One Christmas Knight (6 page)

Emma woke up Christmas morning in a room she didn’t immediately know, with a feeling she’d never experienced before and man she wanted to keep for the rest of her life.

But she was a big girl. Santa wasn’t real and while the notion was bliss, miracles rarely happened. Still, for now, as Damon Knight gently woke her, she would happily accept every gift he had to bestow.

Just how many ways where there to kiss?

Everywhere he touched, with his hands or his tongue or his teeth, was flooded with a rush of heated longing. It was as if she were a well being filled to the brim, drenched to near bursting. Every move he made was purely, utterly, only about her.

But the more he woke and stroked her, the more Emma remembered of the day before.

“Damon?”

He didn’t stop kissing and nibbling her neck…her shoulder. “Hmm?”

“I feel guilty.”

She felt his smile spread against her skin. “Guilt is not the emotion I’m after.”

“Your family will hate me, taking you away from them like this.”

“Didn’t we talk about this?”

“You’ve probably got a dozen messages.”

He’d turned off his phone not long after she’d arrived the previous night. They’d spent all the hours until dawn getting to know one another in every way possible. He’d brought her so high so many times, Emma had finally fallen asleep satisfied in a sense she hadn’t known existed.

But they couldn’t spend
all
day making love?

Could they?

The tip of his tongue slid up her throat. When his body moved on top of her and his mouth lowered over hers, Emma melted into the sheets. Then his hand grazed up her side, his thumb brushed her breast and her leg automatically wrapped around his.

Maybe Santa was real.

Sometime later, the room was spinning again. When Damon nuzzled into her shoulder, out of breath, murmuring her name, Emma slid her palms down the steamy stretch of his back.

“Do you think you’ll let me out of this bed today?” he joked, before kissing her again, a deep delicious caress that needed an encore. But not yet.

“You should check your phone,” she said.
And I should check mine.

He pressed the tip of his nose to hers. “Don’t worry about my family. They know I couldn’t make it because of a special someone. They’ll be ecstatic.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Being with you here, now, being with you like this…” There was another huge question that needed an answer. “Damon, why are you still single?”

“Silly.” His lips grazed hers. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Between them, they were scant on festive food. But Emma had a bottle of red stashed away and the Christmas tree needed company. So Damon grabbed a couple of steaks from the freezer and they drove back to Emma’s place. She phoned Olivia and let her know she wouldn’t be over, and why, today.

When Emma walked inside her home, she was hammered with mixed emotions. She was grateful to have Damon here, but at every turn she imaged Shelley’s face, or heard her coo. She needed to be positive. No matter what happened, she would make sure she was always in her niece’s life, and one day…

Well, maybe she might be lucky enough to have a family of her own. Not that she would make any assumptions. She and Damon were spending Christmas together, but he was still leaving the Point come February. There were a lot of miles, and other possibilities, between here and L.A.

At lunchtime, they cracked open the wine. Damon lit a fire and they spread a quilt on the floor. Leaning back against the sofa, Emma made a toast.

“Here’s to Christmas.”

“To Christmas.” They clinked glasses and sipped before snuggling closer while gazing into the flames.

“Have you wondered how differently this would have played out,” she said, “if Kyrstal had shown up when she was supposed to?”

“Yesterday. On Christmas Eve.” He leaned in, grazed his cheek against hers. “It was meant to be.”

“Meant to be.”

She looked into the fire again.

“I’d be lying,” she said, “if I didn’t admit that I can’t help thinking about Shelley. But I’m going to be positive.”

“Good for you.”

“No more angst. From now on, Emma Bagwell will handle whatever comes with a steady calm and grace.”

“Let’s test that, shall we?”

He put down his glass, was about to bundle her close, when a knock sounded on the door. Emma gulped down a breath, scrambled to her feet. Her heart was jumping like a rabbit on steroids.

“Do you think it’s them?” She hurried for the door then came back to help pull him up. “Hurry, Damon.
Quick
.”

“What happened to steady calm and grace?”

She tugged his arm again.

When she flung open the door a moment later, however, she was so disappointed. But she couldn’t let her guests see. They all looked ready to let go and party.

“I believe you’re in need of food and beverage,” Olivia said, looking svelte in her Christmas pants suit garb as she lifted the basket of goodies she carried.

Max stepped forward to shake Damon’s hand. “Merry Christmas, buddy. Glad you could hang around.”

Another car pulled up. Melanie Beachmere and her lawyer fiancé Logan Taylor, who had started a practice at the Point, got out. A
third
vehicle parked at the kerb. It seemed as if Melanie’s younger sister Phoebe and Max’s teenage son Jace would be joining them, too.  Emma was taking it all in―the noise, cheer and infusion of energy―when yet
another
guest arrived. Wandering up, Judd wore a fluffy white beard and tired looking Santa’s cap.

When he got to the porch, Judd dabbed a kiss on Emma’s cheek and jerked a thumb at his costume. “Do it for the kids.” He looked around. “That baby here?”

It took an effort to keep her smile tacked up as Emma shook her head. Then, in the spirit of the holiday, she added, “But Christmas isn’t over yet.”

They all moved inside. The women were sorting out food, the younger generation was checking out the tree, and the men were discussing sports when another knock sounded.

Damon looked to Emma and she shrugged. She didn’t want to get her hopes up again. “Guess it’s open house,” she said.

When she opened the door, her skin tingled hot and cold. Her ears started to sing. She put a hand over her mouth to stop a yelp from escaping.

Her visitor’s smile was apologetic―thin and somehow weary, too.

“Shelley said she wanted to see her aunt Emma Christmas Day,” Krystal said.

Beaming, Emma smacked a kiss on her sister’s cheek and lowered her head to press her lips on Shelley’s soft brow. Tears dropped down her cheeks. She was so happy. So blessed.

She took a deep breath, gathered herself, looked around. “Where’s Rick?”

Krystal’s closed her eyes and shook her head as if she was withering inside.

“Em, I made a massive mistake.
Again.
I told Rick this morning. I couldn’t go through with it.” She blew out a shuddering breath. “He isn’t Shelley’s father.”

Emma gripped the jamb to hold herself up. Her legs suddenly felt as limp as cooked noodles. “If Rick isn’t her father, who is?”

“The night Shelley was conceived, I drank way too much at a party. I can’t remember past midnight. I woke up alone, but...well, obviously I didn’t start out that way. When I realized I was pregnant, I tried to find out more.” She gnawed her lower lip, grunted. “I have no idea.”

Emma’s face went hot. Her cheeks and neck were burning. So much was wrong about that story. Drinking too much, unprotected sex. A man who not only took advantage of an intoxicated woman but couldn’t even hang around after the deed was done.

And the result was this beautiful baby girl.

“Where does Rick fit in?” she asked.

“I met him eighteen months ago. He was so much fun to be around. I fell for him…like I do. I don’t know what I was thinking, using Shelley like that to try to get back with him.” Krystal gazed down at the baby who was blinking open but sleepy eyes…looking up at her mom with nothing but trust. “This morning it was like I woke up from a dream. I told Rick the truth. He actually asked us to stay. He said he loved me. I told him I was sorry then I bundled Shelley into the car and drove straight here.”

Emma was speechless. Rick was out of the picture and Krystal was taking responsibility. She wiped away another tear.

“You know you’re both welcome to stay here.”

“Thanks, but Shelley and I should get our own place. Close by.”

“
Very
close by.” Emma stepped back. “Come through. People I know would love to see you both.”

But Krystal hesitated.

“Em…there’s something else.”

Oh no.
“Something bad?

“I want to say I’m sorry.”

Emma waved it off. “I loved looking after Shelley.”

“I mean I’m sorry for what happened three years ago. So many times I wanted to at least try to explain, but there’s no excuse for hurting you like that. No man is worth losing a sister over. Destroying a friendship.”

Emma let the apology sink in. No one had ever wounded her the way Krystal had. She’d never be able to get past the ‘why’s, including why both sisters had been attracted to a man who was so ill tempered. So much like their father. But now…

None of that mattered.

“So,” Krystal went on, “sisters before misters. I am so over men.”

Emma thought of Damon, his smile, his kiss, the genuine desire to protect.

“Not all guys are rats, Krys.”

Her sister snorted. “The hard part’s
meeting
them.”

“The hard part’s trusting yourself enough to let them in.”

When Emma led them through, her other guests swarmed over.

Gazing down at Shelley, Judd’s eyes glistened. “I’ll have a hold whenevah you’re ready,” he said.

When there was yet another knock on the door, Emma coughed out a laugh.

“It’s your turn,” she said to Damon.

“Who knows? At this rate, it might be Santa Claus and his entire elf entourage.”

It wasn’t Santa and his elves, but there was a sizable crowd gathered on Emma’s front lawn. Damon recognized many of the faces. In fact, he knew them all.

A man spoke up. Mr. Cannon, the father of the five-year-old boy he’d helped with that diagnosis earlier in the year.

“We heard you were leaving the Point,” Mr. Cannon said, stepping forward.

“That’s right. I have another position lined up for February.”

“You can’t go,” Mrs. Cannon, the boy’s mother, called out. Her nose was red from the cold or, perhaps, crying. “You’re the best doctor this town’s ever had.”

Wow
. Damon was taken aback. “I appreciate you saying that. It means a lot. More than you could guess. But―”

“When my girl had those crippling headaches,” another woman, Mrs. Chelsea, said, “you knew what caused them. She hasn’t had one in months.”

“You’ve done wonders for my snappy hip,” old Mr. Fisher called out.

“You always have time to talk,” a teen boy, Randy Marshall, chipped in.

“You can’t leave, Dr. Knight,” came a voice from the back.

“We need you,” someone said and everyone nodded and agreed.

Damon remembered to breath. He studied the group of Point St. Clairers, his patients, his neighbors and, he guessed, his
friends
.

The little boy stepped forward. “Dr. D, this is for you. From the whole town.”

Damon walked down the porch steps, crouched beside the boy and accepted a huge Christmas card. Inside were hundreds of signatures, declarations of how much they wanted him to stay on in town. The boy hugged his neck and whispered in his ear. “Mommy says you’re our Santa Claus.”

Damon’s chest tightened before emotion flooded every inch of him. He rubbed the boy’s head, straightened to his full height and, with misty eyes, scanned the sea of faces again. Everyone was smiling, sincere.

Welcoming.

When Damon’s cell phone rang, Mr. Cannon put up a hand. “We won’t keep you, Doc. You have a good day.” He called out to include Emma, who had come out to stand on the porch. “Merry Christmas to you all!”

Damon walked back up the stairs in a daze. With his phone still ringing in his pocket, he gave Emma the card. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“It takes a lot for folk like these to gush,” she said, looking through the signatures. “Guess you’re pretty special to them all.”

His phone beeped: a text.

“It’s my family,” he said a moment later, reading the message. “They want to descend on us New Years.” When Emma lost her breath, he chuckled. “I’ll tell them to give us some time. I’ll also let them know I’m staying on here at the clinic.”