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God, she was getting misty again. What the heck was going on with her hormones?
She blinked rapidly and smiled. “It doesn’t sound tinny.”
“No. Took some doing to find one that didn’t in a shop that was still open on Christmas Eve. I got lucky.” He touched her cheek and made her look at him. “You don’t like it.”
“You’re right, I don’t like it—I love it.” She grinned and kissed his scruffy jaw. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Maybe it was the way his eyes twinkled or the lateness of the hour, but an explanation tumbled forth before she thought to stop it. “My dad used to buy them for me. He gave me one every Christmas.”
“I didn’t see them in your room.”
She glanced down at the skater, still moving in methodical circles. “They’re in boxes, packed away. I haven’t been able to stand looking at them for so long.”
“If this is too painful for you—”
“No. No,” she repeated, rising. “In fact, I want to show you one of the others he gave me. I think you’d like it.”
He accepted the hand she extended and stood beside her. “Show me.”
They ended up looking at all ten of her music boxes. He didn’t seem bored by the accompanying stories and even helped her dust each one off and clear a bookshelf to display them. It was awfully crowded, but at least they weren’t in boxes anymore.
No matter what happened between them, she had him to thank for that.
Just before three, they crawled into her bed and took their sweet time tearing up the sheets she’d neatly remade. With her body warm from his, she dropped deeply into sleep, smiling at the weight of his arm on her belly.
The sound of knocking jerked Wendy up on her elbows. Another knock, louder this time. Blearily, she swung her head around to search for the source.
Shit. Fuck. Damn. Someone was out in the hall.
She snatched the sheet and held it over her bare breasts as she shot a glance at Des, who was happily sawing them off.
“Hang on,” she called out, scrambling up so fast that she caught her foot in the comforter on her way to the cold hardwood floor. “One more minute.”
Too late. The door was already opening.
Just as she glimpsed her mom and aunt’s shocked expressions, she realized that her graceless tumble off the bed had bared her lover’s impressive morning wood for all to see.
“Merry Christmas,” she muttered.
Eight
To her mom’s credit, she didn’t freak out at finding a strange man in her supposedly single daughter’s bed. Aunt Gert was a harder sell, wailing about violating the sanctity of marriage and such, but her mom got her settled down and out of the house before she shattered any windows with her screeching protests.
Then it was just Mrs. Stanton, Wendy, and Des—who’d yet to stop grinning despite being ogled by two senior citizens before breakfast.
And his secretary. His secretary had definitely done her share of ogling too.
Since her mom was feeling good, she made them a breakfast of whole wheat waffles and turkey sausage. Discovering Des was a vegan made her mom’s eyes glint. The one thing she’d disliked about Wendy’s dad was his refusal to give up hunting. Des’s love of animals definitely erased any lingering effects from finding him naked in Wendy’s bed, though once she’d learned who he was she hadn’t been too upset. She knew how Wendy felt about him.
Hell, from the way she was glowing that morning, the mailman could’ve figured it out.
“Wendy never stops talking about you,” Mrs. Stanton said, ignoring Wendy’s plaintive groan. “You’re every bit as handsome as she said.”
Des continued sipping his coffee. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by that morning’s events. “Your daughter’s too kind.”
“Not too kind. Wendy’s just grateful as all get out for everything you’ve done for us. She’s downright effusive about you. You’ve changed our lives for the better, son. Sweet Mary, you even brought us a beautiful little tree.” She shocked the hell out of Wendy by getting up to kiss Des flush on the mouth. “Thank you so much.”
