Page 83 of A Very Naughty Christmas

Dixie moved closer. As her hands slid up his chest and around his neck, she tippedher head and looked meaningfully up at the green ball with its pearly white berries. Beaming happily, she rose on tiptoe, her mouth stopping a fraction shy of his.

“You don’t have to ask this time, honey. I choose both; deep romance and enduring friendship. And, I choose you, Kyle Prescott, because I love you with all of my heart.”

His kiss was his reply, and she felt it in the hungry press of his lips and every swirling sweep of his tongue. It wasn’t until long minutes later, when cries of ‘hurry it along’ drifted to them from inside, that they realized they had an audience.

“C’mon, supper is getting cold!”

“I’m starved. If you’re not gonna eat, get a room.”

“Yeah, or save it for later, ‘cause Nana ain’t getting any younger while we wait.”

Someone could be heard scolding over the good-natured chuckles, including Emmaline’s, “Don’t be ugly, Jeffrey. It’s Christmas.”

Kyle raised his head while still holding her clasped firmly against his chest, his extraordinary eyes gleaming with happiness in the soft light. “Not so refined and cultured now, are they?”

“Depends on where you come from.” A small smile of delight curved her lips. “And from where I stand, I think they’re lovely.”

“Not half as lovely as you,” he murmured. “Merry Christmas, sweet Dixie. And I love you too, with all my heart. I think I have since I was seventeen.”

After she battled back tears and succumbed to another steamy, too-brief kiss beneath the mistletoe, he led her in to where the family was waiting.

“Excellent,” Miss Emmaline said as they joined them. “Now that everyone is here we can go in to dinner.”

“Except for Marcy,” someone said. “Shouldn’t we wait?”

Their hostess sniffed delicately. “She was disinvited this year, and we are enjoying such a drama-free holiday because of it, I’m thinking of making it permanent.”

“Marcy?” Dixie asked, her throat gone dry.

“Yes,” Emmaline replied, “and that reminds me of a piece of news, Caroline. There is a recent opening on the CFWNC advisory panel that I think you would be perfect for, or if you are too busy, perhaps Dixie might serve.”

“Mother,” Caroline gasped. “You didn’t.”

She didn’t answer, except for an evasive shrug.

“I don’t understand,” Dixie whispered to Kyle. “What’s the CF whatever?”

Mrs. G., who had nothing wrong with her hearing, answered, “The CFWNC, dear. It’s a community foundation, which many of the local business use to administer their philanthropic endeavors: Prescott Industries, Goodwin Global, and the Biltmore Company, to name a few.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Trisha was on the advisory board,” Kyle explained. “It was a bragging right for her.”

“Which she carped on incessantly,” Emmaline grumbled. “She will be getting a certified letter first thing Monday morning that her appointment has ended.”

Beside Dixie, Kyle chuckled while his grandmother gave her a conspiratorial wink before she added, “I hear karma is a real bitch, dear.”

“You know!” she breathed.

“Of course,” Emmaline said with a grin. “And I’m heartbroken that I missed it. You are the talk of the town. And I applaud you for it. Those two… Well, I’m too much of a lady to say what they are. But Dixie dear, believe me when I say, I couldn’t have done it as artfully myself.”

Dixie gaped in amazement; the sly old woman knew everything it seemed.

What followed was the best Christmas Eve she could remember. Filled with so many smiles that her cheeks were sore, there was also good food, wine, wonderful people, and lots of presents. With a last-minute invite, Dixie didn’t have time, or the money, to come prepared, especially with so many. She only had two gifts to give.

The first she planned to give to Kyle later, one of the few non-landscape paintings she’d ever attempted. People—real ones, not caricatures—were a challenge for her, so she stuck to what she did best. However, this unique painting had come from somewhere deep inside. It was one of a doctor with a small child, which seemed the perfect gift for a man who gave so much to others, especially the young.

The other was for Miss Emmaline. It was a landscape, not of the cold starkness of winter, but of springtime at nearby Bridal Veil Falls. With her camera, she’d caught it in the perfect light so that the water, which started overhead with frothy white water, then fell in a shimmering cascade, resembled a bride’s veil. On that early spring day, it had been surrounded by a rich palette of greens from the trees and a mix of purples and reds from the redbuds that were in bloom. When she’d picked it out for her weeks ago, it hadn’t had as much meaning as it did after seeing her friend as a bride, with her beloved husband.

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