Maureen Child - Under the Millionaire’s Mistletoe

“I thought I’d find you here.”

He went still as a post. Her voice came from behind him and he’d hungered to hear it for so many days, he wanted to just take a second to enjoy it. But when she didn’t speak again, he turned around to face her.

Her long, auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail and she was wearing paint-stained jeans and a black sweatshirt, also decorated with splotches of paint. Her eyes were locked on his and Sam thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

Behind her, he could see that the promised rain had finally arrived. The sky was gray and trees were bending in the wet wind.

“I went to your office first,” she said.

He just looked at her. He couldn’t seem to get his fill. “I closed it until after the holidays.”

“Yeah, I saw the sign.” She walked closer, the heels of her boots tapping in tandem with the rain.

It took everything Sam had not to go to her, wrap his arms around her and hold on. He wanted her with an ache that had only gotten more overpowering over the last few days. And he knew unless he had her in his life, he was doomed to misery.

“You’ve got paint on your cheek,” he said.

She shrugged. “I’m working at Corzino’s.”

He nodded and wondered why they were suddenly being so damn polite.

“I know what you did,” she said and walked close enough that he could smell her. The scent of her shampoo mingled with the sharp scent of paint and he almost smiled. Because to him, that was the essence of Anna.

“And?” he asked, staring down into her emerald green eyes.

“And, I want to know why,” she told him softly.

“You know why,” he admitted, his blood stirring, his body quickening. She was so close and he’d missed her so much.

After his meeting with Dave Cameron, he’d known that he’d have to face Anna. But he hadn’t been sure what her reaction would be. Hell, she was a hard woman to predict, which was only one of the reasons he was crazy about her.

She watched him through guarded eyes. “I hope I do. Why don’t you tell me?”

Grumbling now, he admitted, “I did it because I love you, okay? You wouldn’t answer the damn phone and I knew you wouldn’t see me. So this was the only way I had to tell you.”

“Sam…”

“It’s not the only reason,” he told her, talking fast now that he had her here and it was so important to make her see what he was feeling. “Your dad’s a good man and it’s a good business decision for both of us, but you’re the main reason I did it, Anna. I did it because of you. For you.”

When she didn’t say anything, he added, “I don’t expect anything from you. You don’t have to do anything. Hell, I don’t even expect you to believe that I love you, but I do.”

She still wasn’t talking, and Sam suddenly couldn’t stand still under her gaze. He grabbed her, giving into the instinctive urge clawing at him. He pulled her close, stared down into those green eyes of hers and said, “I’d do anything for you, Anna.”

He loved her.

Anna sighed, grinned up at him and threw her arms around his neck, holding on for all she was worth. “Oh, Sam, I love you, too. I love you so much.”

“God.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck and swept his big hands up and down her spine, as if reassuring him that she was once again in his arms.

He kissed her, long and deep, and Anna felt her world right itself again. Fires burned inside her and she knew that with him in her life, she would never again be cold.

“You could have said something,” he accused, when he finally broke the kiss long enough to look down at her. “Did you have to let me keep babbling?”

She grinned and leaned into him, arching her body into his. “Sorry. But after you said you loved me, I sort of zoned out.”

“Is that right?” His voice was low and almost seemed to rumble along her nerve endings.

“Yeah, it is. I do love you, Sam,” she said, staring into his eyes and letting him see everything she was feeling. “And what you did for my dad-you didn’t have to.”

“I know that,” he said, and bent to kiss her again. Once. Twice. “I wanted to do it, not because I had to but because I knew it would make you happy.”

“You make me happy, Sam. Just you.”

“I’m making that my mission in life,” he told her. “Because I never want to be without you again, Anna.”

“Never,” she whispered and sighed as he kissed her again and again.

At last, though, he pulled back and pointed at the mural. “This is the first time I’ve come in here since you left,” he admitted. “I couldn’t look at that painting without thinking of you. Couldn’t look at that snake without remembering that I’d let you go.”

She laid her head on his broad chest and smiled at the steady beat of his heart. “I’ll paint over that snake,” she promised.

“No,” he told her. “Leave it. It’s a good reminder to me.”

“Of what?”

“Everytime I see it, I’ll remember how close I came to losing you, and that’ll make me appreciate what we’ve got together even more.”

Tears filled her eyes as she smiled at him. “Tell me what we’ve got, Sam.”

“Everything, Anna,” he said. “Marry me and we’ll have everything.”

“Yes.” She didn’t have to think about it. Didn’t have to wonder. Didn’t have to ask herself if she was sure. It didn’t matter if she’d met him two weeks ago or two years ago. This was the one man for her. The man she would love for the rest of her life. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

One corner of his mouth tipped into that delicious half smile she loved so much. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

His hands swept under the hem of her sweatshirt to cup her breasts and she groaned at the contact. He tweaked her nipples through the lace of her bra and Anna sighed in pleasure.

“I know a great way to spend a rainy day,” he said.

She sighed, and almost surrendered before she remembered, “Oh, I can’t! I have to work. I told Mateo and-”

Sam kissed her again until she couldn’t think, let alone speak. When he lifted his head, he smiled down at her. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ve got tonight to celebrate.”

She winced and groaned aloud as she remembered she’d already made a promise to her stepmother. “I promised Clarissa I’d go to the house for dinner. To celebrate. You have to come, too, so we can tell them our news together.”

He laughed and rested his forehead against hers. “Dinner with the family. Agreed. And I should probably have a talk with your dad about us anyway. But after, it’s just you and me.”

“Absolutely.” She couldn’t wait to get him alone. To feel his body sliding into hers. To hear him say he loved her again and to know that she would be with him forever.

“Since we missed our first Christmas together,” Sam was saying, “we’ve got some catching up to do.”

“What did you have in mind?” she asked a little breathlessly.

“Well,” Sam said, “I’m thinking we’ll have some wine, sit in front of the Christmas tree and open our presents.”

“Presents?” she asked, confused.

He dropped his fingers to the snap of her jeans and flicked it open. Anna gasped as he undid her zipper and slid one hand across her abdomen. Then she understood. “Ah. Open our presents,” she said, moving into his touch. “Yep, that’s a great idea. We could even call it our first tradition.”

“You really are my kind of woman,” he mused, zipping up her jeans and snapping them closed again.

“And don’t you forget it,” Anna told him, her insides melting at the wild, wicked look in his eyes.

“Not a chance, babe.” Taking her hand in his, he kissed her knuckles, then said, “Come on, I’ll drive you to Mateo’s. I don’t want you taking chances in this rain.”

Anna hugged him and whispered, “Rain? What rain? All I can see is sunshine and rainbows.”

While the rain pelted down from a steel-gray sky, inside the garage there was warmth and love and the promise of tomorrow.

Sam held on to her for another long minute, giving each of them a chance to settle. To relish the realization that they were together now and everything was going to be just as it should be.

“Happy New Year, Anna.”

“Happy New Year, Sam.”

The babble of chatter and laughter ceased.

The only sounds left in the sudden hush of the living room were the rich baritone of Bing Crosby crooning “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” and the crackle of the fire in the stone fireplace.

Perplexed, Meg Elliot turned, careful not to spill the pyramid of Christmas tarts from the silver tray in her hands.

And came face-to-face with a stranger.

Face-to-chest, actually. She had to look up from the navy polo shirt stretched across his shoulders to see his face. Dark, wavy hair, in need of a cut, brushed his forehead. He was clean-shaven and tanned. Too tanned for this time of year at Lake Tahoe, and not a skier’s tan. But it was the silver eyes boring into her with unreadable intent that stilled her.

She knew those eyes.

But she didn’t know this man.

She’d met so many people in the last few months, it was no surprise that she might forget a face. Except for the fact that this man was not the forgettable type-imposing, disconcerting and way too handsome.

How had he even gotten in? Caesar, guard dog extraordinaire, invariably created an unholy ruckus when anyone, even her friends, approached the house. It had taken him all of the three months she’d lived here to get used to her. And the stranger standing in front of her, silent and watchful, most definitely did not fall into the category of friend. He dropped a leather overnight bag to the carpet with a quiet thud.