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obituaries."
She accepted the explanation with a grudging nod, and a tear spilled down her cheek. "I don't want to go through—the memories. Christmas—it just reminds me—last year was—
Christmas sucks."
"Christmas sucked last year," he said. "This year it's time to start over. Christmas is about birth, beginnings, hope, light in the darkness—all that good stuff. And presents. Don't you want presents? And parties? And lights and music, and trees and all the good stuff."
"You sound like Alice."
"She's a soprano, I'm a baritone. But if she's trying to get you back into the world, she's right." Harry loved life, he loved the world. He ached to show Marj that the world was beautiful again. "Hiding is only a temporary refuge."
"Who says?"
"Me. You need to remember you're alive."
Then he kissed her. There was simply nothing else he could do. What surprised him was the passionate hunger of her response and the way her mouth opened eagerly beneath his. The salt taste of her tears was on his tongue, her lips soft. The heat of her body and the scent of her skin went to his head.
His hands moved down her back, caressing and drawing her nearer. He sensed her surprise at her own reactions, that a part of her was fighting to gain control.
Oh, no, what this woman needed was a good loss of control.
What he needed was her.
He broke the kiss long enough to literally sweep Marj off her feet. She was so much smaller that holding her in his arms was easy. And cradling her against his chest was the most natural thing in the world.
"What the—"
He swung around and started out of the living room. "I'm not making love in front of the dogs," he declared.
Taffy and Noel were standing nearby, gazing at them with the sort of enthusiastic doggy attention that said they wanted to play, too. He almost regretted leaving the living room, with the romantic holiday air he'd created with the tree, the soft candlelight and cozy fire. But they could make love there later. Right now, he wanted the comfortable intimacy of her big, wide bed.
Harry carried her all the way to her bedroom, and Marj was shocked at herself for not protesting once. This man was little more than a stranger! Yet his kiss did something to stem the aching loneliness. She desperately needed his kisses, and more.
She's spent a year in hell, and somehow, Harry held out the promise of heaven.
She shouldn't want him so badly that her body ached with the need. But she'd wanted him since she'd first seen him in Murphy's.
Everything female in her had woken up and caught fire at the first sight of his eagle-nosed profile, the heavy lock of hair falling across his forehead, the sexy slash of his mouth, the wide shoulders and narrow hips. His smile, his confidence… his hands. Good God, what gorgeous, big, competent hands! She'd noticed them from the start. And wanted them on her from the start.
She wanted them on her now.
When he dosed the bedroom door and set her on the bed, she pulled him down beside her. He came with a smile, and a burning kiss that left her breathless.
"Touch me," she said, placing his hand on her breast. "Here. Everywhere."
"I will," he promised.
He stroked her then, and slowly peeled her clothes away. His lips followed where his hands explored, and she caressed him. His hard-muscled body was a wonder to her. It was a long time since she'd been with anyone, but even if she'd been more experienced, Harry was still a revelation. She was amazed at how bold she could be with him, how greedy she was to touch and taste and claim every inch of him. She took great pleasure in exploring his body, loosening his clothes as she went. His turtleneck came off first. She liked his chest, with its well-defined muscles and pattern of dark hair that arrowed down in a vee to his flat stomach.
"You work out," she said, and traced her hands over him.
"Nope," he answered. "You are so beautiful," he told her.
"I work out. Well, I lift a lot of bags of animal
She accepted the explanation with a grudging nod, and a tear spilled down her cheek. "I don't want to go through—the memories. Christmas—it just reminds me—last year was—
Christmas sucks."
"Christmas sucked last year," he said. "This year it's time to start over. Christmas is about birth, beginnings, hope, light in the darkness—all that good stuff. And presents. Don't you want presents? And parties? And lights and music, and trees and all the good stuff."
"You sound like Alice."
"She's a soprano, I'm a baritone. But if she's trying to get you back into the world, she's right." Harry loved life, he loved the world. He ached to show Marj that the world was beautiful again. "Hiding is only a temporary refuge."
"Who says?"
"Me. You need to remember you're alive."
Then he kissed her. There was simply nothing else he could do. What surprised him was the passionate hunger of her response and the way her mouth opened eagerly beneath his. The salt taste of her tears was on his tongue, her lips soft. The heat of her body and the scent of her skin went to his head.
His hands moved down her back, caressing and drawing her nearer. He sensed her surprise at her own reactions, that a part of her was fighting to gain control.
Oh, no, what this woman needed was a good loss of control.
What he needed was her.
He broke the kiss long enough to literally sweep Marj off her feet. She was so much smaller that holding her in his arms was easy. And cradling her against his chest was the most natural thing in the world.
"What the—"
He swung around and started out of the living room. "I'm not making love in front of the dogs," he declared.
Taffy and Noel were standing nearby, gazing at them with the sort of enthusiastic doggy attention that said they wanted to play, too. He almost regretted leaving the living room, with the romantic holiday air he'd created with the tree, the soft candlelight and cozy fire. But they could make love there later. Right now, he wanted the comfortable intimacy of her big, wide bed.
Harry carried her all the way to her bedroom, and Marj was shocked at herself for not protesting once. This man was little more than a stranger! Yet his kiss did something to stem the aching loneliness. She desperately needed his kisses, and more.
She's spent a year in hell, and somehow, Harry held out the promise of heaven.
She shouldn't want him so badly that her body ached with the need. But she'd wanted him since she'd first seen him in Murphy's.
Everything female in her had woken up and caught fire at the first sight of his eagle-nosed profile, the heavy lock of hair falling across his forehead, the sexy slash of his mouth, the wide shoulders and narrow hips. His smile, his confidence… his hands. Good God, what gorgeous, big, competent hands! She'd noticed them from the start. And wanted them on her from the start.
She wanted them on her now.
When he dosed the bedroom door and set her on the bed, she pulled him down beside her. He came with a smile, and a burning kiss that left her breathless.
"Touch me," she said, placing his hand on her breast. "Here. Everywhere."
"I will," he promised.
He stroked her then, and slowly peeled her clothes away. His lips followed where his hands explored, and she caressed him. His hard-muscled body was a wonder to her. It was a long time since she'd been with anyone, but even if she'd been more experienced, Harry was still a revelation. She was amazed at how bold she could be with him, how greedy she was to touch and taste and claim every inch of him. She took great pleasure in exploring his body, loosening his clothes as she went. His turtleneck came off first. She liked his chest, with its well-defined muscles and pattern of dark hair that arrowed down in a vee to his flat stomach.
"You work out," she said, and traced her hands over him.
"Nope," he answered. "You are so beautiful," he told her.
"I work out. Well, I lift a lot of bags of animal
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