Breath on Embers (12 page)

“I agree,” he replied, and went into his bedroom to get a box from his closet. Back in the living room, he hunkered down and slid the box next to hers.

Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip in a tentative, endearing gesture. “Do I know what’s in that box?”

The big gold Idylle embossed on the lid probably gave it away. He rested his forearms on his knees and shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe I reused the box.”

“Maybe you did,” she said. “Do you know what’s in mine?”

“No idea,” he said.

Her hands resting on her lap, she studied both gifts. “In my family we had a tradition where you could open one gift on Christmas Eve,” she said.

He grinned. “In my family we had to wait.”

“Hmm,” she said. “A dilemma.”

“Not really,” he said. “Go ahead.”

The ribbon gave way easily, and Thea lifted the lid from the box to reveal the red silk robe, the neckline open to reveal the brown velvet inside. Her fingers traced the embroidery. “I love it,” she said, then surprised him with a spontaneous kiss. “I wanted it so much when we were there.”

He slid his hand into her hair to hold her for a longer, deeper kiss. “Wear it for me later?”

“Of course,” she said a little breathlessly. “Your turn.”

His box held the blue-and-gray tartan scarf from the Coach store across the street. He laughed in surprise and delight as he lifted it from the box.

“It’s practical,” she said almost apologetically.

“It’s great,” he said. “I’ll tell Tim not to steal this one.”

She choked on the last of her peppermint cocoa. “Tim steals your scarves?”

“It’s a running gag,” he said. “I know there’s a sack full of them somewhere in the station because every year said sack appears in my locker when the temps hit the sixties. I end up donating them to the shelter and starting over in the fall.”

“Men,” she said, shaking her head.

“Your IT guys don’t do practical jokes?”

“Please,” she said dismissively. “Tape over optical mouse sensors, language preferences changed on phones and computers, rewiring the monitor cables to change the colors on the monitors.”

“You can do that?” he interrupted.

“Slice open the cable with an X-Acto knife and you’re good to go. Or so I hear,” she said hastily. “It gets worse on April Fool’s Day. Creative engineers can really mess with your day.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Guess I know where to go for ideas to get him back,” he said, then picked up the box from Idylle with one hand and offered the other to help her to her feet. “Let’s see how this looks.”

By the lights on the Christmas tree she shimmied out of her clothes. He shook out the robe and held it for her. White light illuminated her skin as she slid her arms into the sleeves. He pulled her back against his body and nuzzled into her hair while reaching around to slowly fasten each toggle.

“So warm,” she murmured.

He wrapped his arms around her tight enough to make her squeak, then hoisted her into his arms. “In a minute,” he said, “I want to take you into the bedroom and take my sweet time getting you naked. But for now, I want to just sit here with you, and look at the lights.”

Her wide, dark eyes met his without hesitation, reflecting the hundreds of lights on the tree, glowing from the light within. She reached up to cup his jaw, then brushed her thumb over his mouth. “I’d like that,” she said.

Still holding her in his arms, he sank down on the sofa. She cuddled into his body, rested her head on his shoulder, and turned her face to the illuminated tree.

“Merry Christmas, Ronan,” she said softly.

A line from Christmas mass floated up from childhood.
And the light shone in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

Not this time. Not on his watch.

He smoothed her hair back, then bent to kiss the top of her head. “Merry Christmas, Thea.”

* * * * *

About the Author

After doing time at Fortune 500 companies on both coasts, Anne landed in a flyover state, where she traded business-casual for yoga pants and decided to write down all the lively story ideas that got her through years of monotonous corporate meetings.

Her first novel won the EPIC Award for Contemporary Erotic Romance, and her first novella was chosen for Smart Bitch Sarah’s Sizzling Book Club. When she’s not writing she’s knitting, sewing, working in the garden, reading, and wrangling her son and a rescue dog named Kate. Please visit
annecalhoun.com
for more information on upcoming releases.

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ISBN: 978-14268-9477-0

Copyright © 2012 by Anne Calhoun

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