Mason’s lips quirked. “Breathe, Trudy.”
“I can’t.” She pressed a palm to her abdomen. “There’s too much riding on this.”
“There is?”
She nodded. “Our entire future.”
He stilled, his gaze sharp on hers. “Really.”
“Unwrap the present, Mason,” she insisted softly.
Lowering his head, he tore the wrapping paper off, tossing it in the air, so his coworkers laughed as the bits came down on their heads. Then he turned it around and looked at it.
She knew what he saw: Two people, leaning toward each other, their eyes lit with joy and affection—with love.
He looked at her.
“It sums it up,” she said stepping forward. “That’s how I feel about you.”
His grip tightening on the frame, he shook his head. “Gertrude, don’t toy with me. You aren’t speaking the same language I am. I want you forever. I
love
you, so if you aren’t willing to try, then you should leave.”
“I don’t want to try,” she exclaimed. “I want to
do
. I love you, too, idiot. That’s what I’m saying.”
Because he looked skeptical, she grabbed him by the front of his coat and pulled him in for a kiss.
He melted against her, his arms coming around to hold her. But when she lifted her head, he shook his head. “The physical stuff has never been hard for us. It’s the rest that I worry about.”
“I worry, too, but I figure since I’m staying we can work on them.”
Eyes widening, he froze. “You’re staying?” he asked as if he was afraid he’d misheard.
“Yes,” she said confidently. “I’m spending this holiday season with you, and every one after. If you’ll have me.”
“Gertrude, you’re the only gift I’ll ever want.” He lifted her chin and kissed her softly.
She threw her arms around him and kissed him like she meant it—like it was forever. Because it was.
Epilogue
Trudy looked at the glass of eggnog in her hand. Someone—she couldn’t remember what his name was, she’d met so many new people—had put it there. She hadn’t touched it, though, because
eggnog
.
But she couldn’t set it down either. That’d be rude, and the last thing she wanted to do was insult their host—not on Christmas Day, and especially not because it was Daniela Rossi.
If someone had told her she’d end up in San Francisco this year, in an enormous posh high-rise, at Daniela Rossi’s annual private Christmas party, with eggnog in her hand, she’d have asked what sort of drugs that person had taken.
“How are you doing?” Eve said, slipping her arm around Trudy’s waist. “Do you need anything?”
She lifted the cup. “I have more than I need.”
Eve smiled impishly. “Usually Daniela serves different flavors of mimosas, but this year she decided to go traditional. The eggnog is actually delicious, and those are words I never thought I’d string together. It’s Daniela’s grandmother’s recipe.”
“Generally I’d trust your taste, Eve, but . . .” Trudy stared suspiciously at the yellow beverage.
The blonde laughed. “You don’t have to drink it. There are plenty of other treats.”
That was certain. Mason had spent the first hour they’d arrived standing next to the dining room table, nibbling on everything Daniela set out.
And Daniela had set out a lot.
Gwen sauntered over, festive in a red velvet skirt with a matching vest. Her hair was twisted in intricate rolls on top of her head, and her choker looked like it might be crusted with real rubies.
Her smile was the brightest thing on her though. “
Joyeux Noël, mes choux,
“ she said as she kissed Eve on both cheeks. She turned to Trudy and did the same.
“Feeling nostalgic, Gwen?” Eve asked, linking her arm through her friend’s.
“I always miss my grandmother during the holidays. But I have her here”—she touched the choker, and then she put a hand over her heart—”and here.”
“Mason was close to his grandmother, too,” Trudy heard herself say.
“Speaking of Mason.” Gwen’s smile was knowing. “I had a feeling you’d come to realize everything Laurel Heights had to offer. In fact, I have something for you. A welcoming gift.”
Trudy watched Gwen bustle away and then looked at Eve.
She shrugged. “I have no idea what she has up her sleeve, but a dollar says it’s a gourd.”
“I heard that,” Gwen said, rejoining them. She grinned impishly, holding out a bag with tissue fanned out from the top. “And it is. I hope you like it.”
Setting her drink down, she reached in the bag and drew out a squat, pale gourd. The skin held a golden sheen and felt silky to her fingers. The scene painted around it was of the Golden Gate Bridge strung up with Christmas lights.
“Remember the stick figure you made?” Gwen pointed at one of the bridge columns. “I used your gourd and turned it into the Golden Gate. So you remember your first Christmas here.”
Trudy’s throat caught with emotion. She swallowed a couple times and then said, “It’s perfect.”
Gwen’s smile lit her face. “Oh good. You had me worried.”
Impulsively, she hugged the artist tight. “Thank you.”
‘ ”Excellent outfit, by the way,” Gwen said as they pulled away. “I love the sweater.”
“Thank you.” She’d cut the sleeves off and cropped the reindeer sweater that Mason had given her and stitched up the edges. She wore it over a long-sleeved black shirt and her leather pants. She was pleased with the look, actually. She’d been worried how Mason would react to her butchering the sweater, but he’d thought it was much improved. Even the reindeer on it looked pleased.
Mason looked pleased, too. Not surprising. His boss sent him an email yesterday, despite the fact that it was Christmas Eve, saying that he was going to offer Mason the VP position officially after New Year’s.
She smiled as she remembered his face after his boss’s email. It made her wonder how Jon was. Suddenly needing to hear his voice, she looked around. “Is there somewhere I can make a call?”
“Go into one of Daniela and Nico’s spare bedrooms,” Eve said, pointing. “Down the hall.”
She went into the first one. The room was furnished simply, only highlighting the view, which was incredible. Setting her gourd on a table, Trudy stood at the windows that looked out on the bay and dialed Jon.
“Do you know what time it is?” he said as a greeting.
Something tight in her eased, hearing his voice. “Yes, but it’s Christmas, so I wanted to call and say hello.”
“Since when did you call me on Christmas?”
Since Mason had taught her that the holidays were about more than consumerism and obligations. “Since I came to Laurel Heights,” she said simply.
“Santa has really warped your mind.”
“Mason.” She smiled. “His name it Mason Miller.”
“Noted. Expect a full report on him in the morning, although I suspect you’ve already covered that.” Jon’s voice lowered. “Are you happy, Trudy?”
She nodded, feeling joy well up in her chest. “I’m wearing red on top of my leather pants,” she said, knowing he’d understand. She was wearing red underneath too, but that was privileged information for Mason’s eyes only.
“Damn,” her new partner said.
“I know.” She paused, but then decided she had to say it. “I miss you, Jon.”
“I miss you, too.” Then his voice became all business. “Summer and I will be making a trip to visit the San Francisco office soon, so tell Mason to be on his toes.”
“I will.”
His voice softened again, “Be happy, Trudy.”
She was, she thought with a smile as she hung up. It was amazing. She’d never felt so light before—or so welcomed.
She had friends
. Just that thought alone baffled her.
A knock sounded at the door before it opened, and Mason popped his head in. “So this is where you disappeared to. I thought you’d run off.”
She shook her head, tucking her mobile away. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“I like hearing that,” he said as he walked into the room and closed the door. He wore the outfit she’d given him for Christmas—a jacket, shirt, and pants that looked very much like what Han Solo wore in
Empire Strikes Back
. He looked particularly hot in it.
“I have something for you,” he said.
Her heart jumped as he fished in his pocket. He gave the best presents. That morning he’d given her more lingerie as well as a fancy printer she’d had her eyes on for her new office, a.k.a. his guest room, converted.
“Here.” He withdrew a ring and held it out.
Her breath caught. It was obviously old, but it still had a modern look to it. Trudy thought it might be Art Deco, with a large uniquely shaped pearl and clusters of diamonds in all shapes and cuts around it.
He held it out for her to see, without handing it over. “What do you think of it?”
“It’s pretty,” she managed to say. Then she asked, “What is it?”
“A ring. Do you need glasses, Gertrude?” He looked her in the eye. “It’s not for you. At least, not yet.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not sure you want it or what it comes with.”
“What does it come with?” she asked carefully.
“Forever with me, which includes children, probably two, and a lifetime of ninja cookies and Christmas carols.”
She bit her lip, surprised by how much she wanted all of it.
He began to put it away back in his pocket.
“Wait.” She put her hand on his. “What if I want it now?”
“I’m not sure you’re ready for it. Besides, we’ve only known each other for two weeks. We aren’t the type of people who are impulsive like that. We need more time to get to know each other.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You haven’t even asked me if I’m ready for it.”
He shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. “Okay, I’ll humor you. Are you ready, Gertrude?”
She grabbed him by his collar and pulled him to her. His hands automatically gripped her hips, and she wrapped her other arm around his neck. Then in a soft voice she sang, “All I want for Christmas . . . is you!”
He blinked. “Did you just sing Mariah Carey to me?”
“I did.” She cupped his face. “But if you ever tell anyone, I’ll gauge out your eyes.”
“I love it when you threaten me with bodily damage.” He pulled her closer. “What do you say? Promise to accept my proposal when I pop the question?”
“Yes.” She pressed her lips to his. “As long as it involves naked holiday cookies and Santa’s hats.”
“I think that can be arranged.” He kissed her again, a physical representation of his vow. “I love you, Trudy.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered, holding him close, feeling the hope and joy of the holidays that she’d never felt before, utterly wrapped in love.
Kate’s Notes
I have no idea if you can build a snowman out of manufactured snow—I used the powers vested in me as a writer to make that up. But wouldn’t it be cool? And wasn’t Mason’s effort sweet?
Also, while in the US we flip people off, in the UK they offer the two-finger salute, which is your index and forefinger in a V with the back of your hand facing the other person.
Lose yourself in Kate’s Summerhill series,
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Viola Summerhill needs sex.
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Stocking her new gallery with work worthy of the grand opening she desires isn’t easy, though. She needs a smashing piece—something that’ll steal everyone’s breath. And she finds the most amazing work she’s ever seen where she least expects it: in the home of what was supposed to be a one night stand.
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Kate’s Shelf
Summerhill
The Laurel Heights Series
Wrapped in You (a holiday novella)
Pillow Talk Novels
The Guardians of Destiny
Standalone
Legend of Kate
Kate has tangoed at midnight with a man in blue, furry chaps, dueled with flaming swords in the desert, and strutted on bar tops across the world and back. She’s been kissed under the Eiffel Tower, had her butt pinched in Florence, and been serenaded in New Orleans. She found Happy Ever After in San Francisco with her Magic Man.
Kate’s the bestselling author of the Summerhill series and critically acclaimed Laurel Heights Novels, as well as the Pillow Talk and Guardians of Destiny series. She’s been translated into several languages and is quite proud to say she’s big Down Under. All her books are about strong, independent women and the sexy alpha heroes who love them.