Kissing Under the Mistletoe (22 page)

“Regan, I didn’t expect to see you today,” Isabel said, her welcome as plastic as her family’s corks. “What a small world. Oh, wait, is this about the Costume Committee?”

Isabel knew exactly what she was doing there. Knew exactly who was buying her mom’s hand-me-downs, and the way she kept her face pleasantly devoid of any real emotion told Regan that she’d not only come on purpose to witness the groveling, but now she wanted Regan to voice it. In front of Gabe.

There was a whole other conversation that Regan imagined she and Isabel were going to have someday soon, but for today Holly needed a bed, so Regan sucked up the ego and played nice. Which meant she would
not
bring up the secret town council meeting planned for tomorrow, and she would most definitely
not
poke Isabel in the eye.

She reached in her purse and pulled out a red glittery envelope. “Actually, Holly’s birthday party is coming up and we wanted to drop off the invite.”

Isabel blinked down at the invitation in Regan’s hand but made no move to accept the offering. Then she looked up, a smile firmly in place, but her eyes turned mean. “Actually, I don’t think Lauren can come.”

Regan’s confidence faltered a little. Women like Isabel always made her feel insignificant, but she would be damned if Isabel overlooked Holly as easily. So she practically shoved the card into Isabel’s hand. “You haven’t even seen what day it is.”

Isabel took the card and flipped it open. “Ah, yes. Next weekend Lauren is at her dad’s. His family is in town doing the whole Christmas festivities.” She shoved it back at Regan. “Maybe next year.”

She shouldn’t be upset that they weren’t coming. Spending the whole afternoon with Isabel watching and judging would have been exhausting. But Holly really wanted her best friend there and, in spite of her mother, Lauren was a sweet kid, one who had gone out of her way to make Holly feel welcome at her new school.

Regan stuffed the invitation, and her bad attitude, back in her purse. It didn’t matter if Isabel and Regan didn’t mesh—for the kids they should at least try. If Holly and Lauren continued playing together at school, Regan was going to be seeing a lot of Isabel, which meant that someone had to make the effort. She just hated that the someone had to be her.

“Maybe we could get the girls together sometime after school or over the break,” she offered, thinking of how that would lessen the blow of Lauren not being there Saturday. “I could do a little mock party, just the two of them. Make cupcakes or something.”

“That sounds great. I’ll have to check the calendar. We’re pretty busy this season.” Dismissing Regan, Isabel turned to Gabe, all smiles. “Speaking of calendars, I must have used up one of my Christmas miracles.”

“How’s that?” Gabe asked, his eyes darting between the two women, trying to figure out how he’d just gotten pulled into the middle. But Regan noticed, giddily, that he slid closer, almost offering her his alliance if she needed it. She didn’t, but the thought was sweet.

“I was just talking to Daddy about you. He’s having a small soirée tonight and wanted me to bring you along.” Isabel looked at Regan. “Please don’t think I’m being rude, but it’s an industry-people-only kind of event.
Wine
industry. I imagine you’d get bored anyway.”

And that was when those rage issues Gabe was always warning Regan about kicked in. Being dismissed was one thing. Being treated like she was stupid was another.

She’d dealt with girls like Isabel her whole life. She knew how to turn the other cheek, how to smile while ducking when they were going for the jugular. When she was younger she’d had to suck it up because her mom cleaned houses for most of their families. But she wasn’t that girl anymore.

“That’s okay, I’m really not all that into plastic corks. Plus, we already have dinner plans tonight.” She slid her arms through Gabe’s. “Right, Gabe?”

Gabe smiled big and long, and Regan knew she’d just played into his hands. “Regan’s right. Tonight she promised to feed me since we’ll spend most of the night testing out that new couch of hers.” She felt him flex and swallowed. “You know, to see where it fits best.”

Isabel’s hurt eyes flew from Gabe’s to Regan’s and narrowed into two scorned slits. Regan instantly regretted using him to get to Isabel. Sure, Lauren’s mom could be nasty and rude, but that didn’t mean Regan had to be nasty back. Isabel was still Lauren’s mom and Regan was better than that.

Regan dropped Gabe’s arm and took a step closer to Isabel. “Look, I think somehow we got off to an...awkward start. We have two wonderful daughters who obviously love spending time together. Why don’t we start over?” She stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Regan, Holly’s mom.”

Isabel stared at her hand, then at the powerful DeLuca at her side, and Regan could almost hear her weighing all the possible outcomes. Taking on a single mom who worked at the local hotel would be fun for her. Taking on a DeLuca could be devastating to her family.
That
Regan knew firsthand, and the way Isabel’s features softened, she did too.

But before anyone had a chance to speak further, Holly came running out of the house with Lauren right behind her, phone in hand.

“Mommy!” Holly screamed. “Lauren’s coming to my party. She’s the first one to RSVP.” Holly pronounced the acronym as a single word, going heavy on the
S
and the
P
.

Regan looked at Isabel, silently begging her, from one mother to another, not to break her daughter’s heart. But Isabel only smiled, walked over to stand behind Lauren, and rested her hands on her shoulder. The effect was creepy. It was almost as though Lauren was the puppet and Isabel was the ventriloquist.

“I’m sorry, Holly. But Lauren is at her dad’s this weekend and we have to talk to him first—”

“I already did,” Lauren said, stepping away and breaking the connection. She waved the phone wildly. “And he said that I could go cuz we don’t have anything to do this weekend and Holly’s my best friend.”

With every word, Isabel’s smile got brighter and brighter until Regan was convinced her forehead was going to break.

“Plus, it’s an official Pricilla tea party.” Holly bounced on the tips of her toes.

“Just like the one you wanted to throw me when
I
turn six,” Lauren declared, clapping in unison with Holly’s bouncing.

It may not have been Isabel’s forehead that broke, but something inside the woman shattered, and all of the jagged edges were now aimed at Regan. “Pricilla’s is booked years in advance. I know. I have been on the wait list since Lauren was born.”

She paused, her focus flickering between Regan and Gabe. “You must have pulled some pretty
large
strings to get that party for this weekend.”

Her eyes went wide and took on a sinister spark that hollowed Regan’s stomach.

“It’s just dinner,” Regan repeated, standing in the dark and resting her cheek against a bag of frozen corn. No matter how many times she said it, it didn’t stop her heart from hoping that it might turn into more. Which was silly because she’d only asked Gabe to dinner to stick it to Isabel. She’d tried to rescind the invitation, but Holly had reissued it. And then charged her a quarter for being rude.

Rude didn’t even begin to describe what Isabel had been. And there weren’t enough quarters in the world for Regan to get over the way she’d implied that A) Regan was the kind of woman who would use sex to get her daughter a freaking party at a teahouse, and B) sex was the only way a woman like Regan could catch a guy like Gabe’s interest. Not that having sex with Gabe was totally out of the question, but they had more between them than just sheer chemistry.

Right?

Lightning crackled though the night sky, illuminating the kitchen a second before thunder shook the apartment. After another few seconds she shut the freezer door and went to the oven. Thank God for gas. She was not going to let Isabel ruin her night.

She opened the door, inhaled the smell of chilies and melting cheese and, flashlight in hand, checked on dinner. Her mom’s enchiladas bubbled, a perfectly golden top layer forming.

The thunderstorm had blown in and subsequently blown a transformer on the far side of town, leaving most of St. Helena with no power. Gabe and Holly had gone to the store and bought a warehouse supply of candles and a few dozen flashlights.

Gabe had thankfully put together Holly’s new bed before the power went out. Now he was moving it from wall to wall until Holly decided where she wanted it.

Not that Regan was any better. She’d moved the couch four times in their peanut-sized apartment, only to put it under the window—the place where Gabe had originally suggested, although, he’d said, they’d have to move it around some more later, just to be sure. That was when Regan took
it upon herself to hide in the kitchen and scour her new table and chairs until they gleamed.

She had a house full of furniture, a happy daughter with a bed, and a sexy man staying for dinner. She was going for perfection tonight.

Holly scrambled across the linoleum, sliding to a stop next to the sink, a little breathless and a whole lot excited. She was practically vibrating. “Scissors and tape?”

“Tape’s in the junk drawer. I’ll get the scissors.”

Holly jerked open the top drawer and yanked out tape, a pile of construction paper, the bottle of fast-drying, superstrength glue that was guaranteed to stick any two surfaces together, even if it were a child’s hand to a head of hair, and looked up. “I’ve got adult supervision this time. And I like my bangs.”

“You had adult supervision last time.” Regan rolled up on her toes, stretching to reach the craft basket on the top of the fridge. No such luck. “What are you guys doing in there? It’s pitch black.”

“Gabe and me tied a bunch of flashlights together and then he hung them from the lamp. Upside down.”

Regan placed one palm on the puckered finish of the freezer door and contorted her body to gain an extra half inch of reach, her fingertips barely brushing the woven basket. She tried again, this time managing to knock it back another inch.

“Damn it.”

“That’ll cost you a quarter,” Gabe said, his voice a sexy rasp in her ear.

One strong hand slid around her waist, splaying across her midriff and creating all kinds of electricity. His calloused
fingers pressed her back, until the curve of her bottom fit snug against his groin, and she had to brace herself against the freezer door since her body had turned to Jell-O.

The other hand trailed up her arm, over her elbow, her wrist, between her fingers, before palming the basket handle.

“It’s a surprise.” Gabe’s lips grazed her lobe. Setting the basket on the counter, his thumb teased the skin that peeked out between the top of her jeans and the hem of her shirt.

Gabe excelled in multitasking. In fact, he was a multitasker extraordinaire. He explored every inch of her stomach while digging out the scissors and a ball of twine, reminding her that she was a woman. A woman who had wants and needs that went beyond what her double-A boyfriend could provide.

Gabe made her feel sexy and smart and wanted. And silly or not, she hadn’t felt wanted in a really long time. Not in the way that Gabe was making clear, as he pressed his erection against her back. Plus her battery-operated boyfriend didn’t like to cuddle.

Regan wanted someone to share her life with. Not the hard times—she was more than capable of handling whatever came at her on her own. But times like this, with Holly busting at the seams with laughter, a warm meal in the oven, and the table set for three. Someone to share her wonderful daughter with, and after she went to bed, someone to snuggle up close to.

Her head fell back, resting on the center of his chest, and she looked up into his eyes and felt her panties go wet. Even through the candlelight she could see exactly what he was thinking, and it involved the table, her naked, and maybe a tub of Rocky Road. Or maybe that was her thinking.

“Perfect,” he breathed, setting a black Sharpie on the counter. Whether he was talking about how well they fit, or the Rocky Road sexcapade, or that he’d found the tools he needed, she didn’t know.

A lazy smile crossed his lips and his finger, not so lazy, dipped slightly below her waistband, running along the edge of her panties. A quick tease, gone as fast as it came. But effective as hell.

“Just give us ten minutes.”

Gabe’s words hummed through her.

Ten minutes? That wouldn’t even give the ice cream time to soften. He had her so wound, ten hours wouldn’t even do it.

As if reading her mind, he chuckled. “I meant that Holly and I need a few more minutes and then we’ll be done.”

“Oh. Right. Ten minutes.” She stepped away and, hoping that the dim candlelight hid her blaring red cheeks, busied herself with stirring the rice on the stovetop that didn’t need stirring.

She could feel Gabe watching her, waiting for her to look up. When she did she forgot to breathe, because his gaze slid from her eyes to her lips, slowly over her breasts and hips, stopping when they got to her bare feet.

She felt her body heat and all she could think was,
Don’t look at the table. Don’t look at the table
. So, of course, she was so busy telling herself not to look at the table that she looked at the table. And Gabe saw. And understood. And slid her a smile so hot she still felt its burn even after he and Holly had left the kitchen. Even after she told herself that she was not going to have sex with Gabe—kitchen table or elsewhere.