Lindsay McKenna - A Proposal for Christmas

Holly sighed. Who was she kidding? She put the foil packages back into the freezer and took out the special beef stroganoff she’d been saving in case Skyler’s parents decided to come to Spokane on one of their infrequent visits.

After straightening the kitchen and throwing together a green salad, she raced upstairs to take a shower and exchange her jeans and madras shirt for something more—more what? Sexy?

Still dripping from her shower, wrapped only in a bright pink bath sheet, Holly shoved the white cashmere suit back into the closet. It was too clingy, that was all. Entirely too clingy.

She brought out a flowing blue dress, interwoven with tiny silver threads, that she’d picked up in Iran only the month before. Even then she’d had no idea where she would wear such a thing, but she hadn’t been able to resist the gown’s quiet elegance.

She returned that garment to the closet, too. After all, it had that deep neckline and it was too formal. Whatever she chose would have to do for the cooking class she had to teach after dinner, she reminded herself.

Finally, Holly settled for tailored black slacks and a soft mulberry sweater. Not exactly suited to making Belgian fruitcake, she thought, but at least she would look halfway decent when David arrived and she could always push up the sleeves later, when it was time to conduct her class.

Hurriedly, she brushed her hair, applied her makeup and brushed her hair again. She allowed herself one cool misting of the expensive perfume she’d once bought on a dash through the Paris airport.

When the rites of womanhood had all been performed, she stood back from the mirror to look at herself. Her lipstick was crooked, and she wiped it off and reapplied it, this time using a lip liner. “Color inside the lines, now,” she mocked herself.

David arrived promptly at seven o’clock, just as they’d agreed. Not a moment before and not a moment after. Something about this small precision bothered Holly, but she pushed the feeling aside.

There was a fire crackling in the living room fireplace and the table in the rarely used dining room had been set with pretty china and her grandmother’s silver. David looked impossibly handsome in his gray slacks, creamy white sweater, and navy blue jacket. No indeed, this was no time for silly doubts.

“Come in,” she said, stepping back.

David smiled, but the look in his eyes was weary. Perhaps he’d had a hard day at law school. He extended a bottle of wine and then took off his coat. “Where’s Toby?” he asked, and the expression in his indigo-blue eyes was suddenly expectant.

Holly was a bit embarrassed. Now she was going to have to say that Toby was spending the evening at Elaine and Roy’s, and it would look as though she’d been setting the scene for a steamy seduction. Why, oh, why had she lighted the fire and set the table so carefully? “He had a previous engagement,” she said.

“Good,” David replied smoothly.

“Good?” Holly echoed, confused.

David laughed. “A man’s got to have a social life,” he answered, and Holly remained off-balance because she didn’t know whether he meant that Toby needed a social life or he did.

They ate in the dining room, with the candles lit—Holly had been too shy to light them, so David had done it—with the wine and the good china and the glint of the aged silver flatware. Holly hadn’t entertained a man in this particular way in as long as she could remember, and she was uncomfortable and distracted, not knowing what to do or how to act. The fact that she silently flogged herself for being silly didn’t help; she still felt like a fifteen-year-old about to go to her first prom.

“Do we have time to sit by the fire for a while,” David asked easily, setting his wineglass aside, “or are we off to tackle the mysteries of Belgian rum sauce?”

Holly laughed, even though the thought of sitting in front of a romantic winter fire with a man—with this man—patently made her nervous. “We have a few minutes.”

He stood up, but instead of coming around to pull back Holly’s chair, as Skyler would have done, he started gathering up dirty dishes. Holly was disappointed for a moment, but then she decided that one act was as considerate as the other and began to help.

Holly waited, every nerve screaming, for him to kiss her. He didn’t do it while they were clearing the table, of course, and in the kitchen he kept the dishwasher door between them as they put the china and silverware inside. Was he shy or something?

Holly’s cheeks stung with color. Elaine was right, she castigated herself angrily, you’re hot and bothered!

Once the dishwasher was churning away, David caught Holly’s hand casually in his and led her back to the living room as though it were his house. As though they had all the time in the world.

“Maybe we shouldn’t—” she sputtered, lifting his hand so that she could peer at the watch on her own wrist. “It’s getting late—”

David sat down on one of the soft Indian pillows facing the fireplace and pulled Holly after him. She tumbled against him, and her heart lurched into her throat at even that small contact, driving the breath out of her lungs and causing a curious ringing sound in her ears.

She settled herself primly on the other pillow, careful not to look at him. She knew that she would see the familiar, quiet amusement shining in his navy blue eyes.

“Holly.”

She swallowed, knotting her hands together in her lap. “What?”

“Look at me.”

She looked at him because doing otherwise would have been foolish and petulant. Even infantile. “So, I’m looking already,” she said.

He laughed and that was at variance with the look in his eyes which, instead of humor, betrayed a reluctance of some kind. A hurtful reluctance.

Holly was stung. David wanted to resist her as badly as she wanted to resist him! Wasn’t she attractive? Did he find her— David bent his head and kissed her, and an almost inaudible groan rumbled up through his chest and brushed against her lips. He was only nibbling at her mouth, tasting it as though it were a delicacy to be savored. He muttered something, and to a dazed Holly, it sounded as though he’d said, “Why?”

She couldn’t think of that now. She couldn’t think of anything except the havoc that reluctant kiss was causing inside her. She shivered and placed her hands on his strong shoulders, where they moved of their own accord to caress his neck.

He kissed her in earnest then, his tongue exploring the sweet depths of her mouth, enlisting her own to respond in quick, fevered parries. His hand moving gently up and down the length of her thigh caused the flesh hidden beneath to quiver.

Holly wanted to die and she wanted to live forever. She wanted to stop and she drew him nearer, allowing him to shift her body and his own so that they were both prone before the crackling fire.

His hand left her thigh to move up over her hip, underneath her soft mulberry sweater, over the flesh at her waist, over her rib cage. He freed her from his sorcerer’s kiss to nibble gently, provocatively, at her earlobe and her neck.

“I want you, Holly,” he said in that forthright way of his, his voice a gruff caress against the base of her neck.

Holly shivered, even though there was a heat pulsing inside her that made her long to fling off her clothes. “David, I...we...”

“I know,” he chuckled, and his hand had found the catch at the front of her bra. There was a feeling of sweet, wanton freedom as her breasts were released, and then his fingers were soothing her, searching out a nipple that already awaited them at strictest attention. “Tell me to stop.”

If Holly hadn’t been so bedazzled, she would have slapped him. “I can’t...” she admitted, her words falling away to a groan as he found that arching nipple and rolled it gently between his fingers.