Kissa Under the Mistletoe (2 page)

“Oh, and madam.” Arthur’s voice stopped her progress. Turning, she cocked her head in a question to the handsome concierge. “Well done. If I were to choose someone to complement your dark beauty, Mr. Slate would most certainly be the one.”

***

Kissa dropped her bags in the small foyer area in her eagerness to explore the sumptuous room. A sitting area dotted with overstuffed couches upholstered in a sophisticated gold fabric. A bowl of flowers and a few magazines graced the coffee table along with a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses resting on a copy of
Great Expectations
. She warmed at the thought of Lucas’s big body curled up on the golden sofa, reading. The English professor waxing enthusiastic about how nothing surpassed a little Dickens on a cold night. Lucas could spend hours talking about the subtleties in Dickens. Secretly, she loved his passion for his work. Words excited him, and it excited her to see him keyed up. Of course, she teased him about it.

How long had he been in town before she’d arrived? He’d made himself at home in the suite. She tossed the key card next to the book, running a finger over the cover before walking toward the closed double doors in the far wall.

Turning the knob, she gave the doors a gentle push and stopped dead in her tracks. Creams and more gold covered the huge bed dominating the room. There had to be mistake. Surely Lucas didn’t plan for them to share one bed. The thought of the two them wrapped in those soft sheets, wrapped in each other’s arms filled Kissa’s mind.

Looking past the bed for now, she spied a large window—almost floor to ceiling—offering an amazing view of the Thames. Arthur was right in his assessment. The glittering lights of London reflected off the inky water. Even with the raindrops streaking the glass, the sight took her breath away.

A beautiful gray silk blouse and a black pencil skirt were spread across the foot of the bed. Fingering the collar, she absorbed the sensual feel of the fabric and resisted the urge to rub it across her cheek.
Dear Lucas
. But it was so elegant….

She extracted the letter Arthur had given her from her pocket and began to read, the sound of Lucas’s deep baritone in her head. The voice would give Benedict Cumberbatch a run for his money in the sexy department.

Kissa, I’ve stepped out to get a few special items for this evening. We are set to have dinner at my brother’s pub with the family, since Mum and Dad’s flat is so small, and the family is so large. I hope you don’t mind, but I picked up an early Christmas present for you to wear. The color will look amazing with your eyes. I think I’ve matched them almost to perfection. See you soon. And, please, wear the outfit. I’d hate to have to punish you. Love, Lucas
.

She furrowed her brow, not sure what to make of the last sentence. Punish her? Odd. This letter stepped beyond Lucas’s usual playful flirtation. Still, the classic pinup-girl style would flatter her rather curvy figure. Kissa checked her watch and calculated the time difference to Ohio. At four in the afternoon, at home, her sister Desari would be around for a chat. She needed a bit of sisterly advice on this one. Pulling her phone from her purse, she pushed Desari’s name and curled up on the couch in the sitting room, as the phone rang on her sister’s end.

“
Marhaba
,  sis. What’s up?” Kissa smiled at the sound of her sister’s voice. “How was the flight?” The faint sounds of Middle Eastern music played in the background.

“Good. Bumpy but it could have been worse. Are you at Cousin Omar’s?” Kissa couldn’t help but grin even more. Their cousin owned The Sultan’s Table Restaurant and Hookah lounge in Mansfield, a smaller town where her sister worked and lived. Desari danced weekends and nights. Kissa had no trouble driving the forty-five or so minutes from Columbus to have a plate of Omar’s food and dance with her sister.

“Yep, getting ready to dance. Everything okay? You sound odd.” Desari could always sense anything out of balance with the sisters by hearing their voices. Kissa took it as a triplet thing.

“It’s Lucas.”

“Is he hurt?” Desari’s voice went up an octave in obvious concern.

“No, nothing like that. It’s just….” How to describe the feeling she had about the situation, even to her sister.

Kissa glanced out the window toward the Thames.

“He’s different. He has us in this fancy hotel, like the ones we stayed in on Dad’s diplomatic missions.”

“That’s a bad thing?” Desari asked.

“For starters, we aren’t in his parents’ flat like we planned. Also, he bought me a new fancy outfit and left a note….” Kissa bit her lip, not sure she should share the contents of the letter. Taking a deep breath, she read the note to her sister, waited a moment to let it sink in, and asked, “What’s going on, Dara?”

“Look, maybe you should take this as a sign to lift your relationship with Lucas to the next level. See if he responds. London at Christmastime is magical. Let the city work some magic on you two and see where you stand when you come home. It worked for Kanin and I,” Desari said, her voice going sultry at the mention of her boyfriend.

“You two are different. Just because he was in love with you all those years and never said anything doesn’t mean Lucas is the same. Plus you danced for Kanin. All those silks and sexy drumbeats of Issam’s helped.” She laughed.

“So why don’t you dance for Lucas? You know the city like the back of your hand. Call in some favors with Ahmed. I think he still owns that restaurant over near Hyde Park. Take Lucas there for dinner one night during your stay and strut yourself. Trust me. Has he ever seen you dance?”

“No. He knows I am part of the troupe at Omar’s, but he’s never free the nights I’m there working.” Kissa nibbled her bottom lip, Desari’s suggestion rolling around in her head.

“Then do it. Now, get off this expensive call, find Ahmed’s number, and get yourself some sexy professor. You’ve been hot for teacher for years.”

“Okay. I’ll do it. Love you, sis.” Kissa chuckled.

“Love you, too. I want all the gossip, so call me later, and I’m totally calling Suhaila and telling her you’re plotting the naughty with Lucas. Oops, gotta go dance. Have fun,” Desari said in a rush before clicking off.

Kissa shook her head in amusement and tossed the phone on the table.
What the hell
? She scooped up the clothes before heading into the bathroom. A bubbly soak in the decadent tub and some pampering and she’d be ready to face him.

Lucas glided into the room he’d share with Kissa for the two weeks. If his carefully laid plans came to fruition on this trip, he’d get to keep her forever as his lover and wife. Shaking his head, he tossed the thoughts aside for a moment. Getting ahead of himself never served his purpose. First he’d seduce his girl with all the debauched treats planned, and then he’d make his move for the more lasting arrangement. Lucas had fallen in love with his dark-haired goddess the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but she never seemed to want more than friendship from him. In desperation, he’d come up with the idea to bring to her London for Christmas in the hopes of using the city and the season to finally tell her how he felt.

Going down to the Meyers and Meyers offices one sweltering July day two years ago for lunch with a friend had seemed like a chore until he’d seen the beautiful woman who stole his heart. Her thick, blue-black hair spilled around her face as she leaned over an open file-cabinet drawer. Her black pencil skirt rode up on her lush thighs and let her stockings play peekaboo. She’d straightened, and he’d caught sight of her face with its clear, quicksilver eyes and kissable mouth. She leveled him like a teenage boy with his first centerfold. Lucas trailed his gaze down her body and let the lust hit him. Her prim white blouse, cut in the pinup style of the 1940s, strained to contain the most amazing pair of breasts he’d ever seen. His friend had introduced them, and he’d discovered they had much in common. Too bad somewhere along the line, she’d relegated him to the friend zone, a place he sought to escape.

They’d spent many an evening on his couch, watching old movies, with Kissa wrapped in his arms, her head resting on his chest, and those amazing curves pressed against him. She understood him in ways no woman had before. She’d tell him about her workday, and he’d regale her with stories of his students—usually followed by her teasing him about them. Still, she’d never given him any indication she wanted to move beyond friendship. Except for last New Year’s Eve.

Lucas had brought Kissa as his date to a party, thrown by the English Department, in an effort to thwart the unwanted attentions of a new graduate student who’d developed of a crush on him. Kissa had willingly played the imaginary girlfriend for the night. However, after consuming a bit more to drink than normal, she’d cornered him in a dark room. Shoving him against a wall, she had proceeded to kiss him until she’d stolen his very breath away. In the morning, she’d claimed to remember nothing about the party. Lucas suspected she’d used the “amnesia” as a shield. He wanted his girl to admit to herself, and to him, that she wanted more than a few stolen kisses at a party.

After dropping the discreet black shopping bag containing his secret treats for later use onto the coffee table and knocking softly on the door, Lucas strode into the bedroom. Kissa stood in front of the window, back to him as she gazed out over the view and worked a brush through her long hair. The strands shimmered a rich ebony in the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand. He let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d held and drank in the arresting sight she presented.

The tight black pencil skirt, cut in the style she favored, cupped her curvy backside in a seductive fashion. He’d spent a small fortune on the perfect outfit for her, but he didn’t care one bit about the expense. His Kissa was worth it.

She tilted her head, exposing her neck, as she continued to work her fingers through the length of her hair. He’d taste her in more ways than one tonight. He must have groaned out loud because she turned with startled speed and dropped the brush to the carpet.

“It’s just me, chicken.” He tried to keep his voice light, even though he was certain some of his sexual hunger for her beautiful body still managed to come through. She stepped back a bit. The air sizzled between them. Licking his lips, he couldn’t wait to taste those pebbled nipples waiting underneath the silk. His cock felt heavy in his pants.

He needed to slow down. Needed to get himself under control. The two weeks in London were for wooing and seduction, not hot, nasty sex. Although he’d be more than happy with some heat and fire as well. He wanted more, and he’d rein in his lust to prove it to her. He didn’t want to scare her off before he could give her the ring secreted away in his bags. Kissa needed convincing, and Lucas was not above using the magic of London at Christmastime and every sensual trick in his arsenal to get her.

“Hi,” she said quietly, sliding her palms over the front of her skirt. “The outfit is really beautiful, Lucas. Thanks.”

“I thought you’d enjoy a little something pretty for your first night in London. You look smashing. Merry Christmas.” He watched her lick her lips, painted a deep red, and bit back a groan. Taking a few more steps into the room, he leaned down and brushed a light kiss against her cheek. The exotic floral scent of her perfume instantly teased his senses.

“So, this hotel room…?” She let the rest of the question linger in the air.

“Mum’s was full because my sister and her husband and their kids came down from Lancastershire. We needed a place to stay, so here we are.” The excuse sounded lame to his own ears. She raised a brow at him in amusement.

“And the only room you could get is in a five star hotel with a single king-sized bed overlooking the Thames?” Those gorgeous red lips beckoned to him.

“Well, I figured since you hadn’t been home in a good long while, I would splurge and give us the best. I can sleep on the couch.”

She took a step away from the window and moved closer to him. Placing a hand on his chest, she looked up into his face, her eyes dancing with amusement. Lucas lost his composure as he drank in her features. “I’m sure we’ll work something out.”

She continued into the other room. He took a steading breath before following her out. The flirtatious way she made the comment gave him ideas. Rarely had Kissa acted like she was tonight.

“Come.” He held out his arm and grinned. “We need to meet my family at Martin’s pub, and we shouldn’t be late.”

The Duke’s Head was just what Kissa remembered a true English pub to be. Dark wood furnishings and rows upon rows of beer bottles lining the walls added to the ambience. Christmas twinkle lights decked the woodwork above the bar, and carols spilled forth from the sound system in the back. Lucas’s older brother, Martin, had closed the pub to the general public for the night, ensuring a private affair. Scattered around the interior, Lucas’s family ate, drank, and laughed. Sarah, his younger sister, was a gorgeous English rose with silvery blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes. Her husband, a handsome Scot by the name of Gerry, seemed to fill the space with his massive presence. Their three kids ran around playing darts and shooting pool in the back with Martin’s two teenage children. Topping off the menagerie Lucas called family was his younger brother, the baby of the group, Michael, a sweet twenty-five-year-old with a winning grin and an awkward way about him. Kissa wanted to hug him into a million pieces when he’d blushed every time she looked his way. Lucas clapped him on the shoulder with brotherly affection.

She nursed the Black and Tan sitting in front of her on the long bar, not wanting to lose her wits around Lucas’s family. She’d rather die than embarrass him. Lucas laughed at something his mother said. With the same piercing blue eyes as Lucas, the woman was petite beside her hulking sons and husband. He met her gaze and grinned.

“That all you’re drinking, love?” An arm went around her shoulders, and she turned to look up into the face of Lucas’s father, John. Kissa recognized instantly where Lucas received his dark hair, kissable lips, and glorious towering height. He was the spitting image, except for the salt-and-pepper hair and the lines that crinkled around the older man’s eyes. Kissa could easily see Lucas in his later years when she looked at his father.