“J-John,” she stammered. “Thank goodness you’re here. We’ve been locked in here for hours.”
“We?” John asked.
Katie looked to the corner of the room where a pile of blankets were as disheveled as Caroline. Randy stood on them, tucking in his shirt. “Mornin’, Katie,” he said, minus his wink.
Katie took a deep breath, surprised to find herself more relieved than angry. At least now she didn’t have to marry him. “Have you seen Julia?” she asked, as though finding her fiancé with another woman was an everyday occurrence.
“No,” he answered, glancing at Caroline.
“I haven’t seen her either,” Caroline answered.
John nodded his head, then directed Katie back into the store before he closed the door behind him and removed the knob.
“They’ll be locked in again,” Katie said.
John shrugged. “They can thank us later.”
The front door jingled and Frank stepped inside. “Mercy,” he said, shaking the snow from his hat. “It’s a fierce storm out there.”
“Have you seen Julia?” Katie asked, ignoring the thumping on the storeroom door.
Frank ignored it too. “I seen her just a little bit ago
heading to your house, Doc. She said she was going home for lunch.”
“Thank heavens,” John murmured, grabbing Katie’s hand to leave Frank’s. “You might want to let them out in another hour or two,” he said over his shoulder as he led Katie back into the storm.
By the time they reached his house, her teeth were chattering.
“Julia?” John yelled. “Mrs. Adkins?”
No one answered. The house was silent except for the music coming from the gramophone in the parlor. Katie followed John into the room, surprised to find no one gathered around the blazing fire, or listening to the beautiful waltz.
The puzzled expression on his face matched her feelings exactly. Then the door closed behind them, the following
click
indicating it was now locked.
“Julia’s fine,” Grandma said through the door.
“Hi, Daddy. Hi, Katie,” Julia said, to prove Grandma wasn’t lying.
“Now,” Grandma said, “you two might as well get comfortable ’cause you ain’t getting out of there until you sort this mess and quit making everybody else miserable. In the meantime, we’re all going to Frank’s for eggnog and cookies.”
Noises of shuffling, stamping feet, and murmuring voices followed.
“How many of them are out there anyway?” John’s question brought a smile to Katie’s lips.
“Sounds like the whole town.” She turned to look at him, and his mouth suddenly went dry.
Lashes glistening from melted snowflakes, her cheeks flushed from the bite of the cold, she was the only woman he knew who could be more beautiful every time he laid eyes on her.
“Would you like to warm up by the fire?” It wasn’t what he really wanted to ask, but it was a start.
She nodded, unbuttoning her damp coat as she crossed the room to the hearth. He followed closely behind, depositing his coat with hers on a chair. They stood in front of the flames, warming icy hands and staring ahead silently until he finally asked, “Now what do we do?”
Her dimple sank into her cheek with her grin, and a modicum of relief drifted over him. Maybe she no longer hated him.
“I’m not marrying Randy.”
“You sure as hell aren’t.”
Turning toward him, a brow lifted with an unspoken challenge, she said, “What makes you think you have the right to say whom I marry?”
“Because I love you.”
Katie’s mouth dropped and as much as he wanted to kiss it, he didn’t. There were things that needed to be said, and it was well past the time to say them.
“What about Lois’s wish?” she asked.
He took her hands in his and lifted them to his lips before pulling off his wedding ring and laying it on a table. “Lois would have wanted what’s best for Julia. And I’m sure if she’d had a chance to know you, she would have realized what a wonderful mother you’d be. I think Caroline might have seen it too if she hadn’t been so blinded by her own ambitions.” He pulled Katie
into his arms. “She came here to marry me, and she wasn’t expecting to find you in my life.” Brushing a curl from the side of her face, he said, “Then again, neither was I.”
He cupped her face. “I love you, Katie. I never thought I would ever love again, but I was wrong. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things. And I’d like to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please forgive me and tell me that you’ll become my wife.” He paused when she didn’t answer, then added, “You do love me, don’t you?”
She smiled, the twinkle returning to her eyes, the blood returning to his veins. “You know,” she said, “my list didn’t require that I be in love with my husband.”
It wasn’t like Katie to be coquettish, but the sly upturn of her lips and her lash-lowered gaze made his heart swell. She loved him. She hadn’t said it yet, but he knew it without a doubt. Everything was going to be all right after all.
He pulled her closer to him, nuzzling her hair with his mouth. She smelled good. She felt good, and he was sinking fast. Her closeness warmed him, chasing away a chill that had nothing to do with snow. He felt her hands glide up his arms until her fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck and a tingle ran down his spine.
Pressing his cheek against her temple, he said, “There wasn’t anything about loving your husband, but I specifically remember a kissing requirement.” He moved his lips across her brow. She quivered and turned her face up toward him. And that was all the permission he needed.
“Katie,” he whispered, claiming her mouth in a kiss that had tormented him for weeks.
Soft and sweet, he lost himself in the fullness of her lips and the warmth of her soul. Her tongue darted to meet his, and the waltz was replaced with music of their own making, its dance more primitive and much more enticing.
The heat of her body warmed his hands as he ran his fingers across her back and down to her hips. Seeking her flesh through the layers of gown and petticoats, he fought the desire to rip the fabrics from her body and take her on the floor. But he was determined not to overwhelm her again. This time, there would be no lovemaking unless she wanted it as badly as he did…if that was possible.
With more willpower than he realized he possessed, he pulled his mouth from hers long enough to whisper, “Do you love me, Katie?”
She looked up at him, eyes drunk with passion, breath ragged in her breasts. “Yes,” she answered.
“Do you want me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Taking a step back from her, he released his grip, lowering his hands to his side. “Then take me.”
The passion in her eyes changed quickly to confusion, and then a slow understanding filled their depths. The corner of her mouth lifted, and it was all he could do not to grab her again. But he stood at her mercy, praying she had none.
She placed her hands against his chest, sliding them up his shirtfront until she could slip his jacket from his
shoulders. It fell to the floor, unneeded and forgotten. Next came his shirt. Button by button, she opened the front, stopping halfway down to press a kiss against his chest, followed by a flick of her tongue. He balled his fists at his sides, forcing himself to remain still, but the twinkle in her eyes told him he was in trouble.
She finished with the buttons, then proceeded to pull the shirttail from his waistband, walking behind him as she did. With a gentle tug, she dragged his shirt from his body to join the jacket on the floor. He couldn’t see her, but he felt her breath as she placed tender kisses on his back, her hands slipping around his waist to caress his belly above his trousers.
Torture.
Sublime, tantalizing, exquisite torture.
He closed his eyes, languishing in the feel of her hands as she stroked his belly and chest, her cheek pressed against his back. Then she pulled away. He waited, trusting she wasn’t finished, and the sound of her dress falling to the floor behind him, rewarded him for his trust.
Katie scooted the pile of clothing away from their feet, still unable to believe she had the courage to undress a man. But it wasn’t just any man. It was John, and she loved him more than she’d thought was humanly possible.
Slowly, she walked around in front of him, clad only in her chemise and white, woolen stockings. Her breasts puckered by the slight chill in the room and the powerful heat of his gaze. The green of his eyes intensified as he studied her mouth, her throat, her breasts.
Not even attempting to hide his desire, he licked his lips, and she felt it low in her stomach.
She knew there was more and she wanted all of it, but they had waited a long time for this, and she intended to savor it slowly. Taking his hand, she led him to a chair and motioned for him to sit. She remembered the first time she’d seen him bared to the waist, a bee sting marring his shoulder. She’d wanted to touch him then but dared not.
Things had changed.
With brazen abandon, she walked around him, dragging her hands across his chest and shoulders, marveling at the firm, hard flesh, kneading the muscles beneath her fingertips. Then with even more daring, she slid her hands down his waist to brush them against the swollen bulge in his lap.
He gasped. “Are you trying to kill me?” His voice was raspy and pained.
She smiled. “Yes,” she whispered, next to his ear, ending with a kiss against his cheek.
He leaned his head back on the chair, closing his eyes with a groan. “Good.”
Something about the way he said “good” made a shiver tingle through her body. It purred and rumbled, promising all sorts of things she was eager to explore. Stepping around in front of him, she settled across his lap. She was fully aware of the way her chemise slid indecently up her thigh. She crossed her legs to add to the effect.
She gently touched the bruise on his cheek. “Does it hurt?”
His eyes smoldered. “Like hell.”
She leaned into him to place a kiss at the corner of his eye. “Is that better?”
His lips curved in a slow grin. “That’s not where it hurts,” he said, grabbing her hips and grinding her bottom into the bulge she’d teased earlier.
Catching her gasp with his kiss, he took the game out of her hands, and it was about time. Her chemise bunched up around her waist as he slid his hand beneath to clutch her breast. Molding, caressing, teasing, he lifted her with his hand as he kissed and nibbled down her throat.
But he didn’t stop there.
His lips dampened the fabric of her chemise as they sought and found the pebbled tip of her breast. Stopping only for a moment, he pulled the chemise over her head and returned to his treasure.
She felt the fire pooling in her as the sizzling sensations started by his tongue rolled through her body in pulses of heat. He must have felt her need, for his hand released its grasp of her breast and slid between her legs. Slowly he grazed the skin at the top of her stockings, tracing his fingers along the edge of the garters, brushing against the warmth of her thighs.
But he didn’t stop there.
As his mouth suckled her breasts, his fingers delved into the part of her that throbbed for his attention. Squirming, she moved impatiently against his hand. The anticipation built by the second, but before she could find relief, he set her off his lap and quickly unfastened his trousers.
She had just a moment to see the bulge she’d only felt. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back to his
lap, guiding himself into her as she faced him. The split second of embarrassment she felt for straddling him was replaced with primal need.
Hard and hot, he filled her. “Love me, Katie,” he ground out against her throat, his hands grabbing her hips and pulling her onto his body.
She did love him, but right now she needed him. She needed him to stop the torture and ease the throb. She needed him to return her to sanity and give her back control of her body.
“Love me, Katie,” he murmured again, and somewhere through the haze, she realized what he meant.
She started slowly. Rocking her hips, squeezing him inside her as she rocked. Each movement deeper and faster than the one before, she gained intensity, digging her fingers into his hair and jerking his head back for a crushing kiss.
Then she took.
She took from his mouth. She took from his body and just when she thought she’d scream from the madness, her body gave back all she had taken with an explosion of shudders.
Shaking and gasping, she clung to him as he did his own exploding, crying out her name as though calling for a lifeline.
She sat, clinging onto his neck, until the shudders stopped and the world settled back onto its axis.
Then embarrassment seeped in. Naked, sprawled across his lap, one stocking down about her ankles and half her hairpins on the floor, she realized there was no delicate way to extricate herself.
She attempted to move, but his arms tightened
around her waist, stopping her where she was. “You’re not going anywhere until we settle a few things,” he said, his mouth buried somewhere in the hair beside her neck.
She liked the feel of his breath against her skin. “Like what?”
“Reverend Stoker is waiting at the church to perform a wedding.”
She giggled. “Actually, he’s waiting for two weddings.”
“That doesn’t seem like a kind thing to do to a man on Christmas Eve.”
She wiggled a little, enjoying his quick intake of air. “Who do you think he should marry?”
Suddenly he stood, lifting her in his arms, where he turned and sat her in the chair. He knelt in front of her, stumbling slightly over the trousers still gathered around his ankles.
Placing a quick kiss on the one knee covered by her stocking, he raised her hand to his lips and said, “I love you, Katie Napier. Please end my torture by marrying me today.” He kissed the back of her hand.
She smiled. “I’ll marry you, but why does it have to be today?” Other than the fact that she couldn’t wait another moment either.
“I have no intention of letting you have your clothes until we’re married, and you might freeze to death in this weather.”
“Shouldn’t I have my clothes to go to the church?”
He frowned, pretending to ponder her question for a second before shrugging. “I suppose, but Reverend Stoker better talk fast.”