In It to Win It (27 page)

“
I got your shopping done too.”

“
You did,” she nearly squealed and turned in his arms. “Oh, I could kiss you for that.”

“
Nobody’s stopping you.”

Her head tipped back and she moved up on her tiptoes. Her lips were soft and warm against his cheek. He shouldn’t have been disappointed by the chaste contact, but being the honest guy he was, he admitted he was hoping for at least lip to lip.

She must have understood his flash of dissatisfaction because she laughed softly. Her fingers entwined his and she tugged. “Come on, big boy, I’ll thank you properly upstairs.”

THE NEXT MORNING AFTER THEY’D MADE love and showered—and made love again
in
the shower—Jane stood in front of the tree unsure of what to do. Grayson seemed to have the whole trimming-the-tree thing down.

Bing Crosby crooned from the stereo and a delicious spicy scent wafted from the kitchen.

Grayson pulled one of the bulb boxes open and held a bright red ball out to her. She wrapped her fingers around it gently. The fragile thing was cold in her hand. She stared down at it where it was perched on her palm.

“
Jane?”

She looked up at him and blinked.

Sadly, she wasn’t sure what to do with the stupid, beautiful ball. Her mother had never let her even
touch
the tree, let alone decorate it. When she’d first gone out on her own in college, Molly stepped into the tree decorating shoes. Once her own place came around, Jane didn’t much care for the memories that the tree and Christmas brought to life.

So there you go … It didn’t take three ghosts for Jane to figure out why she hated Christmas. All it took was one glass ball, and the man who loved her.

“
It won’t break,” Grayson said with a smile. He was so close now that she could feel the heat from his body.

When had he moved so close to her? She wasn’t sure, but was glad that he had.

He plucked the bulb from her hand and stepped away. He held the hook between his forefinger and thumb. Before she could register the action, he opened his fingers and sent the ball into a freefall.

She gasped and jumped back.

Instead of a crash though, there was a small thud.

No harm. No foul.

Grayson bent at the waist and retrieved the ornament. He held it out to her. “Put it on the tree, love.”

With a smile on her face, she moved forward and stood there. Her hand moved to the top right, paused, moved more to the center and froze again. She leaned over and reached out to place it on a bottom branch but stopped, yet again.

Grayson’s warm fingers went around hers. “There is no wrong answer here. Pick a branch and stick it there. I don’t care if you rearrange the bulbs every day if that’s what makes you happy.”

“
Really?” Good hell, she sounded so disbelieving. She was so screwed up.

“
Yes, really. This is your tree, baby doll.”

Warmth spread from the tips of her toes right up to the top of her head. She liked that there was no wrong answer. That she couldn’t mess up. That if she didn’t like it, she could redo it.

This time when her hand reached out with the bulb, she let the hook grab onto a branch. She stood back for a moment and admired the single red ball hanging on the dark green tree and had never seen anything so beautiful.

“
You want another one?” Grayson asked, holding onto the hook of a silver ball.

“
Yeah. I do.” She took the ball and the first branch she reached for was now adorned with the decoration.

One ball after another, Jane and Grayson decorated the tree. It was surprisingly liberating. If she’d known that this would be her reaction to putting ornaments on a tree, she would have done it years ago.

Once it was all done, Jane leaned against Grayson. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Do you like it?”

“
I love it. But I think you were wrong about something.”

“
Me? Wrong?”

She laughed. “It’s possible, Pierce. As wonderful as you are, you’re not perfect.”

“
Wow.” He put a hand over his heart and acted offended. “What was I so wrong about?”

“
It’s not
my
tree.” She snuggled in close to him. “It’s
our
tree.”

18

C
HRISTMAS MORNING CAME WITH A LIGHT dusting of snow and a huge dose of excitement. Grayson couldn’t wait for Jane to open the presents he’d gotten for her. He could however wait until the end of time to visit her parents. Unfortunately, the end of time was scheduled to happen this afternoon.

Grayson couldn’t say that he didn’t respect Jane’s parents because, well, they were … her parents. But he did have issues with the baggage Jane carried around.

As a kid Grayson watched the moments when Jane’s mistakes were pointed out for the world to see by her own mother. As a teenager Grayson wanted to defend the girl he loved, but couldn’t find the cojones to speak up and potentially turn the wrath at himself.

Things were different now; Grayson was a man.

As a man he would defend the woman he loved, consequences be damned.

Jane came back from the kitchen, two coffee mugs in her hands. “I love this punch. Your mom used to make it when we were kids.”

“
Yep, every Christmas. It’s a family recipe. I’m not even sure where it started.”

She handed him a mug and sat down on the couch, curling her feet under her bottom. “It’s a great tradition that I plan on passing on to my kids.”

The words
our kids
almost flew out. Luckily he was able to bite down and keep them on the tip of his tongue. They hadn’t discussed what the future had in store. He had offered a future as his wife—and the mother of his children—but she had declined without even a heartbeat of thought.

All he knew was that she was with him in the present—and he didn’t plan on doing anything to jeopardize that.

“
You wanna do gifts now?” She practically bounced on the seat next to him and he wondered what she’d placed under the tree for him.

“
You want to open or give first?” he asked.

“
Give!” Not a single moment hesitation.

She handed him her coffee mug which he placed on the end table next to his own. She melted off the couch and scurried to the tree on her knees. She handed him a square package. The shiny silver paper had white snowflakes on it, topped with a red bow so big it dangled over the edges.

He took it from her and shook it. She giggled when it didn’t make a sound. He frowned and looked at her. It was the exact size and shape of a CD.

He held it up and very obviously scrutinized the size. “Gee, I wonder what it is.”

She slapped at his knee. “Open it, then you won’t have to wonder.”

The smile on her face and the twinkle of mis-chievous delight in her eyes made his heart warm and he fell in love with her all over again. He tore open a corner, his eyes on hers. Sliding a finger up the center of the paper revealed a clear CD case.

Was he good, or what?

It wasn’t a CD though. It was a DVD.

“
What’s this? Home movies?” he asked, the thought making tingles of anticipation shiver through his lower regions.

A burst of laughter erupted out of her, making him laugh too. “No. You’d know if those existed. It’s your interview.”

That made him smile. He looked down at the silver disk again and appreciated what he held in his hands. It signified what she truly thought of him. Her thoughts and feelings would be evident in the pictures and words in the story she shared with the world.

“
Can we watch it now?” he asked.

“
Sure.”

He realized how selfish that made him. “Why don’t you open yours and then we’ll watch it.”

“
No, it’s okay.” She took the DVD from his hands and popped it into the player. She crossed back to him and snuggled up next to him on the couch. Her legs were folded under her and her head rested on his shoulder.

The first frame popped up and she hit play. Her voice filled the room as a picture of him on the field filled the screen.

“
Grayson Pierce is known by most as a man who enjoys his cars, his liquor and his women. This reporter was given the chance to find out what the world doesn’t know about him.”

His face popped up. “I know that fame comes with the fortune, but I prefer anonymity.”

The picture panned across the outline of his ranch, enough to give an idea of the beauty but not the location.

“
Anonymity he might be able to achieve, but this baseball all-star is far from anonymous. He is a hometown boy, devoted to those he cares about.”

Grayson groaned when his mother’s face appeared. “When did you…?”

“
Shh!”

Maude was smiling. “Grayson’s always taken the best care of me he could. When he was five he thought he’d drive to the store and get me some medicine when I was sick with the flu.”

The picture of his face covered in ink popped up as his mother continued, “At one point he was determined to become an artist to support us.”

The story continued, portraying Grayson in exactly the way he wanted; loving, caring, kind … decent.

Finally Jane came on screen. She was bundled in her winter clothes, standing on the front porch. “I have to admit that I too bought the façade of the man we’ve all seen over the years.” She stepped off the porch and walked toward the camera, her face getting closer. “But after spending a week, living the real life Grayson lives, I can tell you that he is a wonderful man. Reporting from the home of Grayson Pierce, Utah’s very own MVP, this is Jane Alexander, KHB Sports.”

The screen went black.

Grayson didn’t know what to say. His eyes stung and he blinked. His throat was tight and he cleared it so that he might be able to say something. Jane’s body tensed next to his. He guessed she thought he didn’t like it, when only the contrary was true.

“
Is it okay? I can change it,” she stammered. “Dale wants to wait to air it until February ratings anyway. Which part didn’t you—”

He interrupted her by pulling her into his lap and kissing her. Her body relaxed against his and she accepted his kiss, returning it with fervor. One of his hands slid up to hold the back of her spine, the other resting on the small of her back.

She moaned and pulled back, searching his eyes. “It was okay?”

“
Yeah, okay.” His heart was so full of love for the woman in his arms that he was sure it would burst. “You know I love you.”

“
I’ve suspected as much,” she said with a small laugh. “You aren’t mad that I got your mom? Nate and I went back to get the interview with her. That’s why I was so late the other night.”

He scowled at her, but the expression was only skin deep. “She talks too much.”

“
Yeah, and no one knows you better than your mother. I couldn’t resist putting that adorable picture on TV. It’s good to know that if baseball doesn’t work out that you have another career to fall back on.”

“
Another career,” he scoffed. “I’m gonna marry a sugar-mama and live off her money.”

Her face fell. “Sugar-mama, huh?”

“
You’re beautiful face is on TV, you must be loaded, right?”

She smiled, but looked around her house. “If you can live like this—” She waved a hand around her small living room. “—then I guess I can be your sugar-mama.”

“
Good to know.” He nodded, grinning like a fool. “Good to know.”

He eased her off his lap and knelt next to the tree. “Your turn.”

JANE WAS SO RELIEVED THAT HE’D LIKED THE story. She hadn’t had to editorialize even one single word in it. Everything she said—and included—she felt … to the very core of her.

It had taken him a moment to speak after it faded to black. Doubt that he liked it hadn’t occurred to her in that moment. She knew that his emotions were getting the better of him. And that made her love him even more.

The package he handed her was heavy for its size, about the width of a book but not quite that tall. Just like he had, she lifted it to her ear and shook it. And just like he had, she frowned. The roles continued to be reversed as he laughed at her reaction.

She had been excited to give her the DVD and he was obviously thrilled for her to open this particular box. She had to pretend that she hadn’t been digging under the tree. She also had to pretend that she hadn’t already shaken this box and known it didn’t make a sound. She knew that there was another box under the tree—a box that most likely came from a jeweler.

Would she be engaged before the morning was over?

Because this time if he asked, she would most emphatically say yes.

She tore the paper from the box and held a black box in her hands. There was gold writing on it. Her heart skipped a beat. She’d wanted one of these, but had never seemed to find the money to purchase it.

Pretending not to know what it was she looked up at him, hoping that the question reflected in her gaze. It must have because he said, “Open the lid.”