Read Online Any Given Christmas by Candis Terry - Free Book Online Page B

paws into the soft mounds of her breasts and kneaded. His subsequent purr spoke volumes, and Dean completely understood. “I’ve never been much of a cat person.”
    “Most men aren’t.”
    Dean eased his arms from his parka and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “We’re not going to launch into another men-like-me conversation again, are we?”
    She stroked the cat between the ears. “I’ll do my best to refrain.”
    Golden flames licked at the pine logs in the corner woodstove. Dean glanced around and tried to see past the garland, twinkling lights, and poinsettias to find the true character of the room. Antiques, white furniture, an iron bird cage filled with glittery holiday foliage.
    Definitely chickville.
    It smelled good, too. Like a girl. All soft and powdery fresh with a hint of sugar cookie. As Emma moved a shoebox full of ornaments off the sofa to make a spot for him to sit, he wondered if she tasted as good as she smelled.
    “Would you care for something to drink?” If the rigidness of her shoulders was any indication, he made her very tense. She set Oscar down on the floor. The cat flicked its tail and the bells dangling from his sweater jingled.
    “Scotch?”
    “Sorry. The strongest I have is a bottle of cooking wine. All I have is some hot chocolate, herbal tea, or water.” She brushed her hands down the very nice curves of her waist and hips. His eyes tracked every move.
    “I’m good.” He ignored the look she gave him that clearly said she doubted him and was wondering why he didn’t just go ahead and leave.
    And why didn’t he?
    “I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he said. “Go ahead with what you were doing.”
    “Are you sure?”
    He nodded. A long sigh lifted her breasts against that pink tank top and Dean was glad, for the moment, he was sitting down. He watched as she removed a shiny red choo-choo train from the shoebox and threaded a wire hanger through the ribbon on top. She hung it toward the middle of the tree then reached for a shiny white ballerina slipper.
    “Those ornaments look like family treasures,” he said, while the growling cat at his feet stared up at him as if he were a giant mouse.
    “They are. Most of them are from when I was a little girl. My Memaw—”
    “Your who?”
    “My grandmother. She bought a new ornament for me each year.”
    “My mom did the same for all of us.”
    “Oh, that’s nice. Do you put them on your tree?”
    Hell, he never bothered to get a tree because he was rarely home during the holidays. In December the race for the Super Bowl heated up and the Stallions rarely had a home game. “No. They’re still at my parent’s house, stuck in a box somewhere.”
    “Hmmm.” She turned her attention back to the tree and hooked the slipper onto a lower branch. Then she reached into the box again.
    Hmmm? What was that supposed to mean?
    “This is my favorite.” She lifted a glass star and laid it across her palm as if it were precious and fragile. “Memaw had a glassblower friend who made amazing globes and vases. She made this topper the year I was born. It’s been on my tree ever since.”
    “Can I see it?”
    She eased her hand toward him. He studied the delicate piece, then looked up at her. “You’ve mentioned your grandmother, but not your mother. Has she passed?”
    She shook her head and scooted a footstool closer to the tree. “I don’t know. She took off right after I was born. I’ve never actually met her. I don’t know if she’s dead or alive. And I really don’t care either way.”
    The tight quality to her voice said she cared a lot. Dean thought it was too bad that her mother hadn’t stuck around. She’d probably be pretty proud of her daughter.
    Before Emma could climb up onto the stool, Dean stood. “Let me help you with that.” His fingers brushed against the soft skin of her hand as he took the ornament and carefully slipped it onto the very top of the tree. That small contact did something odd to his