Jennifer Labrecque - Mistletoe Madness

She glanced around. Café Tatu was bright and noisy with the feel and look of a Japanese high-tech sushi bar. Conversation was limited, and the longer they sat there with limited contact, the more in control Tatiana felt. She finished the last of the restaurant’s signature drink, a sake martini. In an effort not to gain too much weight, she never ate all the food on her plate-and she noticed Cole had the same approach-or drank all the wine in her glass. Tonight, however, she polished off her drink. So was it considered a sakini or a marsake?

Heck if she knew, but it was tasty, and she was feeling fully in control of herself. Downright jubilant, in fact. She was no longer suffering from some delusional state of infatuation over Cole Mitchell brought on by holiday depression. True enough, she might feel a touch of lust blooming low in her belly over the way the bright light brought out a hint of brown in his dark hair, but that really didn’t mean anything. Half the women in the room had shot inquiring looks his way, some bolder than others. Grudgingly Tatiana had to give him credit. This was business, not pleasure, and he could’ve easily collected half a dozen phone numbers, but he had been seemingly oblivious to the looks.

They stepped out of the warm, overly bright restaurant on the trendy Upper East Side into the bracing, cold night. It had begun to snow when they’d first entered the restaurant and it continued to fall steadily now.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Cole said with a grin, snowflakes catching in his dark lashes.

“What?”

“It’s as if the city gets a new coat of paint. All the dirty snow is hidden by the new stuff and for a while, everything is fresh again.”

At the corner stood one of the numerous horse-drawn carriages found around Central Park’s periphery. The horse, a dappled gray, snorted, and its breath rose like a smoke signal among the falling snow.

“Are you in a big hurry to get home?” Cole asked.

The quiet of her co-op’s eight-hundred square feet, complete with tabletop tree and her stocking hung by the microwave in the kitchen-hey, as close to a fireplace as she was likely to come-seemed more bleak than appealing after Café Tatu’s noise and bright lights.

“No. I’m not particularly in a hurry. Why?”

He nodded toward the carriage. “How about a ride through Central Park?”

“Why? This isn’t like dancing last night. It’s not part of the dining experience.”

“Maybe because it’s there and we’re here and Central Park at Christmastime with the snow is beautiful.” He peered closer at her. “You have taken a carriage ride through Central Park before, haven’t you?”

Tatiana crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t need to make it sound as if I’ve committed a sin.”

“But you have.” Cole grinned at her and she wanted to grin back like an idiot. “It’s a cardinal sin of omission, but I can help you with that right now.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the horse and buggy.

“With you?”

“That was the general intent.” His smile, with a slight edge of sarcasm, didn’t waver, but Tatiana thought she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. “I don’t see anyone else forming a line.”

The word no hovered on the tip of her tongue until she heard her mother admonishing her to learn to have fun. She had an empty apartment waiting, and Central Park would be beautiful in the snowy onslaught.

“Why not?”

“Gracious, as usual,” he said.

“I wouldn’t want you to think aliens had taken over my body.” She figured if she could just keep things on the same footing they’d been on since she met him, she’d be okay. Holidays or not, she wasn’t expected to be nice to him.

Cole strode over to the driver, his shoulders impossibly wide in his wool winter coat, snow dusting his hair. He exchanged a few words with the man, some folded cash and something else she couldn’t make out at this distance. In less than a minute the driver handed her up into the vehicle. She settled on the worn velvet upholstery and Cole climbed in behind her. Suddenly it was all too close and too tight and he was too large to share such an enclosed space. Her heart thudded against her ribs. But she could hardly leap up and jump out of the carriage simply because they were now sitting shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, even though that minimal contact sent heat surging through her.

She gritted her teeth and looked in the other direction. Their guide spread a blanket over their laps. A half roof, similar to that of a convertible, with “windows” cut into each side, sheltered them from the wet stuff.

Then the driver climbed onto his seat and took up the reins and with a quiet “Heyya,” they were off.

It was like being transported someplace magical where green boughs hung low beneath the weight of white powder and the lights of the city were a far and distant place in the future. A quixotic blend of lassitude and longing stole through her.

Cole turned his head, which brought his mouth a mere inch or so from hers. “Cozy? Warm enough?”

She shifted slightly, enough to put a gap between them. “Toasty. Thanks.”

“You know, I think I’ve finally figured you out,” Cole said.

“Really? Please enlighten me.”

“You want to kiss me.”

She tried not to sputter. “You’re delusional.”

“You can’t add that to your long list of my sins.” The look in his blue eyes filled her with a delicious heat. “Why else would you sit under mistletoe?”

“I didn’t, Mr. Half-Baked Brain.” She glanced up. Sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe hung suspended from the carriage top above them. “Let me remind you, this was your idea.” Precisely. That was the other thing she’d seen him hand the driver.

“Are you implying I want to kiss you?” he said.

“I’m not implying anything.” A woman could drown in the depths of his eyes. “I’m saying it outright. I’m stating it so your simple mind can grasp it. You planned this.” She wasn’t sure whether she was annoyed at his manipulation or flattered.

“Just because I dream about your mouth at night, how it would feel…” He skimmed his fingertip along the bow of her upper lip and she nearly forgot to breathe. His voice was low and seductive in the cocoon of their carriage. “How it would taste…” He traced the seam of her mouth and she felt his touch all the way to her toes. “Is not proof that I would deliberately manipulate you under a sprig of mistletoe. I’m not that kind of guy.”

She nipped the tip of his finger between her teeth. “You’re exactly that kind of guy.”

“Then I might as well live down to your expectations.” He reached beneath her hair and cupped her neck in his hand. She could easily pull away, protest, but-God help her-she just wanted to kiss him. Once.

The air was cold and his mouth was warm and she kissed him back.

“Tatiana,” he murmured her name against her mouth and fisted his hand in her hair. Then he kissed her again and she realized she’d been wrong. She wanted-no, desperately needed-more than one of his kisses. She pressed closer to him, hungry for his warmth. Her tongue met his in a languorous sweep, and she was drowning in the sensation of cold air bracing her skin and the heat of his mouth.

Kissing Cole was like a stiff measure of brandy that warmed her from within and made her nearly drunk from the pleasure. Sweet, hot desire pooled between her thighs and left her breasts feeling full and aching for his touch. Instinctively she shifted and he pulled her nearer beneath the blanket.

They might have gone on kissing for…well, who knew for how long if the carriage hadn’t rocked to a stop, and Tatiana realized she was half sitting on his lap. Her body hummed like a finely tuned instrument ready to be played. If she was a Stradivarius, there was no mistaking the hard press of his bow next to her hip.

Tatiana blinked her eyes open. She scooted off his lap. Ostensibly they were back where they’d started, except she knew with a surety they’d never be back where they’d started.

The air’s chill seeped into her. If they hadn’t been in a public place, she wouldn’t have stopped. Desire and promise simmered in his gaze. He wouldn’t have stopped either. She felt it and she knew he did, too. It was there in his eyes. The next time was inevitable and they’d finish what they’d started tonight. This had satisfied nothing. Instead it had aroused a ravening hunger in her for the touch of his hands, the taste of his skin, the exquisite slide of him inside her.

Cole appeared all too satisfied with himself. “I told you you wanted to kiss me.”

She reached above them, tweaked down the mistletoe and dropped it in his lap.

“Well, darling, if you insist…You certainly won’t get any resistance from me.” His grin was sheer arrogant wickedness.

She offered him the sweetest smile she could muster. “If I wanted to kiss you, I wouldn’t need a piece of greenery to do it.”

She stepped past him and the driver handed her down.

It might not have been the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but it was a damn good exit line.

Cole plopped into his seat in the Circle of Love. Friday afternoon. The final gift exchange. And he’d damn near missed it. He’d ditched work this morning because he’d decided on a new final Secret Santa gift for Tatiana after their carriage ride last night. He’d been ready to toss in the towel when he’d finally found what he was looking for. Whew! He’d barely made it back in time.

He bit back a smirk. She’d know without a doubt who had given her this gift. And without a doubt, she wouldn’t reveal him as her Secret Santa. He looked around. Everyone was here except her.

Melvin beamed at the crowd. “Well, it’s time to open the final gifts-”

Cole interrupted. “Hold on. Aren’t we going to wait for Tatiana?”