For My Own: A Contemporary Christmas Anthology Read online

  “After LA, San Francisco was a welcome change,” Nick said, noting how deliberately and smoothly she’d changed the topic. He wasn’t surprised. Even when they were teenagers, she’d avoided discussing her parents.

  “Why the move from LA?”

  “A buddy of mine from college decided to start his own agency. He asked me if I wanted in as a partner and by that time I knew that Southern California wasn’t where I wanted to be so I took him up on it.” He smiled, remembering the night he and Adam had shook hands on their new venture—at a Lakers game. “We had a rough start and a few lean years, but now we’re doing very well.”

  “I read in the Union article last year that you represent J.T. Sawyer, and that you’d recently signed Trey Gentry. That’s a big deal. 60 Minutes did a segment on him a few years ago. He was the most sought-after baseball prospect in years.”

  Nick thought of Trey and his penchant for hard partying and fast women. A year in the big leagues and all the adulation that came with it had changed the star pitcher, and not for the better. Lately, Nick’s entire focus had been on trying to keep his young phenom in line. Not an easy feat.

  “Signing Trey was a coup,” Nick acknowledged. “We’ve moved up on the list of elite agencies.”

  “I couldn’t be happier for you.” Her smile was genuine, a refreshing change from some of the women he’d dated. Maybe he was jaded, but it seemed that the more successful he’d become the harder it was to meet down-to-earth women like Carrie. “You’ve managed to turn your love of sports into a rewarding career.”

  “And you seem to have found one as well.” He reached for his wineglass. It was time to find out what he really wanted to know. “What about your personal life? Is there anyone special?”

  “My last relationship ended in February.” She tilted her head and treated him to an inquisitive look. “How about you? Anyone special in your life?”

  “No.” Nick sipped his wine. He wasn’t one to go after another man’s woman; hearing Carrie was unattached was excellent news. And since he was going to be in Grass Valley for almost a month, there was plenty of time for them to get to know each other again.

  Carrie gave him a sly smile. “Alicia Walsh’s divorce is final. Maybe you should look her up.”

  Nick choked on his wine, coughing as it went down the wrong way. He put his glass down. “Why the hell would I do that?” he asked after clearing his throat.

  “You did have that big crush on her. I bet if she saw you now she’d regret giving you the cold shoulder in high school.”

  “I haven’t thought about her that much since I left town,” Nick admitted. “And if I had any sense at all back then I would have realized she wasn’t worth my time.”

  Carrie let out a soft snort. “I could have told you that.”

  “Why didn’t you? You let me go on and on about her like the stupid fool I was.”

  “You weren’t stupid.” Her eyes softened. “And I listened because...because that’s what friends do.”

  “You were the only girl I could talk to back then without stuttering.” Nick grinned. “You were easy to talk to.”

  “That’s because you weren’t attracted to me,” she said as their waiter approached with their order.

  As the waiter placed their plates in front of them, Nick couldn’t take his eyes off Carrie’s beautiful face. She was right; he hadn’t been attracted to her back then. But that had changed—fourteen years later, he was most definitely attracted to Carrie Jones.

  Chapter Three

  “We should take a drive over to Nevada City Wednesday night,” Nick suggested to Carrie as they walked along Mill Street toward his SUV. “I haven’t been to their Victorian Christmas celebration in years.”

  Carrie wrapped her arms around her midriff, hugging her coat closer to ward off the memories. Although thrilled Nick wanted to see her again, the thought of spending a night among holiday revelers wasn’t high on her to-do list. Why couldn’t she be normal like everyone else? She wasn’t a shrink, but it didn’t take a psychiatrist to know why she felt the way she did. The Christmas season had always been the worst time of the year in her house—there was something about the holidays that had triggered something deep and dark within her father.

  “How about it?” Nick asked as they stopped beside the SUV and he hit the remote to unlock the doors. “If Wednesday doesn’t work, we can do it next week.”

  “I can’t.” The glow from the street lamps, as well as the Christmas lights strung along the storefronts, made it easy to see the confusion in his eyes. “I’d love to see you again,” she added quickly. “But I’m not a big fan of Christmas. I—I don’t do holiday stuff.”

  “Like getting a tree,” he said and moved closer to give a couple strolling by hand in hand space to move past them.

  Carrie nodded. “Right.”

  His dark brows knit together. “Is it a religious thing?”

  “No. It’s a Carrie thing.” She looked at the Christmas tree in one of the stores across the street. Covered with ornaments, its multicolored lights shone brightly behind a window edged with white frost. It was exactly the kind of tree she’d wanted when she was ten years old.

  He reached for the door and pulled it open. “Then how about a movie?” His grin was boyish as he made a cross over his heart with his finger. “I swear it won’t be a holiday movie.”

  Letting out a relieved breath, she slid into the SUV. “I’d love that.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Nick pulled his Explorer into her driveway. If he’d noticed every house on the block had Christmas lights except hers, he didn’t say a word. Every year since she’d moved into the house, a few of her neighbors offered to put lights up for her but she’d kindly thanked them and refused their offers. While she realized that the lack of lights detracted from the overall appearance of the block, she still didn’t want them on her house, just like she didn’t want a Christmas tree in her living room or stockings on her mantel.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she said as Nick turned off the ignition. She unbuckled her seat belt. “I had a wonderful time.”

  “Me too.” He released his seat belt and opened his door. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

  As he got out of the car and rounded the front, Carrie couldn’t help the frisson of anticipation that shimmied low in her belly. She hadn’t been on a date—or had sex—since she and Pete broke up, and this was Nick, the star of her teenage fantasies. On more nights than she could count, she’d lain in bed hoping that one day Nick would kiss her and then realize Alicia Walsh was a brainless twit whose only claim to fame was a killer body and a pair of pom-poms. That oft-wished-for kiss had never happened, but maybe it would tonight. Although she was old enough to not feel so darn nervous, she was. It was as if she was seventeen all over again.

  “I’ll call you about Wednesday,” Nick said when they reached her front door. She’d left the outside light on and it cast intriguing shadows over the exquisite perfection of his face. “The new Matt Damon movie is out, have you seen it?”

  “No, but I like all his movies.” Carrie opened her purse and pulled out her keys. She looked up to meet Nick’s gaze. “I recently saw the one where his character buys a zoo. I wasn’t expecting much but it was—” She broke off as his lips twitched in amusement. “What’s so funny?”

  Nick shook his head. “Nothing. I just can’t get over how beautiful you are. And right now I’m mentally kicking my own ass for not seeing that back in high school.”

  He thinks I’m beautiful? Stunned, Carrie almost dropped her keys when he lifted his hand to brush an errant strand of hair from her cheek. His caress was light and brief but still, her body reacted. Warmth surged beneath her skin and, of course, she was blushing.

  Words failed her as he leaned toward her. As his lips touched hers, it was all she could do not to melt into him and forget she didn’t get horizontal on the first date. His mouth was surprisingly gentle and his kiss as brief as the touch of his fingers on her ch
eek. When he pulled back, she opened her eyes and found him gazing at her intensely. A tingle raced up her spine.

  “Another thing I should have done in high school.” A wry smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll see you Wednesday, Jones.”

  * * *

  Early Monday morning, Nick let himself into the kitchen from the back door and found his mother at the kitchen counter pouring coffee into a travel mug. “How was your run?” she asked without looking up.

  Nick closed the door and moved to the refrigerator. “I did three miles,” he said, opening the fridge and reaching for a bottled water. After closing the door, he twisted off the cap and took a long drink. Although it was freezing outside, he’d warmed up pretty quickly and now the kitchen seemed stifling.

  “Did you enjoy your date with Carrie last night?” She returned the pot to the burner on the coffeemaker.

  Nick held back a smile as he set the bottle on the counter, unzipped his fleece sweatshirt then braced his hands on the smooth quartz surface. Hell yes, he’d enjoyed his date with Carrie. In fact, he couldn’t remember a first date he’d had in the past ten years that surpassed it. “I’m seeing her again on Wednesday.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” His mother turned toward him, concern evident in her eyes. “You’re only visiting. Do you want to start something when you’ll be heading back to San Francisco after Christmas?”

  “Mom, Carrie and I are old friends. We’re just catching up.” That wasn’t quite the truth. When he’d kissed Carrie last night, he’d wanted to do a lot more than that. Seeing her again wasn’t just about renewing an old acquaintance. It was about wanting to spend time with her, and if that led to more, well, then he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

  “I heard she’s a paralegal now,” his mom said as she tightened the lid on her travel mug. “Shirley Benson saw her when she went in to have her will drawn up.” She shook her head. “It was such a shame about her father.”

  “Isn’t Shirley’s father dead?” Nick could have sworn he’d gone to the old guy’s funeral when he was in high school.

  “I was talking about Carrie’s father,” she said and grabbed a shiny red apple from a wicker basket on the counter. “He committed suicide.”

  Nick’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “I thought I mentioned it to you,” she replied with a frown as she opened her lunch tote and shoved the apple inside. “It was Christmas Eve about six or seven years ago.”

  “Holy shit,” Nick muttered after his mother left the kitchen to get her coat and gloves. “No wonder she hates Christmas.”

  * * *

  “I still haven’t received your RSVP for the Christmas party,” Gillian said as she stuck her head inside Carrie’s small office.

  Carrie looked up from the trust document she was working on and manufactured a smile. “I guess I forgot.”

  Gillian rolled her eyes. “How could you when I remind you every day?”

  Carrie smiled for real this time. “I promise I’ll let you know soon.”

  “I’m holding you to that.” Gillian moved into the office. “What time is Nick picking you up?”

  “At seven.” Carrie checked the time on her computer. It was almost five—quitting time. She saved the trust document file and swiveled her chair around to retrieve her purse from the drawer.

  “You should bring him to the party. Didn’t you tell me he’d be here through the holidays?”

  “Yes.” Carrie set her purse on the desk and kicked the drawer closed with her foot. “But I’m sure he has better things to do than attend a party with people he doesn’t know.”

  “He knows you,” Gillian persisted. “And believe it or not, when you get some of these people out of the office they’re a fun bunch.”

  “Seriously? Even McCoy?” Carrie couldn’t picture the dour attorney cracking a smile, let alone knocking back a few and letting loose.

  “Even McCoy.”

  After Gillian left her office, Carrie turned off her computer and then checked her cell phone. The voicemail icon indicated she had a message. Thinking it might be Nick with a change in plans, she pressed the play button.

  “Hi, kiddo.” Carrie tensed at the sound of her mother’s voice. Please, God, not another drunken voicemail. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve called but there’s something I need to talk to you about. If you have some time, please give me a call.” A long silence ensued before her mother continued. “It’s important.”

  Carrie deleted the message and shoved her phone back into her purse. She’d return the call, but not tonight. Whatever her mother had to say could wait. Surprisingly, her mother hadn’t sounded like she’d been drinking. Liz Jones was what Carrie called a sentimental drunk. Unlike her father, who’d been a mean drunk. But whether her mother had been drinking or not, talking to her around the holidays only reminded Carrie of the one thing in life she knew to be true.

  Nothing good ever happened at Christmas.

  * * *

  As the credits rolled on the big screen in the theater, Nick wasn’t nearly ready for the evening to end. All throughout the movie, Carrie’s soft sexy fragrance had surrounded him, making him acutely aware of her. And like a damn kid in high school, he’d sat next to her wondering if he should put his arm around her or not. What the hell was up with that? He wasn’t the same shy teenager he’d been back in high school. He’d dated several women since he’d left Grass Valley, but none of them had elicited such a visceral reaction out of him.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked her when the theater lights went on and the other patrons began filing out. “I was thinking we could get some coffee and maybe dessert.”

  “I never turn down dessert,” Carrie said, shooting him an impish grin before reaching for her jacket on the seat next to her.

  * * *

  There was one thing to be said about San Francisco, most places in the city didn’t close down at 6 p.m. Fifteen minutes later, Nick sat across from Carrie in the one coffee establishment still open after ten—Starbucks.

  “I imagine Grass Valley seems somewhat tame after San Francisco,” Carrie said before taking a sip of her cappuccino.

  “You could say that.” Nick let his gaze roam around the room. Besides him and Carrie, the only other customer was a pudgy twenty-something guy, with a mop of curly blond hair, enthralled by the open laptop on his table. It was a far cry from the Starbucks near his house in the Richmond district, which was packed no matter what time of day Nick dropped by.

  “Have you ever thought of moving back here?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Not all of my clients live in the Bay Area, and since I do a fair bit of traveling, it’s easier to fly in and out of SFO.”

  “Look at you.” Carrie eased back and regarded him with undisguised admiration. “Nick Johnson, hotshot sports agent. I’m not surprised you’re successful, but I’m sure a few of our classmates are.”

  Flattered by her comment, Nick pushed his coffee aside and rested his arms on the table. “What made you so sure I’d be successful?”

  “Are you kidding?” She uttered a soft husky laugh that curled through him like a wave of heat. “You were like a walking encyclopedia of sports. Most of the stuff I know about sports I learned from you. When you told me you wanted to go into sports management I knew you’d do well.”

  Carrie put her cup down and pulled the long purple scarf from around her neck with graceful movements; Nick couldn’t help but notice the lush curves of her breasts. Her black sweater was modest yet somehow much sexier than if she’d been wearing a low-cut top. He imagined what was beneath that sweater and felt a sharp tug of arousal in his groin. Shifting in his chair, he picked up his coffee and tried to think of anything but Carrie Jones naked.

  That was when he remembered her father. Now that he knew how Mr. Jones died, it made perfect sense why Carrie hated the holidays. For him it was the exact opposite. The holidays were his favorite time of the year. Nick supposed he had his mom and dad to th
ank for that. They embraced the season like no one else he’d ever met. And he wasn’t embarrassed to admit that a lot of their enthusiasm had rubbed off on him. As he’d made the long drive from San Francisco to Grass Valley, he’d looked forward to going Christmas tree hunting with his father and then helping his parents trim the tree and decorate the house.

  Although his parents had spent the past several years in San Francisco with him, the ritual was still the same. He’d wait for them to arrive, then they’d go out and search for the perfect tree. It was something Nick could count on, something familiar and traditional. To know that Carrie had a much different experience didn’t sit well with him. There had to be something he could do to show her how magical this time of year could be. Something nonthreatening and enjoyable.

  But what?

  Picking up his coffee, he peered over Carrie’s shoulder at the sparsely decorated Christmas tree near the entrance. As trees went, it wasn’t much. Barely over five feet, it listed to the left so badly he was surprised it hadn’t fallen over. A blind man could have picked out a better-looking tree.

  Nick sipped his coffee to hide his grin. Step one in his plan to give Carrie a Christmas to remember had just popped into his head. And it was brilliant.

  Chapter Four

  “Jones, I have a proposition for you.”

  Although Nick’s words weren’t at all suggestive, the only proposition Carrie could think of at the moment was one that placed her and Nick on her bed, engaged in what could only be described as wild and steamy sex. Hot blood rushed to her cheeks as she met Nick’s attentive gaze.

  Picking up her cappuccino, she took a long sip in order to rein in her wayward thoughts. “What kind of proposition?” she asked after setting her cup on the table.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you told me about not being a fan of the holidays.”

  “What about it?” she asked and hoped he wouldn’t press her for details.