“So, not so much as a good-night kiss?” Maggie asked when she and Callie chatted on the phone the next day. In the distance, the whine of power saws continued unabated. Nash Echols and crew had been working since shortly after dawn.
Imagining they would go until dark, Callie replied, “No. We just ate and talked, and then he told me to call him if I needed anything and headed out.”
“At least tell me you enjoyed yourself.”
Enjoyed herself hadn’t been the half of it, Callie thought. She had loved every second she spent with him. Even when he was challenging her on the fact she still wore her wedding rings.
Speaking of which... Callie looked down at her left hand. It had been itchy and uncomfortable since she had gotten up that morning. The irritation seemed the worst on the third finger of her left hand.
“Have you ever had a rash around your rings?” she asked her twin.
“Only that one time, when the guy I was dating in high school gave me a fake-silver-finish friendship ring. Remember? It turned my finger green?”
Callie laughed, thinking back to their relatively stress-free childhood. “I do, actually.”
“Why? Do you have a problem?”
“Not really.” Callie brushed it off. “I think my hands are just dry from the winter weather. I’ll put some extra hand cream on. That should take care of it.”
“So...are you ready for your first event tomorrow?” her twin asked.
Callie smiled. At least one thing in her life was going exactly the way she had planned. “Yes, I am.” The bunkhouse was already set up for the eight executives and their staff.
“I’ll pick up Brian at preschool and keep him overnight, the way we agreed.”
“Okay. But let me know if there are any problems,” Callie told her. “The meeting will break up around 9:00 p.m., so if Brian can’t settle down to sleep, I can come and get him then.”
“Will do,” Maggie promised. “And, Callie? Good luck!”
As it turned out, luck was not needed. The group arrived on time, was relatively undemanding and left shortly before eight that evening.
Nash had kept his word, too. There hadn’t been a single inkling of any tree-cutting the entire day.
Happy everything was proceeding smoothly once again, Callie called her sister to see how things were going with the boys. She was relieved to learn they had gone to bed at seven and fallen asleep right away. Maggie urged Callie to enjoy the night off. Callie promised to do so, thanked her sister and hung up the phone. She looked around another long moment.
The evening stretched ahead of her.
Without Brian there, without Nash just dropping by, the house was suddenly oddly quiet.
In that instant, Callie realized she had never felt lonelier in her life.
Which meant there was only one thing to do. She released a determined sigh. Get back to work.
A half mile down the road, Nash was just stepping out of the shower when he heard the email notification on his laptop ring. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he padded into the bedroom and saw the message from Callie. Instead of writing her back, he picked up the phone instead. She answered on the second ring, her voice every bit as soft and alluring as he recalled.
More enamored of her than ever, he said, “You wanted to talk to me about the Christmas Festival?”
“I know it’s another three weeks away, but I really need to get information about your business, so I can put together a brochure showcasing everything Echols Mountain has to offer. Is there some time in the next day or two you can meet with me in person?”
His spirits rose. “How about right now?” he asked, opening his bureau drawer.
“Sure, why not. You want to come here?”
He grabbed his boxer briefs and socks. “Be there in ten.”
It was more like seven. Three of which were spent driving from his ranch to hers.
Callie opened the door wide. Her hair was a silky cloud of dark curls that ended just above the nape of her neck. Smiling appreciatively, wishing he could haul her into his arms right then and there, his eyes drifted down over her delectable curves. She was clad in a red sweater dress that covered her from neck to knee, and sheer panty hose adorned her spectacular legs. A pair of big fluffy reindeer slippers covered her small, dainty feet.
He grinned. “Like your shoes.”
She facetiously modeled her footwear. “Brian and Henry picked them out for me last Christmas. They were so comfy I’ve made them my official holiday slippers.”
For someone who claimed not to be able to really celebrate Christmas, she sure looked happy now. Nash shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack. He ran his fingers through his still-damp hair. “Speaking of Christmas, what’s that incredible smell?”
“Gingerbread.” She grinned and walked him into the kitchen. “I’m trying to get the underlying cardboard house assembled tonight, too.”
He knew nothing about either baking or constructing the traditional confection. However, it didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to lend a hand. “How’s it going?” he asked casually.
She looked at the collapsed cardboard walls of the chalet-style building. “Not all that well, as you can see. Any ideas how we could stabilize it?”
Nash moved nearer. In the process he got a whiff of the flowery shampoo she used in her hair. Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he studied the flaws for a moment. “I think I would double or triple up on the cardboard frame, and use a stronger tape to hold it all together.”
“Okay, I’ll gather up what we need from my office. In the meantime, how about you have a seat and go through some of these marketing brochures.” She handed him a clear plastic storage box, her delicate fingers briefly brushing his in the process. “Pick out a few that appeal to you.”
There was an impressive selection. All sizes, colors, fonts. Even the presentation seemed different in all. To the point if she displayed them all, side by side on a rack, each one would still stand out as unique. “Did you do all of these?” he asked.
“Mmm-hmm.” She disappeared, and then came back with tape, scissors and extra cardboard. She disassembled the house, then began tracing the individual pieces she’d already made onto other pieces of cardboard with a pencil. “I’m putting together brochures for the local businesses participating in the festival. They’ll be tucked into the gift baskets the guests take home with them.”
Finished, she cut out the identical cardboard components along the previously traced lines.
He slid his glance to her once again. “What kind of information do you want?”
Another small, inviting smile. “Whatever you’d like to include. How you came to own Echols Mountain, for instance.”
“My great-uncle Ralph Echols was like a grandparent to me. As a young kid, my family visited him every summer. When I got older, I spent longer periods at the ranch, even worked there from time to time.”
“Did you always want to be in the tree business?” she asked curiously.
“I started thinking about it when I was about eighteen. My uncle said if I was serious, I needed to get a degree in forestry—which I did—and then spent ten years working in the industry in forest management.” He paused. “I saved every penny I could while I was working in the Pacific Northwest. I was just getting ready to come back to Texas for good when my uncle died and left the place to me.”
“Do you have any plans for the mountain besides selling Christmas trees and landscape plants?”
“I want to selectively harvest some of the pine for furniture and flooring companies, while keeping conservation in mind.”
“In other words, you can’t cut down too much.”
“Or too little.” As his uncle had, toward the end.
“Do you think you could write a few paragraphs explaining that in layman’s terms? Because honestly, I think that is a pretty major selling point for your business.”
“Sure.”
Nash picked out a couple of small brochures with color photos. All the while, he thought long and hard about what the ranch meant to him, how it had only been known for providing Christmas trees in the past—and for the past five years, not even that.
“Maybe I could take some pictures of the mountain, too? Show how the forest has evolved during the time it lay fallow? How, as a business, we can take advantage of that to make the woods even more productive while remaining environmentally sound?”
“That’s exactly the kind of information I need to have to devise a solid marketing brochure for you,” Callie enthused, just as the kitchen timer went off. After removing the gingerbread pans from the oven, she returned to the table, where the eight triple-cardboard pieces sat, ready to assemble. Her lips twisted ruefully. “Now, if I could just get the house walls to remain upright, instead of collapsing in on their sides...”
Glad to have something to do rather than just sit there while she worked, he grinned. “Let me help you.”
Finding it easier to work standing up, they carried the pieces to the kitchen counter. Nash held them in place while Callie cut and pressed the tape. When the last piece of roof went on, Nash let go. So did Callie.
She grinned as she realized it really was standing. “I don’t know if it will withstand hurricane force winds...or even the weight of the gingerbread cake slabs, but...”
“Well, there’s one way to find out,” he drawled. Winking mischievously, he bent down and pretended to see if he could blow it over.
“No!” Callie cried. Laughing, she tugged at his arm and pulled him upright so quickly and carelessly their bodies collided. The softness of her breasts pressed into the wall of his chest. Lower still, she was just as malleable and feminine.
Just that swiftly, the playful contact turned into something else. She looked into his eyes. He looked into hers. And then did what he had been wanting to do ever since the last time he’d held her in his arms.
Callie knew Nash was going to kiss her. Knew all the reasons why she shouldn’t let him. However, her will to resist faded when his mouth covered hers. Throwing caution to the wind, she rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. They were hot and supple, wickedly sensual and possessive. His body tautening, he drew her closer yet. His hands slid down her spine, flattening her against him and guiding her deep into his embrace. And still his tongue explored her mouth, laying claim to her inner recesses, again and again, until passion swept through her and she released a small moan. Of pleasure. Of need. Of the wish to be closer.
She had never given much thought to her own needs. Her own desires. But being with Nash made her want to change all that. He made her want to do something for herself, instead of just everyone else. He made her want to give in to the moment, just for a little while. Explore the proof of his desire. She arched against him, wanting and needing so much. To be held. Touched. Kissed. Loved. And though love, per se, wasn’t exactly in the equation, a feeling of femininity swept through her, intensifying the yearning she felt deep inside. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him so close they were almost one, her pulse pounding, her breasts rising and falling with each breath she took.
“Callie,” he whispered against her mouth.
Reluctantly, she drew back and opened her eyes. Said what was on her mind. What she refused to let encompass her heart. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Nash knew he was going to make love to her. He just hadn’t figured it would be tonight. He was pretty sure from the stunned, yet somehow dreamy, expression on her face, she hadn’t bargained on it, either. And that, more than anything, gave him pause.
“Callie,” he said again. Not wanting this, or anything about them, to be something she might later come to regret.
She lifted his hand to her lips, kissed the back of it. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you. When I do.” Releasing a tremulous breath, she continued, “And since the times I have without my son are few and far between...”
She didn’t have to say more.
He swung her up into his arms. “Which way?”
“Upstairs... First bedroom on the right.”
It was, as he would have half expected, a feminine haven. With a four poster bed, pale blue silk bed-linens, romantic chaise. Soothing neutral walls. Plush carpet.
He set her down next to the bed. Still thinking she might have changed her mind.
Instead, her hands went to the hem of her sweater dress. Swept it up over her head. It hit the floor. The panty hose followed. Then the red lace-edged slip. Clad in bikini panties and matching bra, she turned back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed.
She regarded him boldly. “You next.”
He knew her striptease had been part of a statement. She was an adult. She wanted sex-with-no-strings. She wanted it now. And she wanted it with him.
So he gave her an equally matter-of-fact show in return. Stripping off his boots, socks, shirt, jeans. And then, for good measure, removed his boxer briefs.
Her eyes widened. “Oh. My...”
Oh my was right. He sat down beside her, unclasped her bra and let that fall to the floor. The instant he lay her back on the sheets, her hands went to the elastic of her panties. He caught her fingers in his. “That can wait.”
He stretched out beside her, lowered his head and kissed her again. Slowly. Reverently. Until her lips were wet and swollen from his kisses. Her hair tousled, her cheeks pink. He shifted her back against the pillows, gathered her breasts in both hands and lifted the lush flesh to his mouth. She sighed in pleasure as he laved the tight buds with his tongue. Knowing this was the surest way to make her feel the connection between them, he kissed his way down her body, across her abdomen, to the apex of her thighs, her navel and back again. Needing her accessible, he swept off her panties, and then found the sweetest, silkiest part of her.
She arched and caught his head in her hands. Perspiration beaded her body, lower still moisture lined the insides of her thighs. She whimpered low in her throat and gave him full rein. He suckled the silky nub and stroked inside her, fluttering his tongue. Her back arched and her thighs fell even farther apart. She quivered as he cupped her bottom with both hands, rose and penetrated her slowly. She closed around him, like a wet hot sheath.
“Nash,” she whispered, wreathing her arms around him, her entire body shivering with need. He kissed her hard, still thrusting, claiming, feeling a little like a conqueror who had just captured the fair maiden of his dreams. She arched up to meet him, her response as true and unashamed as he had hoped it would be. He plunged and withdrew, aware of every soft, warm inch of her, every moan, every whimper, every clear declaration of need.
Until there was no more waiting, no more delaying, only the pleasure, only each other. And he went free-falling into the sweet and sexy oblivion right along with her.
Afterward, Nash felt her pull away. In less than a minute, Callie sat on the edge of the bed, released a sigh and buried her face in her hands. “It’s not in me to be reckless.”
And yet she’d climaxed nevertheless. As had he...
“But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Her chin set with customary determination, she got up and wrapped herself in a thick, luxurious, pale blue robe.
Although it covered her from neck to ankle, she only managed to look sexier. Maybe because he knew she was still naked—and quivering slightly—beneath.
She found a brush and restored order to her short, chin-length curls. And continued her litany of excuses, “It’s Christmas. I was on a high from having successfully hosted my first executive retreat. And—” she sighed again, even more loudly this time “—I’m lonely. At least in the sense of—”
“Having someone to make love with,” he guessed.
She nodded briefly, but did not meet his gaze.
He continued, a tad more cynically, “Hence you ended up in bed with me.”
“Right.” Callie paused, the edge of her teeth raking across her plump lower lip. She swung back to face him, her troubled gaze searching his face. “I imagine you’re a little lonely, too, having just moved to the area.”
Nash would have been insulted, had he not just made love with her, and known—firsthand—how completely she had given herself to him. How completely he had made love to her in return.
He rose lazily. Picked up his clothing. Began to dress. “Or in other words, your kicking me out now is nothing personal,” he said, his tone as suddenly matter-of-fact as hers.
She drew a deep, bracing breath and flashed a weak smile. “Of course not.”
He shrugged on his shirt and, still holding her flushed face firmly in his sights, began to button. “It’s the holiday season.”
“And why we shouldn’t be alone,” she swallowed, “with each other.”
The slight catch in her voice revealed more than she knew. He sat down on the edge of the mussed covers of her bed and tugged on his boots.
She came closer, her fingers working the ends of her snugly tied belt. She looked guilty, upset, contrite and unapologetic, all at once. “This wouldn’t have happened with anyone else.”
Nash was not sure why he was so irked. He had known from the outset, when he’d allowed himself to follow her up here, that it would end this way. He stood. “Good to know.”
She caught his arm before he could brush past her. “Nash.”
At the imploring nature of her touch, his whole body tensed. He looked down at her, jaw set. “I get it. You’d rather we not do this again.”
She dropped her hold. Stepped back. Gave him a beseeching glance. “We live next door to each other. We have to work together. I don’t want things to be...awkward.”
He snorted. “A little too late for that, don’t you think?”
Silence fell as their gazes met again.
Callie leaned back against the bureau, arms folded at her waist. “Can’t you just accept that I’m confused?”
He shook his head in silent admonition. “You’re not the only one.”
“I want to go back to being friends.”
Was that what they were? He’d felt they were on the verge of a lot more than that. “Of the strictly platonic variety,” she added hastily.
The practical side of Nash knew he should say yes to whatever she wanted and get the heck out of there, now. Before the situation got any more complicated. Instead, he followed his instincts once again. Slowly but surely closed the distance between them, drew her close and kissed her slowly, lingeringly, until she melted against him. As he enfolded her tighter in his arms, her right hand encircled his neck, her left hand—the one with the rings still on it—splayed helplessly across his chest.
Once again, he reluctantly lifted his head. “If that doesn’t show you we’re way past platonic,” he told her gruffly, “I’m just going to have to try harder. In the meantime...” He looked pointedly down at the red skin glowing, bright as Rudolph’s nose, beneath her wedding and engagement rings. “If I were you, I’d really see what I could do about that.”