My Hot Holiday (4 page)

"Look, I love you both.  But, you need to get it together.  I can't be the one saving you from your own demise."

I manage to recompose myself by the time Mom and Dad begin to apologize to each other so I can make my quick exit.

"We are sorry, dear.  We're sorry if we ruined your Christmas Eve," Mom says with the face of a guilt-ridden child.

"It's okay...it's okay," I say calmly.

"But, I think this marks my exit.  I must go and see my...see my...um...see my boyfriend!"

As they both look at me in surprise, I toss my hair back, reach down for my bags in my old bedroom, and take off, full of a sudden exhilaration.

"Merry Christmas...see you in the morning..." I yell out over my shoulder as I head for the door.

"I will be back with his present in the morning," I toss out as a final parting.

"We love you, honey," Mom chirps out behind me as I head for the door.

“Be safe!”

I wave a hand without turning and give the front door a gentle, yet commanding tug and shimmy my bag-toting body through the door jamb.  Whew!  I lean back against the door in relief.  That’s one fire out.  Now should I try to start another?

Chapter 3: Game Time
 

I sit in the car enjoying my thoughts and the silence looming outside of my parents’ house.  Jake Sterns pops into my thoughts before I can stop him...his lips -- his smell -- God, his chiseled chest.  I become woozy with lust.  I drop my head into the steering wheel and allow myself to close my eyes for just a minute.  My head is filled with memories of his swirling tongue and the hardness of his arousal.  Maybe it's the 23 months of celibacy causing my loss of control...12 lonely months divorced and the other 11 -- thanks to Scott's "hectic schedule."  I do the math in my head, have I REALLY been dried up for 23 months?!

Either way, I need to get out of here.  I turn the ignition, crank the heater, and hit reverse.

Visions of his chocolate-colored eyes are pulsating through my head, like a CD stuck on a skip.  As I drive to the cabin, I feel no clearer in the head.  I round the last curve just a mile from Mom and Dad's house, and I see the cabin.  It's perfect.  Utter beauty!  It's a love shack, if I've ever seen one.

I speed up the long gravel driveway, throw the car into park, grab my bag and push back the icy white gate.  I see the neighbor's flood light come on, probably wondering if I'm a Christmas burglar.  Quickly I fumble up the ankle-deep, snow-covered walkway, trying to look as though I come here all the time.  As I turn the key and push open the door, I'm floored.  The family room reminds me of a ski resort.  With floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides of the room, daylight will most definitely be eye candy with views of the snow covered lake behind the house.  A soaring fireplace made of natural stone dominates the rest of the house.  I picture Jake starting the fire and getting REALLY cozy on the leather sofas.  I quickly savor just how special, almost mystical, it feels to be spending Christmas in a cabin, even if I am alone.  Questions dance in my mind like bubbles in a pot of boiling water.

A jolt of energy shoots through me, as I bounce myself onto the bed and stare at the seven digits he wrote in blue ink just hours before.

It's game time.  Now or never!  I can come up with a million reasons not to call Jake, but life is too short, I tell myself.  And then there's the fact that I've become a hypocrite.  Ugh.  No one wants to admit that!

Suddenly, my memory bank of quotes surfaces and I realize, as a former relationship columnist, I should start taking my own advice.

"Your past does not equal your future.” That one’s from Tony Robbins, my personal favorite.

"Life is too important to be taken seriously.” Oscar Wilde was so wise.

“Just do it!”  Wait, isn't that Nike's slogan?

Dial the number Jillian...

I glare at the phone with panic lumping in my throat.  I can do this.  My head is filled with a searing vision of our hot sex and my repeated proclamations of satisfaction.  I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’ve just never liked the "O" word.  So, that's my phrase, and I’m sticking to it!

Lord, I need another drink.  It’s liquid courage, to be more specific.  I leave the precious numbers on the bed and drift off toward a bar stocked with every hard liquor I can imagine.  I'm more of a wine drinker; so the mountain of scotch, tequila, whiskey, and vodka is looking a tad bit intimidating.

I reach for Cabernet, but realize that would be like putting a double-A battery in a Honda.  I need something MUCH stronger.  So, I push the bottle back into the amber colored liquid fill the shot glass.  I take a gulp of the toxic tonic, putting off the decision for just a few more minutes.

As I round the corner back to the bedroom, however, fear overpowers my excitement.  I sit heavily down on the king-size mattress.  I know I shouldn't be acting like a drunken high school girl, but I just can't seem to help myself.  I have to admit I am feeling low in self-confidence.

Why didn't I get that makeover I had my heart set on last year?

Here I sit with a bad manicure, a God-awful pedicure, and I don't even want to consider my undergarments.  So, I take another gulp and ask Mr. Jack Daniels to help me press pause on the embarrassment building in my mind and play for the sensation of Mr. CEO's wet lips on my neck.

OK -- I'll make a list...  The Dos and Don'ts of calling Jake Stearns.

Do -- I get to see him again and spend Christmas Eve with him.  That gets two thumbs up!

Don't --Fall in love with a man with whom I’ll never have a chance -- and find myself a homeless wino from depression.  The rush of fantasy of just one night ends up being so good it leaves me incapable of living a full life without him.

Okay, that may be a bit dramatic...

I squeeze my eyes shut, and take a quick breath.  I punch the numbers -- and with each ring, my compulsion grows to throw the phone out the window.

Then, it happens.  He answers!  I panic - choke.  I begin to set the phone down and run from it like it's an angry dog.  Then I hear, "Jillian…is this is you?"

I rapidly pick up the phone and slam it against my cheek.

"Hello..." I say softly.

"You are dialing me with your ass, aren't you?"

Oh boy. I'm never going to live this down.

"No, no...definitely not," I stammer.

"So, have you completed your history lesson with your grandmother yet?" He is so matter-of-fact.

I pause for a second and remember my ridiculous sarcasm.

"No, unfortunately, she skipped me this year," I say.  "How about you?  What are you doing tonight?" I ask cautiously.

"Me?  Oh, I have just been making the rounds about town.  I delivered a few presents, but I can't stop thinking about you," he says with the charm I had only fantasized about.

"You...umm...can't?"

Seriously, I need to work on my comebacks.  This is getting downright pathetic.

"I mean, you’ve been thinking about me?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yes, Jillian.  I have been thinking about you...a lot.  I need to see you again." His command is so strong I can feel it through the phone.  "Isn't that why you called me?"

"Yes...Yes.  Yes, I'd like that, too," I admit.

"Well, what are you doing right now?" He asks.

"Up until right now, drinking Jack Daniels -- which I never do -- and trying get the courage to call you..."

"I'm glad to see ol' J.D. could deliver,” he says with a chuckle.

"Yeah...I guess it worked, huh?"

"Why don't you keep drinking until I get there?" He says this without an invitation.

"Get here?  You are coming over?"  I ask.

"Yes, where are you?"

"I'm in a love shack."

Dear God, please let me take that back.  Jack Daniels has officially confiscated my brain!

"You are in a WHAT?"

"Ummm...I mean…I'm in a cabin.  A girlfriend from high school is letting me stay here for the holiday."

“OK...Where are you?  I need to see you.  Tonight."

Chapter 4: Letting Go
 

Three knocks on the solid oak door echo out into the bedroom where I'm sitting, anxiously waiting for Jake Sterns to arrive.  Thank goodness I had a chance to change into something more casual.  But, as I glance down at my Juicy Couture cashmere pants and matching zip hoodie, I'm feeling like exactly what I am; a divorced soccer mom.  I swallow hard in my throat.

I jog quietly across the hardwood floors and stop in my tracks before opening the door.

With a deep breath, I firmly grab the door handle and open the door to the man who I couldn't get out of my thoughts.  My eyes hit his and I recognize the familiar burn of his gaze.

"Hello, beautiful."  The deep voice makes my heart jump.

His smile is quick and disarming.  His eyes slowly crawl down my body and then back up to my eyes.  I feel like I'm watching a predator size up his prey.

"I still can't believe you came here," I said quietly.

Even my ex would never have done anything like this, not even way back in the beginning.

"I'm glad you are here," I admit.

Glad?  I'm three sheets to the wind and I still can't slow the palpitations leaping from my chest.

It's not that he didn't scream sexy CEO before, but he is way out of my league.  He looks every bit of what he is; successful, rich and ready for a good fucking.

Oh my God!  See!  That Jack Daniels is even causing me to mind swear.  That's where I don't actually say the word out loud, but I sure as hell think about it.

I stand there staring at him, unable to focus on the proper protocol.  As Mom would say, he looks holiday handsome.  He is wearing dark navy slacks, a white button-down shirt and a red tie that I really want to peel away.

“Do you mind if I come in?  I feel like I might run into you,"  he asks me with a bit of a slur to his words.

“Sure…yeah…come in and sit down."  I close the door as I stretch my arm out toward the couch.

“Ohhhh,” he says leaning over as if he’s about to collapse across the leather cushions.

“You alright?” I ask, wincing inwardly.

“Yep, I’m good.  Merry Christmas…” he says with a chuckle, trying to stabilize himself.

“Although it may not appear this way, I am, in fact, a semi-respectable businessman.  But on a rare occasion...or maybe not so rare these days...I like to have a few drinks and find a way to pretend that I don’t have the pressure that seems to like to smother my every breath.”

“Oh,” I said and then grimaced, “Well, that doesn’t sound good…now does it?”

“Enough about me…let’s talk about you.  So, how’s your Christmas Eve going so far, until I showed up drunk and ruined your holiday?”

“Well, it’s not going as I might have expected.”  My fingers wiggle and rub around my eyes as I find myself consumed with nerves and fatigue.  “I’m heading back home tomorrow morning after my family’s Christmas breakfast.  You might say I’m just not myself these days.”

“Ohhh...” He looks down, then scrunches his eyebrows and asks, “When did you get into town?”

“Ummm, about four hours ago?” I say with sarcasm as I cross my arms across my chest.

“Oyster Cove isn’t your kind of town, eh?”

“No, no, it’s not that.  It’s just that I’m not quite myself right now.  I went by myself to my family’s big holiday gathering, and it was a stupid decision.  I should have just stayed home and worked through Christmas.  I should have known better.  By the way, would you like something different to drink?  Maybe coffee or water?”

He leans across the table and stares at the fully stocked bar behind me.  He then glances back at me with a look of a child preparing to disobey.

“I think I see a fantastic looking bottle of Le Reviseur Cognac over there.  Would you like a glass?”

“Sure,” I say after a slight pause.  It’s probably not the smartest answer considering the fact that I’ve already had more than enough to drink and I've never had a drop of Cognac in my life.

“Good,” he says with a smirk.

I reach up and grab and the bottle, hoping he won’t notice the vibration in my movements.

“So, tell me your story.  You said you came here alone.  I take it from our little adventure at the bookstore that you aren't married.”

“Why, do I look not married?” I inquire.

“No, no!  I just wanted to be sure. I didn’t really have time to ask.  My thoughts kind of ran away from me earlier.”

“Ahhh...” I couldn’t help but laugh at his twist of words.  “That’s true.  Very true.”

I muster all the courage I have and look him straight in the eye as I hand him his snifter of Cognac.

“To answer your question...no, I’m not married.”

“So why is it you say that you aren’t quite yourself these days?”

“Well, I got divorced last year.  I have two great kids and this is my first Christmas without them...actually.  It’s my first Christmas without anyone.”

“Ahhh…well, I can imagine that is difficult.”

“Yeah, I guess what I was thinking is that I didn’t want to be alone over the holidays.  So I came up to my parents’ house.  And then after their holiday dinner turned into something that will send me back to two session a week therapy, I came here thinking if I was somewhere else I wouldn’t realize that I was alone.  Then I got here and never felt more alone in my life.  Shocker, right?  Bet you are glad you answered my phone call.”

“I am, in fact. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

He looks at me the same way he did at the bookstore and I feel my stomach flipping again.

He leans in and kisses my lips and that sweet spot just below my earlobe.  I lose my balance.

I pull myself from his lips and take a deep breath to confess my thoughts.

“Given that I’ve hit a rough patch in my personal life as of late, and I find myself in an old friend’s cabin, and I’m in a town that is full of haunting memories...and considering you showed up and you are like insanely good looking...and really, really drunk and probably won’t remember me anyway...I’m thinking we should just have sex.”