A Kilted Christmas Wish (7 page)

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “And you feel so good.”

Before she could thank him, he slid the tip of his shaft to her opening and thrust forward, filling her, consuming her. Darla arched her back, crying out with pleasure.

“So damn good,” her murmured against her ear.

He kissed her, his tongue darting in and out, teasing the same way his body moved in and out of hers. He swayed into her, pressing his pelvis tight to hers, rocking up and then withdrawing, sending delicious spirals of intensity ricocheting through her. By far the best…

Her heart pounded, her breaths were quick, fingers clutched tightly to his back, hips rocking in time with his.
Intense pleasure and pressure built in the center of her, and every rock of his body had her gasping and climbing higher and higher. Delirious with ecstasy, she clung to him knowing that tonight would mean more to her than just getting laid, more to her than the perfect ending to a perfect date. Aaron was changing her life. Changing her perspective on men. She’d never be the same again, and already she craved more of what he could give her.

Aaron groaned, his forehead falling to hers, and every few breaths he kissed her, sucked at her lips, flicked his tongue to dance with hers.
Whispered sexy, encouraging words in her ear. His pace increased, one hand gripped to her hip, and the other bent by her head, holding his weight up. With every ensuing thrust, Darla felt herself spiraling closer and closer to the ultimate in pleasure. And then one more hard drive of his hips and she was there, her body shattering and fragments of herself shooting off into the stratosphere.

She clung to him, moaning, riding out that all-powerful climax, and urging him on to his finish.

“Darla,” he growled, thrusting harder and shuddering above her.

He cradled her close, neither of them moving as they recovered their breath. Darla was content to stay in his arms forever.
To listen to the sound of his breathing, the pound of their hearts.

“That was…amazing,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then her lips.

She smiled, their eyes locking. “Incredible.”

He returned her smile.
“I’ll be right back.” He climbed from the bed, making her instantly cold.

She lifted the covers, snuggling under them, and wondering if now would bring on the awkward moment where he claimed the need to get home and to bed before his alarm woke him
before the crack of dawn.

Darla started to panic, flipped the covers back and was about to riffle through her pajama drawer for her comfy sweats when Aaron popped out of her bathroom.
When he saw what she was doing, he shook his head and stalked forward, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the air.

“No night clothes. We’re sleeping naked.” He dropped her onto the bed and climbed in beside
her, pulling the covers up and hauling her into the crook of his arm. “Want to fall asleep to
Miracle on 34
th
Street
?”

Hot damn, he really was the man of her dreams.

Chapter Seven

A
aron woke with a smile. Something he’d not done for a long time. He felt content, happy, and damn his cock was hard.

He rolled over and pulled Darla int
o his arms, smelling her floral-scented shampoo as he buried his face in her hair. Her body was warm, soft and curled perfectly against his. Her ass tucked neatly against his groin. He skimmed a hand over her hip.

“Mmm… Good morning,” she murmured.

“Morning gorgeous.” He pressed his lips to her neck, desire raging hot through his blood.

He could wake up like this every damn day.

And then his entire body stiffened. One night with her and he was ready to claim a life together. Hell, it would be amazing, a dream, and yet, they’d barely known each other more than a couple weeks. Panic tamed his heated blood and he patted her on the ass and scooted away, rolling to sit up.

“I gotta go,” he said.

“So soon?” The covers crinkled as she rolled over to face him.

He grabbed his watch from the nightstand where he’d tossed it. Just past six in the morning. “Meeting,” he lied.
“I’m late.” He didn’t have a meeting until eleven, but he was starting to sweat and he had to get away from her.

He stood and sifted through their discarded clothes, pulling his on with machine precision. At every turn, he avoided looking at her. One glance and he was almost certain he’d change his mind, strip naked and climb back in bed.

Darla was everything he could want in a woman. Fun, intelligent, adventurous and also down to earth enough that a night of watching movies in bed with her was amazing. She enjoyed doing all the cliché things he did. She would be the perfect balance for him.

And yet, he wasn’t ready.
Couldn’t handle falling for someone. And he had most definitely already fallen for her. Hard.

“I’ll call you later,” he said, slipping on his shoes.
“We can get some dinner. Maybe take-out Chinese or something.”

“Let me walk you out.” She sat up
, the blanket falling around her waist, her perky, creamy breasts welcoming in the morning.

Damn. Aaron shifted his gaze, took several quick steps forward and brushed a kiss on her lips.
He closed his eyes, regretting that he was walking away from her when what he should be doing is walking down the street to get her a cup of coffee and a delicious bagel slathered in cream cheese. He didn’t even know what kind of cream cheese she liked, or how she took her coffee.

A sign that he should leave.
Or that he should stay.

Fuck. He didn’t believe in signs.

Aaron straightened. Smiled down at her messy hair and sleep-filled face. She was a gorgeous mess.

“Stay in bed, babe.” Wha
t the—? Had he just gone with an endearment?
Time to go, buddy.
“I’ll call you later,” he repeated.

“All right.”
She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “I had fun last night.”

“Me, too.”
Too much fun.

He kissed her again, softly, keeping it as non-sensual as he could and then he backed away. Ran away in slow motion was more like it. He found his jacket where he’d discarded it the night before and pulled it on. When he opened the front door, his hand still on the handle, he hesitated. Second guessed
himself. This was stupid. If he’d found a good thing, shouldn’t he keep it?

Not what he wanted to think about right now.

He flicked the lock on her handle and slipped out, closing it tightly behind him. He was supposed to come to the US to grieve and get over Megan. To start a new life, filled with work and his father’s business. But he’d gotten lonely, and then he’d met Darla.

Was it possible that he’d fallen for her because he needed someone?

No… He was pretty sure it wasn’t a rebound thing. Damn sure, actually.

Guilt suffocated him. H
e felt more perfect with Darla than he did with his own deceased fiancée. He leaned back against the door and ran his hands through his hair. This wasn’t part of his plan. He pushed away from her door, walking briskly to the stairs and jogging down them. Falling so quickly for someone else was reckless.

He was playing a losing game with both their hearts.

That evening after work, Aaron stared down at his cell as he climbed into the back of his company car. He’d promised to call her, but he’d hit the end button every time he selected her number from his contacts. The entire day he’d beat himself up over it. And he’d still not come to a healthy conclusion.

Distance was what they needed. Maybe a day or two apart he’d come to his senses, or she’d tell him to get lost. The thought of it tore at his heart, but he wasn’t willing to go through the pain of losing someone again.
Wasn’t willing to hurt Darla more than he already had. Clicking into his texts, he sent her a message.
So sorry. Something’s come up with work.
And then he deleted it. Too blasé, she’d be hurt by the lack of emotion in it. He tried again.
Hey beautiful. Something’s come up at work… Miss you! Will call you tomorrow.

Damn. That wasn’t going to work either. Too many promises insinuated and stated blatantly. Fuck, he was
a bastard.

What he finally ended up texting her was a combination of both, and he hit send before he could change his mind.
Hey girl, wish we could do dinner tonight, but something’s come up at work. Sweet dreams.

Five minutes went by and then his phone buzzed. He refused to look at it.
Refused to acknowledge that he’d been waiting with bated breath for her reply. But his eyes pulled away from the window and stared at his message screen.

No worries! Café
was slammed and I’m exhausted. We’ll catch up tomorrow.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the headrest. He couldn’t respond, because the only thing he wanted to write back was that he’d bring her dinner and wine and massage her feet and back until she fell asleep.

Yeah… The best thing to do was just ignore her, even if that made him feel ten times worse. Let her think he was an asshole, then
she
could put
him
out of his misery.

A coward was what he was.

His driver stopped at a red light. He gazed outside, feeling like every damn couple that walked by was completely and utterly in love. They were flaunting it, tormenting him.

But then there was something that wasn’t a tease.
Not at all. “Shit.” He plastered his face to the window, staring into the display glass of an electronic store where at least a dozen flat screens flashed some news channel.

His face.
His fucking face was plastered on every fucking screen.

“Stop,” he ordered his driver
and jumped from the car, running toward the screens, hearing the announcer say, “In entertainment news, Scots-American tycoon, Aaron Sutherland has been appointed CEO of Sutherland Productions—the producer of NYC Nightly News, our station. Sutherland returns amongst an upset in Edinburgh having recently lost his A-lister fiancée, Megan Winters, in a car accident when she was pursued by paparazzi. Our condolences Mr. Sutherland and we wish you all the best here in the States. In other news, Studio…” The news droned out and another picture flashed on screen.

Aaron wanted to fire every damn one of the anchors and crew at NYC
Nightly News. Wanted to rip the cords from every camera, mic and monitor.

So much for keeping his past in his past.
So much for privacy. But what could he expect? He worked in television. News. Nothing was sacred.

Waving goodbye to his driver, he stuffed
his hands in his pockets. He chose to walk the rest of the way home despite the swirling snow and stinging chill.

He prayed Darla hadn’t seen the news clip. He’d not told her about Megan.
Skirted around the reason for coming back to the States. Everyone dealt with loss, and it wasn’t like they were exclusively dating, but that didn’t matter. He knew she’d take it as a betrayal of sorts. He’d led her to believe there could be something more, when in fact he was just one fucked up mess.

***

Darla set down her sandwich, mouth still open from the bite she was about to take. Her stomach flipped, heart clenched. She was suddenly light-headed.

Tycoon?
Fiancée? Actress?

Definitely his name.
Definitely his face. His company. Not at all the man she thought he was.

It was a crushing blow. The man had wined and dined her.
Taken her on the most enchanting dates. Made love to her the way she thought it was in fairy tales. And it was all a show.

She looked down at her
panini. A City Café special for Christmas, green, red and white.

All a dream after all.
Darla was nothing more than a plaything for a tycoon. A way to rebound after losing the woman he was going to marry. There was no comparison between herself and Megan Winters. The woman was a freaking starlet. A red-carpet walking movie star. She remembered hearing about how Winters had been in a horrendous car accident in Europe months ago. And that was Aaron’s fiancée.

Ouch.

Darla swallowed that cold bit of truth, her throat tight.

She
felt her heart crushing and tears filled her eyes. That was why he wasn’t calling her back. All a dream after all.

Chapter Eight

A
week and a half passed without Darla hearing a peep from Aaron. Actually nine days and—she stopped her trek to the café and glanced at her watch—two hours and thirty-six minutes.

A man dressed as Santa stood at the corner by her deli, ringing a bell and accepting donations for charity in his red tin bucket. People crowded the streets with bags stuffed full of gifts.
Christmas was right around the corner and it appeared that the wish she’d wished was, in fact, not going to come true. No Highlander for her to love.

Friday before Christmas.
The café was going to be crazy with a capital C today. And she was running late. Jorge had opened for her at seven, and here she was strolling in as though she didn’t have a care in the world at nearly nine in the morning. Thank God for Jorge and Amanda.

She gripped the bronzed handle and pushed the door in, the famil
iar ding of her door’s bell ringing.

Customers streamed from the line to tables and out the door. That was normal. Amanda behind the counter was normal. Jorge setting plates of breakfast
paninis and bags of takeout on the counter was normal.

The counter lined and every table set with at least a dozen red and white roses was not normal.
Festive, but not standard. Darla would never have spent the money on something so frivolous for the café. She preferred a single wild flower of sorts on each table.

This was… cliché.

Damn.

“A dozen roses for every
day I’ve thought about you. Which is every day since the moment we first met. ”

“What?” She slowly turned around to see Aaron standing behind her, wearing his black wool jacket, a dark
gray cashmere scarf. His face was a little red from the cold, and a few flakes of snow melted in his dark hair.

A grin curled his lips. A little shy, but just as sexy as she remembered.
She hated the way her heart melted immediately. After the pain of the last week, she wanted to hate him.

“Cliché, I know,” he
said, stepping closer to her and taking hold of her stiff hand. She wanted to pull away, to shove him through the door, but she was powerless to the warmth of his hand thawing hers. “But after the way we started, it was the only way to go. Well, it was either the flowers or a singing courier.”

Darla wasn’t sure she was
ready to forgive Aaron. Flowers or not.

He’d ignored her, brushed her off, and that was after she’d found out that he’d basically been screwing with her to get over the death of his almost-wife.
If Darla was going to go down the relationship path again—which at this point she was considering joining a convent—she wanted it to mean something.

Sure, Aaron was fun, and hell yes he was good in bed, but Darla wasn’t the rebound type of girl. She pulled her hand away. His touch was tugging at her heartstrings, manipulating her into forgiving him.

“I have to work,” she said, turning away. But when she faced her café, she noticed that the entire place was staring at her. Watching them like they were some fascinating spectacle. She gritted her teeth, whirled and grabbed Aaron by the hand. “Outside.”

Once they were on the street and almost clear of all the staring eyes, she crossed her arms over chest and stared up at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Darla, I’m sorry,” he started, true regret shining in his eyes. “I…I didn’t want to hurt you. Believe me, that was the last thing on my mind when I met you.”

Darla didn’t want to admit that he’d hurt her. “I’m not a toy to be played with and discarded. Flowers won’t make me jump back into bed with you.
Even if you did get twenty-two dozen.”

“Twenty-three,” he corrected with a charming smile that almost had her smiling back.

“Whatever. It doesn’t really matter. I’m not going to be your rebound.” Her frown fell. “But, beyond that, I am really sorry about your fiancée.” She just couldn’t help it. No matter how mad she wanted to be at him, the fact that he’d been in pain made her want to hold him close, ease his hurt.

“You saw.” His face fell, lips pressed together in a flat line.

“Yeah. And then you stopped calling. Didn’t return my texts. I can take a hint. Trust me, I won’t come chasing after you.” She turned to go.

Aaron grabbed her arm gently, stopping her. He
reached for her hands, but she tugged them away. With a disappointed frown, he shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes pleading. “Please, Darla. I’m sorry. I want you to know that, truly. I didn’t ask you out,” he leaned forward, “make love to you, because I wanted a rebound.”

“And you didn’t call me or text me for the last week, because…?” She held out her hands in question.

He shook his head. “Because I’m a coward.”

“A coward?”
She shoved her hands into her pockets, too.

“I
was afraid.”

“Of what?
Of me finding out that you had a fiancée? That she was worlds above me? Or that you were just playing around with me—the normal girl? You could have just been honest with me.”

He shook his head. “No, I wanted to tell you
about Megan. Planned to… But the thing was, I was afraid of—” He swiped a hand through his hair. “I was afraid of how much I…care about you, Darla. That you’d think I was just messing around when in fact—” He huffed a breath. “It’s not that at all.”

Her heart skipped a beat. God, she wanted so badly to believe him. T
o leap into his arms and let him carry her off into the sunset. But she had to be logical, reasonable, didn’t she? The man had been playing her, and even if he was genuine, what’s to say that his grief hadn’t clouded his judgment? Megan Winters had been on an entirely different level than Darla. Not just worlds apart, planets.

She shook her head. “I can’t.” And she couldn’t. She’d been burned so many times now that even if there was a tiny spark of truth to his sentiment, she still couldn’t bring herself to say yes.
The way his face fell, his eyes showing immeasurable pain had words going back on everything she’d just said riding the tip of her tongue.

Was opening her heart to
the man she’d tried to forget worth the pain of losing him again? She wasn’t sure. Couldn’t answer that right now. What happened if he decided in another week that he wanted space and he simply stopped calling? What if he decided he didn’t want an ordinary girl? It was everything she’d promised herself she’d never go through again.

“I…I have to go to work,” she said, her own words sounding hollow to her ears. “I’m sorry.”

And just like that she backed away from him, went into the café and told every customer they could take a dozen roses with them. The ache in her heart was enough to remind her of what she was losing. She didn’t need to see his romantic flowers.

***

Aaron stared at the closed door of City Café. Watched as Darla retreated behind the counter. He was oblivious to the people walking around him on the sidewalk, bumping against him. Oblivious to the group of carolers singing
Silent Night
.

She’d walked away.

She’d said no.

The cracking of his wounded heart took his breath away. He’d not realized how much she’d healed him, showed him that there was a future that could be filled with happiness until he’d not seen her,
talked to her for over a week. He’d not known how much he loved her until he tried to let her go. When he just couldn’t take it any longer, he’d decided to go after her.

And she’d said no.

He couldn’t make his feet move. Couldn’t stop staring into Darla’s restaurant. But he had to. Even if bearing the brunt of her refusal hurt worse than he could have imagined. Hurt worse than feeling guilty for betraying her trust.

He’d loved Megan.
Planned on spending his life with her. But she’d died. And he’d had to learn that she wasn’t coming back and he needed to move on. When Darla had entered his life, there’d been a light. A hope. She wasn’t an ordinary woman to him. Darla Strider was freaking amazing. Extraordinary and perfect.

But she’d said no.

Aaron closed his eyes a moment and turned on his heel. He swallowed hard, his throat constricted.

He wasn’t going to let her go that easily. Not when he
’d realized that he loved her desperately and wanted to spend every day, for the rest of his life, loving her.