Wicked Christmas Nights: It Happened One Christmas

The day we met. He didn’t say the words, but he suspected she saw them in his face.

“Look, Ross, I swear, I am not holding a grudge,” she said. “So you don’t have to go out of your way to try to make up with me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I just…I’ve missed you. A lot.”

“How can you miss someone you knew for only a weekend, years ago?”

“Are you telling me you don’t feel the same way?”

If she said she didn’t, he’d make himself believe her. He’d let her go. Chalk this up to one of those life lessons where a memory of a time you’d considered perfect turned out to be something less than that to the one you’d shared it with.

Lucy didn’t respond at first. Not wanting her to breeze over this, to reply without thought, Ross lifted a hand. A few strands of her silky, dark hair had fallen against her face. He slid his fingers through it, sending heat all the way up his arm. Her eyes drifted closed, the long lashes stark against her pale skin. And he’d swear she curled her face into his hand for an instant.

Ross groaned, as helpless to resist her now as he’d been that first day, in the elevator. Ignoring the surprised stare of the guard, who was the only other person in the lobby, he bent to Lucy and brushed his lips against hers, softly, demanding nothing more than a chance.

She hesitated for the briefest moment, then melted against him. This time there was no crumpled box separating their bodies; he was thrilled to discover she still fit against him as perfectly as ever. Her soft curves welcomed his harder angles, her feet parting a little as she brushed her legs against his and arched into him.

Sweetness flared into desire, just like it had the first time they’d kissed. Ross dropped his hands to her hips and held her close. Sweeping his tongue into her mouth, he dared her to go further. She, of course, took the dare, accepting what he offered and upping the ante by lifting her arms to encircle his neck. Their tongues thrust together, hot and languorous and deep, leaving Ross to wonder how he’d ever even imagined kissing any other woman had been as good as kissing this one. Everything about her was as intoxicating to him as it had been then. Maybe more so—because Lucy was no longer the sweet-faced co-ed. She was now every inch a woman. And he’d had the intense privilege of making her that woman.

Maybe that’s what made this kiss different from their first one. Then, there’d been curiosity and wonder, riding on a wave of pure attraction.

Now they knew what they could be to each other. Knew the pleasure they were capable of creating together. Knew what it was like to be naked and hot and joined together as sanity retreated and hunger took over every waking thought. And many sleeping ones.

She lifted her leg slightly, twining it around his, and Ross echoed the tiny groan she made when she arched harder against him. There was no way she couldn’t feel his rock-hard erection, any more than he could miss the heat between the thighs that instinctively cradled him.

Six years fell away, along with time, place and any concerns about an audience. There was just this, just the two of them, exploring something that had been missing from their lives for far too long.

Though he felt lost to everything else in the world except Lucy, Ross did finally become aware of a throat-clearing—Chip?—followed by a dinging sound that indicated the arrival of the elevator. A swoosh of the door was followed by a dull roar of laughing voices; the last few partiers…i.e., his employers, were about to make their way home.

He and Lucy quickly ended the kiss and stepped apart. “Déjà vu all over again,” he muttered. Only this time, they’d been caught on the outside of the elevator.

She actually laughed a little, that sweet, warm laugh that was so distinctly hers. Over the past several years, he’d listened for that sound, always expecting to somehow hear it again, even though he’d never really let himself believe he would.

“Hopefully we’re not going to hear some old lady say the guy on six is a fart-weasel.”

“Hey, my office is on six,” he said with a chuckle, pleased to realize Lucy remembered as much about that day as he did.

A group exited the elevator. “Have a happy holiday!” said one of his workers, who walked with his pregnant wife.

Ross nodded at the couple, and at the three others who’d come down with them. “Same to you. Be careful out there—it’s supposed to be a bad one.”

Murmuring their goodbyes, the group headed for the exit. They were escorted by Chip, who turned a key to operate the intricate, electronic locks that turned this place into a fortress. With the offices closed to the public today, Chip had been kept on his toes playing doorman, letting employees in for the party, and, now that it was over, back out.

Fortunately the guard never complained. Not even about the fact that he had to work all night, during an impending blizzard, right before Christmas Eve. They might not have state secrets to be stolen, but some of their competitors would risk a lot for the chance to get at prebid documents. With millions of dollars in high-end construction projects at stake, corporate espionage had never been more of a danger. Plus, Elite had invested a hell of a lot of money in computers and equipment. Keeping security on-site 24/7 was one place where Ross had stood firm against his penny-pinching father, who loved to keep a hand in the business even though he was technically retired.

“Wait, I’m leaving, too,” Lucy said as Chip began to relock the doors.

“Lucy…”

She held up a hand and brushed past him. “Please, Ross, I really need to go.”

Hell, she sounded more determined to leave than she had before he’d kissed her. Not that he regretted it. Not one bit.

Chip glanced toward Ross, as if asking what Ross wanted him to do. He nodded once. He couldn’t keep Lucy here against her will. Nothing had changed; he’d taken his shot, and he’d lost.

But just for now.

Definitely. They’d been caught off guard, taken completely by surprise when they’d bumped into one another today. Now, though, he knew Lucy was living in Chicago. There was no longer any geographic reason for him to bow out. Nor was he young enough—angry and resentful enough—to let outside situations and demands make him walk away from her for a second time.

It was as if she’d been delivered back into his life, like the best kind of Christmas gift. The one you never expected, didn’t realize you needed, but, when you tore off the paper, suddenly understood that it was exactly what you’d been waiting for.

No, he wasn’t about to let her get away again, but he knew the old saying about picking your battles. Lucy had her guard up, she was uncomfortable here on his turf and hadn’t had a moment to evaluate what all this meant to her. So he’d give her a few days to figure things out, then try again. And the next time he asked her to hear him out, he would not take no for an answer.

“Goodbye, Ross,” she said, not even turning around to face him. Her voice was soft, low, and he suspected she was trying desperately not to reveal her emotions.

He had to let her go. Had to trust that was the right thing to do in order to get her back.

“Goodbye,” he replied. “And Lucy?”

She hesitated, then glanced back at him over her shoulder.

“Merry Christmas.”

A brief hesitation, then a tiny smile widened her perfect lips. “Bah humbug.”

And then she disappeared out into the gray twilight.

IT USUALLY TOOK twenty minutes to get to the nearest branch of her bank. But today, Lucy was dealing with Friday evening, holiday weekend, impending-blizzard traffic. So she didn’t reach the drive-thru until right before they closed at seven.

Thick flecks of white started to appear on the windshield of her Jeep as she waited in the long line of cars. New York got the white stuff by the foot, but here, the Snow Miser seemed to delight in sending wicked, bone-chilling winds along with his icy droppings. The flakes weren’t the sweet, delicate ones that gently kissed your bare face. These were big, sloppy and wet, landing like punches, instead.

Once she’d made her deposit, Lucy headed right home. Luckily she had believed the weatherman’s warnings and gone shopping yesterday. Having stocked up on chocolate, Diet Coke, and DVDs, she looked forward to a weekend inside, chomping on junk food, watching disaster movies, and shopping online.

Her trip home was difficult, even though the Jeep had 4-wheel drive. Her main concern was seeing through the swirling blanket of white in front of the windshield. Chicago was usually a bright city, even at night; yet this kind of snowstorm didn’t reflect the light the way some did. It instead sucked it in, making streetlights hard to see.

It took almost two hours. By the time she arrived at her apartment building, she was not only cold and tired, she was actually jumpy from having been so on-alert.

Once inside her place, she wrenched off her coat and headed for the bathroom. A hot bath sounded like the perfect way to de-stress. She promised herself that, once in that bath, she would not spend one minute thinking about Ross. Or about that kiss.

Why did you have to go and kiss him back?

Probably because she’d been curious, wondering if her memories had been faulty. Could their brief relationship really have been as intense as she’d told herself it was? Had every other man she’d been with really paled in comparison, or was it wishful imaginings of the one that got away?

That kiss had answered all her questions: she hadn’t imagined a damn thing.

“Stop thinking about it,” she ordered herself as she got into the tub. the hot water stung her skin at first, but she welcomed the sensation, welcomed anything that would take her mind off the man she’d been kissing just a couple of hours ago.

It didn’t work. Ross became more prominent in her thoughts. Not just the Ross of today, but the one she’d known before. The guy with whom she’d been so incredibly intimate.