Carrie Alexander - A Town Called Christmas

Finally she conceded. Her eyes flickered and she moved a fraction toward him with her lips.

He took her mouth with certainty, pressing a firm kiss against her chilled lips. For one heartbeat, she hesitated. Then her mouth softened and warmed for him, became a sweet, welcoming haven.

Pleasure grew inside him like a cadence—slow and sure. He wasn’t keyed up the way he felt at the controls of his jet, soaring with adrenaline. Instead, kissing Merry was knowing himself in ways he’d neglected lately. It was feeling the solid earth beneath his soles while angels sang in his ears.

He deepened the kiss. Her body swayed into his. He dropped his hands to her waist, wanting to feel every inch of her against him. He reached into the warmth beneath her open coat, stroked his palms down her sides, framing the roundness of her belly as he looped his arms around her.

Ding . A bell went off in his head.

Plink . The penny dropped.

Click . Pieces came together.

He stepped back, needing to see what he’d somehow, incredibly, managed to miss up until now.

“Meredith.”

She looked straight at him, nodding a little.

“You’re pregnant.”

Her hands went to the bulge beneath her sweater. It was a small one, not so difficult for a distracted man to miss. Still, he felt like a half-blind Mr. Magoo, groping for soda-bottle glasses.

“Yes,” she said in such a smooth yet sharp-edged voice that his vision snapped back into crystal clarity. “I am pregnant. Expecting, as they say.” Her mouth flattened. “In a delicate condition.”

She might have warned him. Her, or Nicky, or—

Oh, hell . Mike stopped the excuses. He had only himself to blame for falling for her in the span of a single evening.

She had pulled her coat closed again and was standing rigid beneath the neon glow of the Christmas lights, her head held at an awkward angle as she studied him for a reaction.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He summoned up a reckless grin to deflect his sense of shock and, yes, disappointment. “Fool me twice.”

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