And in his hands were dozens of foil packages. She decided to take a deep breath. Her brilliant excuse had just gone out the window. “Where did you get those?” she gasped.
He grinned at her. “Good ole Billy—your neighbor.”
“Billy?” This was more bizarre than she thought. She cocked her head sideways, trying to come to terms with the idea. “He’s in his sixties! At least.”
Hunter snorted. “So what?”
May plucked at the quilt. “Well, I just thought…men that old didn’t…I mean.…”
“You thought wrong. My uncle is seventy-three and he’s still pounding his—” He stopped, realizing what he was saying. C. Hunter Douglas turned bright red. “Ah.…sorry.”
Her lips twitched. He really was adorable. The perfect combination of boyish charm and predatory “hunkiness.” She sighed demurely.
Unfortunately, her nice thoughts of him shifted to apprehension when he tossed the mound of packets onto the bedside table.
She swallowed. There were hundreds of the little buggers. “You—you’re being overly optimistic, don’t you think?”
“Nope.” He lifted the quilt and climbed into bed.
Before she had time to think of something to say, he scooped her in his arms and rolled on top of her, his lips taking hers in swift possession.
Caught in her own sensuality, May succumbed to his passion—until he began gently to probe between her thighs with his erection, trying to get her to unlock her legs.
“Open for me, honey,” He whispered the sweet words against her mouth, and if anything was ever more perfectly done in her life, she hadn’t known about it. Still…
The wispy words rushed out. “Oh, Hunter, it’s been…such a long time and—”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be careful.”
May unlocked her legs—a little—and squeezed her eyes shut.
What was this all about? Hunter wondered. Since she had only spread her legs the smallest space, he had to wedge himself in there bit by bit until she finally opened her thighs all the way for him.
Hunter pressed forward slightly.
She was very tight. A little bit more…
He felt the barrier.
Astonished, he looked down at the woman beneath him. Her face was drawn up anxiously and she was biting her bottom lip.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, his lips twitched. Does she think I can’t tell? “May.” His voice held a hint of laughter and a hint of reproach.
She did not change her expression or open her eyes. “Yes, Hunter?” she whispered haltingly.
He decided that what he was going to say could wait until later.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” His mouth brushed her closed lids in a loving caress.
Her green eyes fluttered open. “Oh, yes, of course, I was just—”
His mouth covered hers and he sunk into her, rapidly piercing the thin membrane.
She flinched, then lay perfectly still.
“I’m sorry,” he spoke quietly in her ear but May didn’t even hear him. She was too wrapped up in the feel of Hunter. He was inside her and it was…it was…precisely as she had imagined.
Giving her time to adjust to him, he brushed his lips across her slightly parted mouth, back and forth, laving the seam with his tongue, gently suckling on her lower lip.
“Hunter,” she uttered tremulously.
“I know, honey. I know.” He kissed her deeply.
When he began to gently move in her, May cried into his mouth, small sounds of feminine pleasure that made it very difficult for him to maintain his control. She was driving him crazy. His body was telling him hard and fast, but his mind was cautioning him to slow and easy.
A sweat broke out across his brow but he held to his guarded tempo.
It was May who finally changed the pace.
Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and her legs securely around his waist, she hugged him to her, her uneven voice shyly beseeching him, “More?”
It was the sexiest thing he had ever heard in his life. Hunter groaned out loud. And gave her more. Much more.
He drove into her with strength and power, releasing the passion he previously held in check for her sake. May went right along with him, encouraging him, begging him, commending him, in the unintelligible words of lovers which always spoke volumes.
A pounding, building tempest overtook her, lifting her higher and higher. It was extraordinary…she was pulsing everywhere and she wanted to—had to
“Let go, sweetheart, let it go,” Hunter rasped, guiding her even as he took her.
May cried out and let go and everything simply exploded around her. He thrust into her deep and clutching her to him, he covered her mouth with his own, joining her in a powerful release. May was intensely aware of the moment, of Hunter, of their joining.
It was a special gift that she would treasure forever; he had given her what every woman dreams of, hopes for. He had made the reality of her first time a true fantasy. And she would love him forever for it.
Hunter smiled tenderly down at her. He kissed the edge of her temple, feathering her jawline with tiny nibbles. “It looks like my May Bea didn’t.” He teased her softly. “How did you write all those love scenes?”
May kissed his chin. “Writers don’t do everything they write about, Hunter.”
He thought about that. “True. If Rex Stevens did half the stuff he wrote about, he’d have gotten the electric chair twenty times over.”
She nodded. “We only wish we could.”
He laughed against her throat. Then nuzzled her collarbone.
May sighed contentedly. Lovemaking was all that it was cracked up to be. And it was exactly the way she had written it countless times.
Incongruously, a large grin broke across her face. “Mmm, Hunter?”
Expecting to see a sexy, satisfied look on her face, Hunter was amazed to see a ridiculously huge smile. Confounded, he gave her a questioning look.
“I am a terrific writer!” She beamed up at him.
Oh-oh. It was another of those “writer” references that had a tendency to be non sequiturs. He had always marveled when he had seen two writers talking together; they always seemed to understand each other. It was the damnedest thing.
Well, Hunter had no idea what her being a good writer had to do with this, but he nodded as if he understood just the same.
He snuggled back into her neck.
And reached for another foil packet.
“Champ?” she whispered teasingly a few minutes later.
“Uh-uh.” Smiling, he nipped the curve of her neck.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Benny woke them up Christmas morning.
The little dog was barking and dancing around the bed, trying desperately to get Hunter to pay attention to him.
They both groaned.
Hunter had made love to May the entire night and they were both exhausted.
“What’s the matter with him?” May mumbled sleepily. “Does he have to go out?”
“I don’t think so—I just let him out a few hours ago.” Hunter yawned, then leaned over May so he could see Benny over the edge of the bed. “Wuzza matter, fellah?”
Benny wagged his tail and barked twice. Then he trotted to the front door, looking over his shoulder to see if Hunter was following him.
“I guess he does have to go out.” Hunter rolled over May to get out of bed.
“Hunter!” she complained.
The corner of his mouth lifted crookedly in a smile and he bent over to kiss her nose. “Sorry.” Naked, he padded after Benny.
May got a very nice view. She crossed her arms over her chest to watch the show. “Anytime,” she murmured to herself.
“C’mon, Benny, we gotta go out the back door—too much snow out there.” Hunter started for the door off the kitchen but the wiener dog wouldn’t budge from the front door. He stuck his long nose near the bottom crack and sniffed all along the edge
, his tail wagging excitedly.
“What is it do you suppose?” May asked.
Hunter scratched his chin. “I don’t know. But he thinks there’s something out there.” Hunter walked over to where the dachshund was standing and carefully opened the front door.
As he suspected, snow was piled three feet deep on the porch and there was noplace to go.
“See, boy? Nothing there—”
Benny dived head first into the snowbank.
“Hey!” Hunter lunged after him, trying to retrieve him before he lost sight of the thumping tail.
He pulled Benny back out; the dog had a piece of cloth clamped in his jaws and was tugging furiously.
Curious, May squinted to get a better look. “What does he have in his mouth?”
“It’s the sack!”
“What sack?”
“The sack of gifts I was carrying when I came up here. I forgot all about it. I must have dropped it on the porch.” Hunter released Benny, putting him behind him; then he yanked the material, trying to loosen the large bag from under the snowdrift.
It came free suddenly, and both Hunter and the sack came hurtling into the room. May giggled.
Hunter regained his balance and gave her a look.
“Well, it is funny, Hunter; I mean, you are naked.”
Shivering, he closed the door. “Not for long—it’s c-o-o-l-d.” He snatched up his shorts and T-shirt, putting them on.
Benny started circling the bag excitedly, yapping his head off.
“Now what?”
May found her nightgown scrunched down at the foot of the bed. She was still buttoning it when she came beside him. “What’s in there?”
“Just gifts I was supposed to deliver.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a red package with a big white bow. A small tag dangled from the top.
Benny barked louder.
“To Joanna,” Hunter read the tag, “Merry Christmas from Santa Claus.”
Benny sat up, waving his front paws madly.
“I think he wants you to open it.”
Hunter shrugged. “Why not?” He unwrapped the gift. A huge grin filled his face.
“What is it?” May looked at him inquiringly.
Hunter reached in the box and held up a plate of candied sweet potatoes.
May’s eyes glazed over. “Hunter.”
“Woof!” Benny concurred.
“That’s why he was barking, he could smell the food.”
“Do you think it’s still okay?”
Hunter dipped his finger in the sauce and licked it off. “Mmmm-hmmm. Natural Maine refrigeration. It’s perfect.”
May rushed over. “Open up the others, quick!”
Hunter grabbed the next package. “To Alicia, Happy Holidays courtesy of Ingles Delicatessen, where Katya and Rolph say every bite of our food tastes like a little bit of magic.” This one held a scrumptious-looking pecan pie.
May and Hunter’s eyes met above the plate.
In the next instant they were both diving for the boxes, tearing the wrappings open.
“To Jennifer…” May opened a tray of assorted hors d’oeuvres.
“To Chris…” Hunter held up a tureen of creamed pearl onions.
“This one is to Ted…” May pulled out a pair of bay-berry candles and holders.
“For Richard, Happy Chanukah…” A dish of giant potato pancakes. They both licked their lips.
Next came a box of dog biscuits with “Benny’s favorite” taped to the box. Hunter tossed him one, then reached in the bag to get the biggest gift out.
“To Johnny…” They both held their breath as he unwrapped it. It was a big Christmas ham.
May ran into the kitchen to get some plates and silverware. Hunter took the quilt off the bed and spread it before the fire. They were going to have Christmas dinner.
Soon they were seated before the fire feasting on the riches they had found.
May looked at the wonderful food before her, the sweet puppy lying contentedly by the fire, chewing on his ham-bone, and the man next to her, who against all expectations had turned into a real-life hero.
Her eyes filled with moisture. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had, Hunter.”
He put his fork down to cover her hand with his. “Me, too, May.”
They came together to kiss.
“Casper?” She planted a soft kiss next to his dimple.
“No, honey.”
May sat back on her haunches. “Then what is it?”
Hunter grinned at her. “Christopher,” he said nonchalantly.
“Christopher? But that’s a nice name!” She was indignant.
He laughed. “I never said it wasn’t, Ms. Bea. That was your idea.”
“No wonder you had on a Santa suit,” she grumbled. “With that name you were a shoo-in. How come you don’t use it?”
“My grandfather’s name is also Christopher. It got too confusing at family get-togethers.”
As simple as that. No wonder he wasn’t a writer. A writer would have a much better story than that.
However, flights of fancy notwithstanding, she was absolutely crazy about the publisher.
Hunter reached over, his hand clasping her about the neck. “You know what?” Their noses were almost touching.
“What?” she purred.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
May blinked, stunned.
“Know what else?” he went on unperturbed.
“N-no.”
“I think you love me, too.”
A writer and a publisher? How existential… May’s thoughts were interrupted by his next question.
“Know what else?”
May shook her head.
“I predict that you and I will be here next Christmas and we’ll be old married folks.” He stopped to stare at her poignantly. “What do you think of that, May?”
She did not have to think. “Mmmm, I just love sequels…” May closed the small distance between them.
After they ate, May went to store the leftovers in the refrigerator and Hunter was picking up in the room. He had already replaced the quilt on the bed and was in the process of folding the large cloth sack when a small card floated out of the bag to fall at his feet.
Thinking it was a tag that had fallen off a gift, he bent down to retrieve it and was about to throw it away when he spotted his name on the front of it. Gingerly he opened it and read:
To Hunter,
It seems Benny and you are a perfect match. The other half of your gift is a lifelong one—something you’ve been needing for a long time. Remember, it only comes from following the “directions” exactly. Merry Christmas.
Your Friend, the Old Coot
P.S. It’s a good thing I have an extra suit.
A cold sweat broke across Hunter’s brow. He suddenly remembered the names of some of those nurses in the hospital. Nurse B. Litzen? Nurse Donner? And that little red-haired one…Rudy.
No way.
What about that deli that supplied all those gifts for the children? Katya and Rolph Ingles…K. & R. Ingles…Kringles?
It couldn’t be.
At that moment May came back to the room. Seeing his ashen expression, she asked, “Is something wrong, Hunter?”
He rubbed his hand across his face. Who would believe it? “No, everything is fine, sweetheart. C’mere, Benny.” He patted his leg so the dog would come to him.
Benny obediently left his mangled hambone and trotted Hunter’s way.
When the dog was sitting by his feet, Hunter reached down and untied the blue ribbon around the dog’s neck. “Welcome home, boy.” He ruffled the fur on Benny’s head.
Tongue hanging out, Benny gave his new master a look of pure adoration.
The burst of static from the radio surprised both of them. “Hey, Douglas, you there?” It was the sheriff’s office.
Hunter went over to the radio, flicking the switch. “Yeah, go ahead.”
“I have an urge
nt message from your editorial director.”
Hunter took a deep breath. “Go ahead.”
“She says, ‘Rex’s manuscript arrived last night from Sri Lanka. It’s a knockout. Relax and enjoy the holiday.’”
Hunter was nonplused. Rex had come through. Big time. He actually felt his eyes get damp.
“We should be able to dig you out day after tomorrow,” the sheriff continued.
“That’s okay, Sheriff.” He met May’s eyes. “Take your time.” He switched the radio off.
May beamed at him. “You got your manuscript!”
Hunter hugged her to him. “That and a whole lot more.”
“How romantic!” May gazed up at him, love shining in her eyes. “Oh, Hunter, I absolutely adore you!”
He looked down at May and sighed. Writers. They were the best.
This Year’s Christmas Present
SANDRA HILL
“Few authors can fuse erotica
and drop-dead humor like Hill.”
—Publishers Weekly
NINA BANGS
“Bangs’s wacky tales never disappoint and her
offbeat characters face danger with flair.”
—RT BOOKreviews
DARA JOY
“A bright, shining star.”
—RT BOOKreviews
Copyright
LOVE SPELL®
October 2008
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016
This Year’s Christmas Present copyright © 2008 by Dorchester
Publishing Co., Inc.
“Fever” copyright © 1998 by Sandra Hill
“Man With a Golden Bow” copyright © 2000 by Nina Bangs
“Santa Reads Romance” copyright © 1996 by Dara Joy
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