Christine Pacheco - A Husband In Her Stocking

Even in sleep, he didn’t look innocent, not at all. In fact, he still appeared darkly dangerous.

She swallowed. Aware of acting like a voyeur, she consciously averted her gaze and directed the beam of light at the floor as she continued past him, Snowflake on her heels.

In the kitchen, she lit a lantern, filling the room with a soft glow, and momentarily banishing the blizzard’s fury.

As she turned on the tap and filled the kettle, Meghan released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Glad, for once, of the ancient gas stove that didn’t need electricity, she found matches and lit the burner.

In the silence of the storm, Meghan reached for the clay angel sitting on the counter and traced her fingers across the wings she’d painstakingly sculpted.

This angel, Lexie, was her favorite, named after the grandmother who’d died before she was born. It was one of Meghan’s first-ever attempts at sculpting, yet the one angel she’d been unable to part with. “Well, Lexie, what are we going to do?”

Lexie maintained her perpetually serene smile, offering Meghan some comfort. She replaced the figurine. As the kettle began to hiss, she switched off the gas.

Snowflake plopped down near his bowl, and Meghan carried her cup and tea bag to the table and stirred in a single spoon of sugar.

“Is there tea for two?”

Her spoon clattered to the table. She looked up.

Kyle lazed against the doorjamb, wearing an unbuttoned shirt, tight jeans...and a tempting-as-sin smile.

And the problem was, Meghan realized as her insides constricted into a hyper-aware knot, she was tempted.

Heaven help her, she was tempted.

Three

“Do you see them?” The newer angel’s words were breathless, woven on puffs of air coming from a divinely distant realm.

Lexie smiled as another blip of pure-pink energy zapped past her. “It’s a good sign,” the older angel agreed, folding in her right wing gracefully when another burst of sensually radiant energy sailed by.

“I’m so glad we were able to squeeze so much snow from the clouds.” Grandma Aggie’s eyes opened wide and she looked over her shoulder, as if fearing repercussions from the admission. She twisted her hands together, then she sighed. “Oh, Lexie, do you suppose our reprimand wilt be terrible?”

Lexie smiled serenely, no stranger to breaking the rules. Where Meghan was concerned, Lexie often followed her heart rather than her head. She simply couldn’t bear to watch her darling granddaughter suffer. And now with a co-conspirator... well, Archangel Michael had said it best, himself...trouble had doubled since Aggie’s arrival several years ago, when the two had become fast celestial friends. It hadn’t been long before their individual goals for Meghan and Kyle had become a mutual plan. “I’m sure we’ll have some answering to do.”

Another strand of Grandma Aggie’s hair, black as the coal Santa would leave for some, turned gray.

“But it’s Christmas, and the others are distracted making wishes come true,” Lexie added. “And that’s all we’re doing. Trying to make wishes come true.”

“But neither of them wished for each other.”

“That’s simply beside the point,” Lexie said, sending a mental message of peace to her partner in crime—or in this case, romance.

“They’ll realize soon enough they wished for each other,” Lexie continued, then added her silent hope that her promise would prove true. “If we’re very lucky, Meghan will believe in Christmas again. Then we’ll be rewarded with wings of gold, instead of being chastised.” She straightened the halo that had, oddly enough, tipped to one side.

“Oh, dear me, do look!” Aggie pointed to Meghan.

A flush had stolen over Meghan’s face, and her breathing pattern had changed, becoming more shallow by the moment.

Kyle, Aggie’s grandson, took a step into the kitchen.

“He is handsome,” Lexie approved, holding her hands near her heart and feeling the soothing balm of heat.

“Not only that, but he’s a good person inside,” Aggie added loyally.

The sensual chemistry between the two humans wavered in the air, sending shock waves of vibrancy into the atmosphere.

Kyle’s jeans rode low on his hips as he took another step, skittering tension everywhere.

“My...my goodness,” Aggie breathed.

“I guess the rest is up to them.” Lexie spread her wings wide, enveloping the newer arrival in the protective folds. “Er...it’s not polite to peek when things like this start to...” She searched for the right word, cleared her throat. “Percolate.”

“Oh. Oh, my.”

Lexie cracked her gum, ignoring the gentle waves of chastisement buffeting her from above. “Now to think of a suitable excuse so our silver wings don’t get taken away. Puppy duty is entirely too much work....”

Kyle took a second, then third, and finally a fourth step into the kitchen, and Meghan slumped in her chair.

There was something about him, something so real and powerful that made rational thought impossible.

She picked up her cup, holding it with a shaky hand, well aware of Kyle’s intense perusal. Fingers slightly unsteady, she raised her tea to take a deep drink, only to succeed in scalding her tongue.

Kyle took a seat across from her. The sight of his half-naked body was a visual feast. His chest seemed broader this close, and her mind noted each detail of his muscular build. Well-developed biceps spoke of strength, making her wonder what it might feel like to be cradled, protected.

The scattering of dark hair made her fingers tingle in anticipation. The way denim conformed to his muscles induced thoughts she hadn’t known she was capable of.

Meghan hadn’t ever had a lewd thought.

Until now.

Even though the power had failed, electricity all but hummed around them.

He reached for the teakettle and grabbed a mug from the cup tree on the table. His hand stilled, and he glanced around. “Did you hear something?”

Meghan heard precious little above the rush of blood humming through her veins.

“A rustling, like feathers?”

She shook her head.

With a shrug, he said, “Must be hearing things.” Then he placed the mug on the table. “How do you do this?”

“Do what?” The words emerged weak and broken. Breathing took an act of incredible concentration.

“Make tea.” He grinned. “I haven’t done it before.”

Her breath expelled in a heartbeat.

“Which do I put in first, the water or the bag?”

She’d never imagined that mundane conversation could require so much effort. Then again, this was a first for her. “Tea bag first.”

“Gotcha.”

He followed her instructions, then started to squeeze the excess tea from the bag.

“Don’t.” She automatically reached across the table to stop his motion, placing her hand on top of his.

He dropped the tea bag.

The warmth of human touch stole into her.

She gulped, commanding her brain to move her hand away.

She couldn’t.

Then Kyle sealed her hand within his. And suddenly, all oxygen vanished from the room.

Her skin was warm and soothed, her heart fast and furious. Her mouth was dry while her insides moistened with recognized need.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the unwelcome feeling. She didn’t want, didn’t need anyone. Especially Kyle Murdock.

But their gazes locked, and urgency in his eyes communicated to her.

Imminent danger cloaked her, and she needed to escape. With more resolution than she actually felt, she pulled her hand free.

She blinked, telling herself she’d imagined the sensory assault.

But her hand trembled.

She hadn’t imagined it. It was there, and real as anything she’d ever experienced. Looking skyward, she offered a silent plea for help. Her emotions were tangled around and within her physical response, and she didn’t know what to do, how to act. The snow needed to end—now. The roads needed to be clear by dawn.