Page 26 of One Christmas Eve
“No.” He held the eye contact with her for several seconds before looking away with a sheepish smile. “They’re silver. And white.”
“That sounds very...” The sentence trailed away as she tried to find the right word.
“Boring?” he asked, and she saw the shadow cross his expression.
“I was going to say elegant. Or sophisticated.” She shrugged as she pulled up the flaps on the first box. “White lights have such a beautiful glow about them. Like a crisp winter day.”
“Yes.”
She was happy to see his smile reach his eyes, but then his expression gave way to horror. “What the hell is that?”
Laughing, she held up the green ceramic Christmas tree that was a little over a foot tall. “This is a staple of Christmases past. You plug it in and all the little colored bulbs light up.”
“I thought you’d probably drape some red garland over my curtain rod and maybe put a candle in the window or something.”
“This is the ultimate Christmas decoration,” she insisted. “Trust me, you’ll feel more festive.”
“In case you can’t tell from my face, I’m skeptical.”
Rather than debate the charm of the old ceramic tree, she walked over to the end table closest to the living room window, which she knew had an outlet, and plugged it in. Then she pulled the curtains closed, which didn’t totally block out the sun, but at least let the tiny bulbs shine a little.
“Itiscute,” he admitted after a moment. “And cheerful.”
“Told you so.” She went back to the box and pulled out a length of red garland, which she held up for his inspection.
“That looks like one of those feather things women wear around their necks.”
“A feather boa?” She draped it around her neck and then tossed an end over the opposite shoulder while cocking her hip in an exaggerated way.
He laughed, walking toward her. “That suits you.”
She spun the end in slow circles, trying to ignore the tiny red metallic pieces that fell off and drifted to the floor. The garland was probably as old as she was, and it wasn’t intended to be apparel.
When he snagged the end of the garland and used it to pull her close, Zoe sucked in a breath, then let it out on a breathless laugh.
“You didn’t seem surprised to see me this morning,” she said. “So I assume you have some memories from last night.”
“You were the first thing I thought about when I opened my eyes.” He let go of the garland and put his hands on her hips. “But that’s not unusual for me.”
She melted when the meaning of his words sank in. It seemed he spent as much time thinking about her as she spent thinking about him. “You’re one hell of a kisser, I must say.”
He grinned, his eyes on her mouth. “Does that surprise you?”
“Mostly I’m just wondering if you kiss that well when you’re sober.”
His fingertips bit into her hips. “I’m sober now, so maybe we should try it again and see.”
She cupped the back of his neck as she rose onto her toes, and his lips met hers. It was a gentle kiss at first, almost tentative, but as she leaned into him, he increased the pressure.
When his tongue dipped into her mouth, she bunched the fabric of his shirt in her hands and worked it up until she was touching his bare skin. She stroked his back, occasionally scraping lightly with her fingernails. His hands were in her hair, cradling her head as his kiss grew more demanding.
She wanted to be naked. She wantedhimto be naked. Breaking off the kiss, Zoe backed away enough to pull her shirt off and toss it before going to work on his buttons. His skin was as flushed as hers felt, and as she slid the shirt off his shoulders so she could run her hands over his bare chest, he groaned.
“You should show me your bedroom,” she told him, impatient to lose the clothes. “I have a betting pool in my head on what shade of gray your comforter is.”
Laughing, he took her hand and with their fingers loosely intertwined, walked to his bedroom. “You’re going to lose.”
“You don’t know which shade I bet on.”
