senses and pulled her head back from his. No way was she going to let him break his back hauling her up a flight of steps.

“You're not going to try to carry me up the stairs, are you?”

He smiled, then kissed her again. “I muscle barn animals for a living. I think I can handle you, Scampini.”

Before she could do anything more than squeak in protest, he lifted her over his shoulder and started up the stairs.

Hayley laughed, pounding softly on his back. “Is this the caveman approach to seduction?”

“I don't know. Is it working?”

“No, because I'm too busy worrying that you're going to drop me on my head to feel all that seduced.”

He chuckled as they reached the top stair and turned right toward his bedroom. “I'll see what I can do to remedy that.” With one hand still holding her legs steady, he reached out the other one and closed the door behind them.

“No fair. You're not even breathing hard.”

“Not yet.”

He slid her down his body, and as her feet reached the floor, his warm, sure hands slid first her sweater over her head, then her cami, leaving her shivery in anticipation as she watched his eyes drink in the contours of her body.

He kissed her collarbone, fingers sliding under the black strap of her bra. “I've been wanting this, wanting you, ever since the wedding.”

Hayley didn't know what to say as his lips traveled deliciously up her neck, toward her earlobes, as his hands slid downward and slowly, excruciatingly, undid the button and zipper of her jeans. He pushed them downward toward her ankles, and she could only sigh in keyed-up, contented bliss.

“Hayley?” His voice was dark, devastating as it vibrated against her neck.

“Hmm?”

“Are you actually, finally speechless?”

Two delicious hours later, Hayley sat once again on Daniel's counter, this time clad only in his robe.

“Are you hungry?” Daniel asked as he opened the fridge. He'd pulled on flannel pajama pants, but his torso was gorgeously, gloriously naked. She was pretty sure she'd prefer he never put a shirt on again, actually.

“So, so hungry, yes.”

She couldn't turn down her grin as she watched his hands, his lips, and thought about the ecstasy they'd brought her for the past couple of hours.

She'd had no doubt that his rock-hard body promised a level of bliss she'd never before experienced, but honestly? She'd never
ever
felt the—the
things
she'd felt just now. She'd never
said
the things she'd said just now.

She'd never
ever
been dying to go right back upstairs and maybe never come back down.

“Chocolate cream pie?” Daniel pulled a tin out of the fridge. “It's got all of your required ingredients.” He came toward her, and it was all she could do not to wrap her legs around his naked torso. Again.

“And my required ingredients are what?”

He shrugged as he set the pie next to her, then braced his hands on the counter on either side of her.

“Chocolate,” he said, then dipped a finger in the pie and brought it to her lips. “Want some?”

She looked into his eyes, hot and mischievous at the same time, and momentarily lost her ability to speak. Or think. Instead, she took his hand and slid his finger into her mouth, making him groan softly.

Then she reached into the tin with her own finger, scooping chocolate and whipped cream and bringing it to his lips. Before she could get it there, he'd pulled her legs around him and slid his hands inside the robe, capturing her lips with his as he slid his fingers up her inner thighs.

She broke her lips away, practically panting.