Chapter 26

Chris stopped breathing when her hand folded around him. When she began stroking him back and forth, he knew he wouldn’t last long. “If we’re going to go slowly, this isn’t such a good idea,” he said.

“Sorry.” Her smile reflected anything but sorrow as she continued to torture him.

“Vixen,” he whispered, removing her hand from inside his jeans. Before she could protest, he pulled them off and this time pushed her onto the bed.

She reached for the bottom of her T-shirt, but again he stopped her. “Un uh.” He slid his hand beneath the shirt and upward to caress her breasts, one at a time. 

She lay on the bed, her eyes closed as she gave into the pleasure of his touch. A moment later, he had pulled her shirt up and off and then her panties had vanished. So much for slowly, she thought. She was as ready for him as she’d been the first time.

Again she reached for him, but he pulled away. He was throbbing with desire for her, and it would only become painful if she touched him. As she had said, too much foreplay over the past few weeks. And too many nights of lying awake wanting her, dreaming of her, making love to her in his mind.

He slid his hand up and down her legs softly, enjoying the vision of her becoming aroused by his touch. She swayed beneath his hand in a dance of pleasure which soon became more and more demanding.

“I want you inside of me.” She opened her eyes to meet his.

He shook his head. “Slowly, remember?”

“Not fair. You’re touching me, but you won’t let me touch you.”

“We didn’t say anything about fair.”

“Yeah, well did we say something about torture?”

He smiled down at her as his hand reached the top of her legs. “You’ve been torturing me for three weeks. It’s my turn.”

She groaned but it soon turned to a gratified moan as he slid two fingers inside of her, teasing and tempting her into a different dance, this one with her pelvis raised to meet his hand in an attempt to control him. But he didn’t give up control easily, not when he was enjoying being the one who had it for a change.

Keeping his hand in position to pleasure her, he leaned down to suck her breasts, first one, then the other. She grasped the back of his head as she raised herself off the bed to encourage him. “Oh, God, I want you so much. I can’t take anymore,” she cried out just as he felt her convulsing around his fingers.

His movement grew faster, pushing against her pleasure spot as she became lost in the heat and the moment. When she stopped moving and relaxed onto the bed, he slowly released his mouth from her breast and slid his fingers out of her.

Her eyes were glazed over when she opened them to meet his. “What was that?” she whispered.

“That was you coming,” he said calmly.

“I know, but what the hell?”

“What the hell?”

“I mean, I’ve never come like that.”

“No? Why do you think that is?” He knew but he was going to let her find the answer.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you?”

She tried to regain some semblance of control by pulling the sheet over her naked, satiated body. “Obviously you have a theory.”

It was more than a theory. “You like being in control.”

She raised a single eyebrow, about to challenge him, but he was right. Damn. He knew her a little too well. Instead she sat up and reached for his erection. This time he didn’t pull away. “Okay then, since you know that about me, are you going to let me have my way with you?”

Chris lay down on the bed beside her. “Oh, yeah.”

She watched his face and his eyes that remained open as she eased her hand up and down, stroking his already throbbing shaft. She wanted to devour him, pull him inside of her, but didn’t want to let him off quite that easily. She rolled on top of him, her hand still possessing him as she slid up and down his body, indulging her breasts in the pleasure of skin to skin contact. When he started groaning and pulling back, she knew she was definitely the one in control. She shifted into a straddle position, and held him in place so she could ease him inside of her. And then she was rocking back and forth, relishing the feel of him stretching her and filling her completely.

They moved in harmony, not unlike a dance, she thought, but then her thoughts were gone, and all she could do was feel and move and satisfy and indulge and love. An instant later, he had gripped her hips and was raising himself with thrusts to meet her receptive body. And then she was lost in the sound of their coming together, pulling, holding, plunging, crying out, gasping for breath until they were lying side by side, both satisfied now.

Chris forced his eyes to open so he could enjoy her flushed cheeks and throat that revealed her sated state. And the glazed look in her eyes that said how good she felt and even possibly how much she loved him.

He’d never been with a woman who gave so much when she made love, who felt so much. Her lovemaking was like her dancing. She moved with fluidity and power. Raw emotion and passion. And she gave with her heart and soul. He loved her beyond words, beyond anything he’d ever known.

He was tempted to lock his door and never let her leave. He would keep her there forever and make love to her day and night. Suddenly he had an inkling of why other men might have given her the message that they wanted more from her. They wanted her to stay. They wanted her in their bed every night. They didn’t want to share her passion in bed with her passion for dance.

“What?” she whispered.

He cursed himself for allowing those thoughts to surface and possibly allowing them to be reflected in his eyes. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms so she wouldn’t see his eyes.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said.

“How much time do we have?”

She raised her head to see the clock. “Oh, shit!”

“That bad?”

“If we’re going to shower before we go to dinner, yeah, that bad.”

He kissed her on the top of her head. “You want to help out.”

Her heart warmed. She liked that he knew that about her. “I’d feel really bad if I didn’t help. I’ve been so busy I didn’t even help Aunt Ivy with the baking this year, and I hardly helped out at the tree farm. So, yes, I want to be there in time to at least help set up the tables.”

“You go first then.” He nodded toward the bathroom.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure of a couple things. One, if we shower together, we’ll not only miss setting up, but we’ll probably miss dinner. Two, it takes longer to dry your hair than mine.”

Anne kissed him lightly on the lips and slid out from beneath the covers. As he watched her naked dancer’s body glide across the room and disappear, he felt himself stir even then. Damn, what the woman could do to him.

Nan nudged her husband Grant when the pub door opened and Anne walked in, arm in arm with a very handsome young man. “Her photographer?” she asked.

Grant nodded. “Yep, that’s Christopher Newell.”

“What’s he like?”

“Seems very nice. His niece Sara is crazy about him. That says a lot.”

“Yes, it does.” Nan kissed her husband on the cheek, grasped his hand, and headed toward the glowing couple. “Introduce me.”

Grant laughed. “As if you can’t introduce yourself.”

Chris knew who she was the moment she started across the room towards them.

“Come on, we can help put the table cloths on,” Anne said, pulling him toward the bar where a stack of white linen table cloths sat.

“Uh, I think your mom wants to meet me.”

Anne stopped and laughed as she saw her mother in their path. “Sorry about that,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“She’ll ask you a lot of questions.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” The only questions he had been asked by his parents in his youth were who a girl’s family was and what their social standing was. He was looking forward to meeting Nan Jameson.

Grant introduced them before Anne could.

“You two go help out, would you? I want to be alone with this lovely man.” Nan slid her arm through Chris’s and guided him away from the crowd of helpers.

“I think I’m needed for setting up tables,” Grant said.

“And I’m needed with table cloths.” Anne followed her father.

Chris smiled when she gave him another apologetic look. He could have told her it wasn’t necessary. He was not in the least bit uncomfortable answering any questions her mother tossed at him. There was nothing she could ask that could surprise him.

“So, you’re in love with my daughter?”

Except that, but not so much by the question itself as by the fact that it was the first one out of her mouth.

“How did you know that?”

Nan’s blue eyes that Anne had inherited were dancing with the mischief her daughter had also inherited. “The way you were looking at her.”

“Fair enough. And, yes, I am very much in love with your daughter.”

“Have you told her yet?”

“Not in those exact words.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to scare her away.”

“You’re as wise as you look.”

Chris chuckled. “Uh, thanks.”

“So, when do you think you’ll be telling her?”

“When I think she won’t run when she hears the words. Unless I happen to blurt it out before that which I’ve come close to doing numerous times.”

“I like you,” Nan said, again surprising him with her frankness. Easy to see where Anne got it.

“You don’t really know me.”

“I know enough.”

He tilted his head to the side and looked at her. “What do you know?”

“That Sara adores you. And, for that matter, so does my daughter. And that because you’re well aware of her tendency to dump men before she leaves on tour, you’ve held her off.”

Chris felt his face heating up as he stared into the eyes of his lover’s mother.

“Okay, so until today you were successfully holding her off.” Nan chuckled to herself. “And just so you know, she has feelings for you too.” She furrowed her brow as she studied his expression. “But then you know that, don’t you? Which is why you finally gave in to her.”

Shit. Now the heat wasn’t just rising up his neck and cheeks, but he was sure his forehead was wet with perspiration. “Speaking of wisdom . . . . I’d say you have it over me hands down.” He blew out his breath. “And just so you know, she’s not an easy woman to resist.”

“No, I don’t suppose she is. And when she wants something—”

“She doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“How about you?”

“Me? I think I’m a little less headstrong than she is.”

Nan scanned the room before lowering her voice. “That’s too bad.”

“And why is that?” Chris asked, struggling to figure out what she was trying to tell him.

“Because it might be good if you didn’t take no for an answer either.”

As the woman he hoped would be his future mother-in-law walked away, he was grinning. She was absolutely right. He’d received some excellent advice from this family. He could add this to the list.

After being welcomed by the McCullough grandparents and visiting with a few members of the family he’d met, he strode across the room to where Anne was covering the large folding tables that had just been set up. He took one end of the linen cloth and extended it the full distance of the table. Silently they moved across the room until all the tables were covered. He glanced up to see Nick and Skye and her mother, Ivy, and a couple other people putting together centerpieces for each table. Some had snowmen, some had santas, some reindeer. All had mini Christmas trees. Nick caught his eye and offered him a congratulatory wink.

Palmer and Emily Burnett and their daughter Kelly whom he remembered from backstage, and two other cousins, undoubtedly Kelly’s brother and sister were behind the bar setting up glasses for drinks and uncorking several bottles of wine. Anne guided him over to the bar where she handed him a stack of plates. As he held them, she pulled each one off the top of the pile to set the tables. After they were finished with the plates, Chris took a moment to answer his sister’s text asking if he was eating a TV dinner.

“Not this year,” he texted back. “I’m having a McCullough Christmas.” He smiled when he hit the send button. When he looked up again, he noticed that several other people had arrived, including Alex and Cassie and Matt and Arielle and two young children who he assumed were Matt’s children, two older couples, and even more McCullough cousins. Easy to spot with their dark brown hair and bright blue eyes.

Anne introduced him to a few whose names he hoped he wouldn’t forget. He concentrated on her immediate family, chatting with the twins, Aidan and Allie, while they all helped with napkins and silverware. As glasses and wine bottles landed on the tables, food appeared in their place on the bar. A well-honed machine, he thought. Everyone participated, stopping long enough to greet and hug one another. The room was filled with incredible scents, from freshly roasted turkey to pine from the giant Christmas tree in front of the window to even a hint of lilac. Anne’s scent. One he had grown to love.

And then it began. They stood in line, plates in hand, serving themselves from the platters of abundant food. 

Anne nudged him when he stopped in front of three turkeys. “That one,” she said. “My grandmother’s.”

She took the liberty of serving him a scoop of the mashed carrots and turnips. Chris laughed when she scooped herself twice as much. “Just save room for Aunt Ivy’s pies. They’re out of this world.”

As far as he was concerned, this entire meal was out of this world, as were the people who had welcomed him into their family celebration. Toasts were made, words of gratitude expressed, and the meal began. 

All Chris could think about was that if he had his way, this time next year, Shelly and Sara would be sitting here beside him. And all of their dreams of being part of a large, loving family would come true.

The room was filled with the sound of chatter, laughter, clinking glasses and silverware, and Christmas music. Every kind of Christmas music from classical to Skye’s favorite, country western. The food was delicious, but Chris found himself stopping to listen, observe, and to wish he had brought his camera.

“What?” Anne asked when she finally shoved her still half-full plate away from her.

“It’s everything a Christmas should be,” he said.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m just wishing I’d brought my camera with me.”

“Ooh, of course. Can you go get it?”

Chris nodded and pushed back his chair. “Don’t let anyone steal the rest of my food.” He winked at her.

“Don’t worry, I’m stuffed.”

“I like him,” Allie said to her big sister once he had left the pub.

“Yeah? Well, don’t get any ideas. He’s mine.”

Allie’s eyebrows shot up simultaneously. “Did you hear what you just said?”

Anne gave her a look of annoyance. “Of course, I heard what I said. I said it, didn’t I?”

“So, repeat it.”

“I said, don’t get any ideas. He’s— Oh, my God.”

“Thought so,” Allie said. “You’re still terrified of losing your heart, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t just her heart she was terrified of losing, but herself. Anne scowled at her little sister. “Of course not!” She shoved back her chair and stood up. “I’m going visiting.”

She heard Allie’s laughter as she strutted across the room to visit with her cousins who had come from far away places. First Kayleigh and Kieran, and then Sloan. She would be seeing Mairi next week when she stayed with her at Alex’s condo in the city so she didn’t spend as much time chatting with her. Instead she headed for the newlyweds who had just returned from honeymooning in France and Italy. She’d spent the previous afternoon hauling trees with Sophie, but she hadn’t had a chance to welcome Sean home.

She scrunched between them, sitting on the edge of each of their chairs. “So, you two, how’s it going?”

Sean kissed her on the cheek. “Great. Good to be home with the family.”

“Sheesh, you were only gone what, a little over two weeks? Some world traveler you are.”

“Not all of us love roaming the world, you know. I am a country boy at heart. And an organic farmer. So, enough about us, tell us what’s been going on with you? We heard you’ve been invited to dance in a special performance.”

“I have.” Anne gave them a brief description of the dance and the venue and the guests.

“Very cool,” Sean said. “We’ve also heard about a guy you’re seeing. Judging from a distance, he’s pretty cute.”

Anne laughed and looked up just as Chris re-entered the pub, his camera hanging around his neck.

“Very cute,” Sophie said. “So, when did you start dating your stalker? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Stalker? What are you talking about?”

Shit. Chris knew the instant he’d been busted. If he was right, the cute woman with the curly golden hair was the same woman who had spotted him taking pictures of Anne teaching last summer when he’d come to Canden Valley the first time. And then again when she’d been out dancing with her friends at the Dunedin Inn. So much for his lucky break. So much for not being busted before he got a chance to confess his stalkerish behavior to Anne. 

What the hell was she doing here anyway and who was she? When Anne stood up, he looked at the man sitting beside her. Damn. The one witness to his crime would have to go and marry Sean McCullough. And of course, she and Sean would come home from their honeymoon in time to spend Christmas with their family. Of course she would mention to Anne that she’d seen him taking pictures of her. Of course she would mention seeing him drool over her when she whirled around the dance floor.

He had meant to tell her. Eventually. Definitely before her friend who turned out to be her cousin-in-law did. And now it was too late. There was no mistaking the expression on Anne’s face as she strode across the room toward him. Fury.

She stopped directly in front of him. “You’ve been stalking me?”

“Uh, well, I’m not sure I’d call it stalking. More like doing research.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Taking pictures of me at my dance studio without introducing yourself? Or asking me? And at the inn when I’m out dancing with my friends? Oh, yeah, Sophie told me everything.”

Sophie. Damn. That’s where he’d heard her name. Nick had mentioned it in relationship to her having seen him with his camera. “You’re angry.”

“Not exactly angry.” Which surprised her. She should have been. “A little, I suppose. Bewildered.” Actually, she was kind of flattered. She placed her hands on her hips. “So talk.”

“I’ve been photographing you since I first saw you dance in San Francisco.”

“You mean when you saw me dance to the Emily Dickinson poem?”

“And after.”

“You mean you kept watching me dance after that?”

“You could say that.” Pretty much most nights she had performed in San Francisco, and even a couple rehearsals. And when he’d been in the area, he had detoured to a performance here and there, such as when he was in Denver taking a series of photographs of some friends’ new baby, and in Chicago when he was doing a series of photographs for an article, and New York because he wanted to see a Broadway play, and Los Angeles because he hadn’t been there for a while, and Seattle because he loved the rain. But she didn’t need to know any of that.

“For how long?”

“A few months?” He thought of the photograph on the cover of the magazine that would be hitting newsstands any minute. It wouldn’t take her long to figure out when he’d shot it. “Several months?”

“Since?”

He stared down at his camera that he probably wouldn’t be using tonight. “Since June?”

“Let me get this straight. You’ve been watching me dance since last June? Why didn’t you talk to me sooner? Like all those months ago when you first saw me dance?”

“What can I say? I was smitten.”

“Don’t you mean scared?”

“That too. You can be very intimidating, you know. And I kind of figured out your M.O. after observing you for a while.”

“Don’t you mean stalking me for a while?”

He winced. “I realized I had to do things differently. It took me a while to figure out how to approach you.”

“By representing yourself as a photographer, here to do a photo essay on me?”

“I thought it was a good idea.”

“Is it even real? Did you do a photo essay?”

“Yes.”

She slowly inhaled a deep breath, somewhat aware that the room was becoming quieter by the minute. “Okay, so after watching me for a while and taking pictures of me, why didn’t you approach me then?”

“I was afraid you’d think I was stalking you.”

“Which you were.”

He shrugged a noncommittal response.

She mustered her sternest glare and looked into his eyes. “Stalking, I can live with. Maybe. Just so long as you’re not playing me.”

“I’m not playing you, Anne.” He reached for both of her hands and held them to his lips. Then he stared into those ocean blue eyes of hers, and his heart felt as if it would leap out of his chest. “Definitely not playing you. I’m in love with you.”

The room had gone silent, as silent as a room full of McCulloughs could be. Silent enough for most members of the family to hear his declaration of love.

“You’re . . . you’re in love . . . with me?” She’d known it for a while, but somehow hearing him say it made it different, real, and even more terrifying.

“Yes, I’m in love with you. I told you I’m the one whose heart is on the line here. I’m the one who’s head over heels in love. I’m the one who—” He stopped just short of proposing. “The one who stands to lose everything.”

“And that’s why you’ve been taking so much time to—?” She smiled, only slightly aware that the entire room of McCulloughs was watching them . . . and listening to them. “Why you’ve been so slow to—you know.”

“Yes. Because I want more out of this relationship than you do. I want everything.”

“Everything?” She looked pale as she stood in front of him.

Knowing how scared and vulnerable she was somehow gave him courage. “Everything.” He scanned the room and spotted Nan Jameson and winked at her. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.” He reached for her hand again and pressed it to his lips. “Just so you know, as determined as you’ve been to seduce me, I’m even more determined to marry you.”