I'm Your Santa (25 page)

“Try.”

“How?”

“You'll figure out a way. I did.”

Sebastian gave a slow grin, glad to have his mind off his own problems for minute. “Care to enlarge on that detail?”

Uncle Cordell returned the grin. “I went and married Rebecca and your mom went and married Terrance. Figured we had the judge and the family all together so why the hell not, we sure aren't getting any younger. And it's Christmas. There's always a bit of magic at Christmas, guessing it was working overtime for us.”

“And it's one way to keep the ladies from the Four Arachnid concert.” He hugged his uncle. “Congratulations. I know you'll be happy. Rebecca will see to that and she'll keep you on your toes.”

“I'd offer to wait around with you but this is up to you and LuLu to straighten out.”

He watched Uncle Cordell fade into the swirling snow, the quiet of night settling in around him.

“I thought he'd never leave,” came LuLu's voice behind him. “Though the thought of the fearsome foursome married is very cool. We did accomplish something.”

“Where have you been? You're five hours late.”

“Yeah, I know. And I could tell you that I couldn't find a lawyer but that would be a lie, and if you lie to a soldier ready to get shipped overseas you probably go straight to hell.”

“I'm not following.”

She pulled in a deep breath and took papers from inside her Joseph's coat. “Divorce papers just waiting for your signature.”

She handed him a pen and he shook his head and took a step back. “I'm not signing, LuLu. Forget it. I love you, I really do and it's not because of the baby, I knew I loved you when we made love here and it
was
making love and not just sex. It's never just been sex between us and we both know it, no matter how much we say otherwise. I didn't have the guts to tell you that I love you because I knew it would complicate the hell out of our lives even more. Then Jerome touched your hand and I wanted to break every bone in his body for that and threatening you. That's when I knew I couldn't leave without making you mine, and if you signed those papers they're only getting the one signature.”

“I did sign them.”

“Too bad.”

“I signed Mickey Mouse.”

He paused then laughed.

“Hey, that's all my fingers would do because I love you, too.”

His heart slammed against his chest. “But it took you so long to get here.”

“Yeah, that's the other thing, the big thing.” She pulled in another deep breath. “How am I going to live without you for a year?” She took his hand and hers was shaking. “How am I going to live with the possibility that you may not ever come ba—”

He put his fingers to her lips then kissed her softly. “We're not going there. We're going here.” He swept her into his arms and this time kissed her like a husband kisses his new wife. “God, I love you and you love me and that's what we're going to focus on for the next twelve months.”

He kissed her again. “In one year I'll meet you right back here in this very place with our new baby in your arms.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I'll be home for Christmas, LuLu. I promise with all my heart.”

LuLu held baby Sebastian close as she peered through the swirling snow. Cedar and holly garland decorated the dark gazebo lit only in moonlight. The square was quiet and lonely. “Okay, Handsome,” she said into the darkness. “Where the heck are you because I know you're here.”
You've got to be here
, she added to herself.

Nothing except the little coos from inside a swaddle of blue blankets, and then a warm breath on the back of her neck melting the fear she's lived with for a year. She grinned into the darkness then turned. “Welcome home, Handsome.”

Also available from Brava this month,

HOT NIGHT by Shannon McKenna….

THE PREDATOR

Gold. The most precious of metals. And someone would kill to get at the dazzling exhibit of priceless Spanish treasure Abby Maitland just landed for the museum. Too bad Zan Duncan had to show up to protect her, but someone's waiting—and watching. She's in the crosshairs and she doesn't have a clue.

THE PREY

Abby is mesmerized by Zan's untamed strength and his very sexual vibe. From the long dark hair, the thick, hard muscles, and the black leather jacket right on down to the honed fighting skills and the tattoos, Zan is everything a bad boy oughta be…and everything Abby has sworn to avoid. Yet he's a master of subtle seduction, pushing her buttons with tantalizing promises of night after hot night of secret, endless pleassure. Promises that he keeps, to the letter…

But danger stalks them both, for a lethal game of deception, greed, and murder is underway—a game more sinister than Abby and Zan ever imagined. And when no one can be trusted and no place is safe, passion may be the only thing that can save them…

Abby was floating. The sensual heft of Zan's jacket felt wonderful over her shoulders, even though it hung halfway down to her thighs.

They'd reached the end of the boardwalk, where the lights began to fade. Beyond the boardwalk, the warehouse district began. They'd walked the whole boardwalk, talking and laughing, and at some point, their hands had swung together and sort of just…stuck. Warmth seeking warmth. Her hand tingled joyfully in his grip.

The worst had happened. Aside from his sex appeal, she simply liked him. She liked the way he laughed, his turn of phrase, his ironic sense of humor. He was smart, honest, earthy, funny. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust herself this time.

Their strolling slowed to a stop at the end of the boardwalk.

“Should we, ah, walk back to your van?” she ventured.

“This is where I live,” he told her.

She looked around. “Here? But this isn't a residential district.”

“Not yet,” he said. “It will be soon. See that building over there? It used to be a factory of some kind, in the twenties, I think. The top floor, with the big arched windows, that's my place.”

There was just enough light to make out the silent question in his eyes. She exhaled slowly. “Are you going to invite me up, or what?”

“You know damn well that you're invited,” he said. “More than invited. I'll get down on my knees and beg, if you want me to.”

The full moon appeared in a window of scudding clouds, then disappeared again. “It wouldn't be smart,” she said. “I don't know you.”

“I'll teach you,” he offered. “Crash course in Zan Duncan. What do you want to know? Hobbies, pet peeves, favorite leisure activities?”

She would put it to the test of her preliminary checklist, and make her decision based on that. “Don't tell me,” she said. “Let me guess. You're a martial arts expert, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Aikido is my favorite discipline. I like kung fu, too.”

She nodded, stomach clenching. There it was, the first black mark on the no-nos checklist. Though it was hardly fair to disqualify him for that, since he'd saved her butt with those skills the night before.

So that one didn't count. On to the next no-no. “Do you have a motorcycle?”

He looked puzzled. “Several of them. Why? Want to go for a ride?”

Abby's heart sank. “No. One last question. Do you own guns?”

Zan's face stiffened. “Wait. Are these trick questions?”

“You do, don't you?” she persisted.

“My late father was a cop.” His voice had gone hard. “I have his service Beretta. And I have a hunting rifle. Why? Are you going to talk yourself out of being with me because of superficial shit like that?”

Abby's laugh felt brittle. “Superficial. That's Abby Maitland.”

“No, it is not,” he said. “That's not Abby Maitland at all.”

“You don't know the first thing about me, Zan.”

“Yes, I do.” His dimple quivered. “I know first things, second things, third things. You've got piss-poor taste in boyfriends, to start.”

Abby was stung. “Those guys were not my boyfriends! I didn't even know them! I've just had a run of bad luck lately!”

“Your luck is about to change, Abby.” His voice was low and velvety. “I know a lot about you. I know how to get into your apartment. How to turn your cat into a noodle. The magnets on your fridge, the view from your window. Your perfume. I could find you blindfolded in a room full of strangers.” His fingers penetrated the veil of her hair, his forefinger stroking the back of her neck with controlled gentleness. “And I learn fast. Give me ten minutes, and I'd know lots more.”

“Oh,” she breathed. His hand slid through her hair, settled on her shoulder. The delicious heat burned her, right through his jacket.

“I know you've got at least two of those expensive dresses that drive guys nuts. And I bet you've got more than two. You've got a whole closet full of hot little outfits like that. Right?” He cupped her jaw, turning her head until she was looking into his fathomless eyes.

Her heart hammered. “I've got a…a pretty nice wardrobe, yes.”

“I'd like to see them.” His voice was sensual. “Someday maybe you can model them all for me. In the privacy of your bedroom.”

“Zan—”

“I love it when you say my name,” he said. “I love your voice. Your accent. Based on your taste in dresses, I'm willing to bet that you like fancy, expensive lingerie, too. Am I right? Tell me I'm right.”

“Time out,” she said, breathless. “Let's not go there.”

“Oh, but we've already arrived.” His breath was warm against her throat. “Locksmiths are detail maniacs. Look at the palm of your hand, for instance. Here, let me see.” He lifted her hand into the light from the nearest of the streetlamps. “Behold your destiny.”

It was silly and irrational, but it made her self-conscious to have him look at the lines on her hand. As if he actually could look right into her mind. Past, future, fears, mistakes, desires, all laid out for anyone smart and sensitive enough to decode it. “Zan. Give me my hand back.”

“Not yet. Oh…wow. Check this out,” he whispered.

“What?” she demanded.

He shook his head with mock gravity and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “It's too soon to say what I see. I don't want to scare you off.”

“Oh, please,” she said unsteadily. “You are so full of it.”

“And you're so scared. Why? I'm a righteous dude. Good as gold.” He stroked her wrist. “Ever try cracking a safe without drilling it? It's a string of numbers that never ends. Hour after hour, detail after detail. That's concentration.” He pressed his lips against her knuckles.

“What does concentration have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with everything. That's what I want to do to you, Abby. Concentrate, intensely, minutely. Hour after hour, detail after detail. Until I crack all the codes, find all the keys to all your secret places. Until I'm so deep inside you…” his lips kissed their way up her wrist, “…that we're a single being.”

She leaned against him and let him cradle her in his strong arms. His warm lips coaxed her into opening to the gentle, sensual exploration of his tongue. “Come up with me,” he whispered. “Please.”