Kiss Me for Christmas Read online

  “Mum, you’ve set three places.”

  “Have I?” Irene looked at the table. “I’m sorry, I must have been muddled.”

  “It’s only you and me. You know that.”

  “Of course, dear. I’ll change it now.”

  But when they sat down, there were still three placemats, three sets of cutlery, and three wineglasses at the table. A pair of silver candlesticks held festive red candles. Anna put the chicken in the center of the table, with dishes of steaming vegetables, roasted potatoes, gravy, and bread sauce all around. Shiny confetti of golden bells and green holly was scattered across the pure white tablecloth.

  Anna lit the candles. Irene smiled at her with shining eyes. “It’s all so beautiful, dear.”

  Anna returned her smile and raised her glass. “Happy Christmas to us.”

  Irene lifted her glass but held it, waiting. The doorbell rang.

  Anna frowned. “Who would that be on Christmas Day?”

  Irene put her glass down. “I think you’d better let him in, dear.”

  It couldn’t be. He was spending Christmas with his sister and his family. He’d said so. It wasn’t until she opened the door and saw him standing there, red-faced from the cold, that she dared to let herself hope.

  “Hugh. Oh, Hugh.” She fell into his arms, pressing herself tightly against him and burying her face in the deep warmth of his chest. His strong, reassuring hug was the best Christmas present she could have asked for. He held her close, then tilted her face up to his.

  “Merry Christmas, darling.” His kiss was soft and tender. Anna tangled her hands in his dark hair, pulling him closer. They clung to each other until Anna was forced to break away and take a breath.

  “Why are you here?”

  He looked down at her, eyes full of warmth. “Where else would I be?”

  “But what about your sister? And your family?”

  “I popped in this morning and gave out all my presents. But once I’d told Polly about you, I had to tell my mother, and my aunts, and various other assorted female relatives. They practically pushed me out of the door. They’re looking forward to meeting you, by the way.”

  “I still don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

  “Having Christmas dinner, I hope. Your mother assured me there would be plenty.”

  “My mother? Hugh.” Anna put her hands on her hips. “Have you been scheming behind my back?”

  With an apologetic look, he said, “A little. I phoned yesterday afternoon and spoke to her.”

  “You could have spoken to me!”

  “I wanted to surprise you. Do you really mind?”

  Anna shook her head. “No. I don’t mind. Come in.”

  “Great. Hold on a second.”

  He went back to his car and picked up something large and heavy. Another present?

  Anna held the door open and let Hugh carry the box into the sitting room. “What is it?”

  “I’ll tell you after dinner. We should eat before the food gets cold. Hello, Irene.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “Happy Christmas.”

  “Happy Christmas.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “Hugh.”

  “That’s right. I’m sorry I was a bit later than we planned. This all looks delicious, by the way. Who should I thank?” He looked between mother and daughter.

  “Joint effort,” said Anna.

  “Anna,” said Irene at the same moment.

  Hugh laughed. “I’ll thank you both, then. Why haven’t you pulled the crackers yet?” He picked up the shiny red Christmas cracker from his side plate and offered the other end to Irene. They pulled so hard the cracker burst with a bang and the silly trinkets flew out. Hugh got down on hands and knees to pick up the plastic spinning top, which had ended up under the table. Unfolding the red-and-green paper hat, he solemnly placed it on Irene’s head.

  “Beautiful,” he pronounced. He turned to Anna. “Now for you, gorgeous. How many glasses of wine have you had, by the way?”

  “This is my second. Why?”

  “No reason. I think I’d better fill you up again.”

  They finished lunch and cleared away in time to watch the Queen’s speech. Anna switched off the TV after the National Anthem and turned to Hugh. “Are you going to tell us what’s in that box now?”

  “I certainly am.” He opened up the box and pulled out a large black speaker with a microphone attached. He raised a challenging eyebrow at Anna. “What do you think? Have you got enough Dutch courage, or should I mix up a batch of office-party punch?”

  “Karaoke.” She shook her head in disbelief.

  “Anna loves to sing,” Irene said innocently.

  “Excellent. I’ve heard you like to sing as well, Irene. Do you want to start us off?”

  The three of them, still in their paper crowns, made an oddly matched group. Irene warbled a clear soprano line. Anna’s own voice was deeper, while Hugh had a bellowing bass. But they were having fun, Anna realized. Just as she and Mum had enjoyed singing together in the kitchen, it seemed right that the three of them should sing together now.

  Hugh put on a Christmas track, and they galloped through carols and Christmas songs. Finally, Hugh selected the song Anna had been dreading.

  It was corny and cheesy, but the lyrics captured everything she’d been feeling all day. The presents were lovely, the food had been good, but the only thing she wanted for Christmas was Hugh. He’d had several glasses of wine with lunch, so he wouldn’t be able to drive home. She could suggest he stay the night. She could offer him the pullout bed in the sitting room…or she could offer to share her bed.

  Just one night with Hugh wasn’t what she wanted, but it was more than she’d hoped for. If things were different— She shook her head. She couldn’t let herself think like that. She wouldn’t change the choices she’d made.

  So she’d just enjoy what she could.

  Chapter Nine

  Hugh hoped Anna was getting the message. He didn’t care that she hadn’t given him a present. He didn’t care about the dinner or the karaoke. He only cared that Anna had let him in. She’d welcomed him into her home and her family.

  He just hoped she was letting him into her heart.

  Once Irene was snoozing comfortably on the sofa, Hugh stood and took Anna’s hand. “Come into the kitchen. I want to talk to you.”

  “Talk?” she said with a cheeky grin.

  “Talk first.”

  “Enjoy the moment first,” Anna replied, winding her arms around his neck and making her point very firmly. She tasted of Christmas—sherry trifle and mince pies—and she felt like heaven. She made him forget where they were and what he wanted to say. He closed his arms around Anna’s waist and kissed her in earnest.

  “Talk now,” he said, when he had a chance to catch his breath and remember his own name. “Please, Anna.”

  “Okay, talk.” She didn’t let go, but she dropped her hands to his waist and gave him a little space.

  He looked into her deep brown eyes, and his heart swelled. He loved her. He loved her so much. He had to get this right, for his sake as well as hers.

  “I love you.” He hadn’t quite intended to blurt it out like that, but it was as good a place to start as any.

  He’d thought it through over and over again in the last couple of weeks and, in the end, it had been easy. He wanted Anna. He loved Anna. He always had. Seeing her with Irene—her patience and her courage—had only made him realize how he’d always felt about her. There were risks and there might be heartache, but there was only one answer.

  Anna.

  He said it again, more confidently. “I love you.” Her eyes widened, but she still didn’t say anything.

  “I love you, Anna.” A third time, to be sure she knew he meant it.

  “I…I heard you the first time.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Well. That’s it, I suppose. I wanted to say it. To you. Today.”

  She turned her face away. “I don’t know what you expect
me to say. I wondered if you were going to ask to stay the night.”

  He took her hands in his and held them against his chest. “I’d love to stay the night. Every night. I want to be with you, Anna. I want you.”

  She tried to pull her hands free, but he held on. “You can’t,” she said, her voice choked. “You know what it’s like. I can’t go out in the evenings. I have to be here on weekends. I can’t be with anyone, Hugh. I just can’t.”

  “You can go out if you have someone to stay with Irene. You came to the office party.”

  “I told you—that’s my one treat. The only time in the year when I get to let my hair down.”

  “You have lovely hair.” Especially when she left it loose as she had today, falling in soft curls around her shoulders.

  She flashed him a brief smile. “That’s not the point.”

  “No. The point is that your life would be much easier if you had someone else to help out.”

  “I can’t afford to pay for another care worker. And I wouldn’t even if I could. Mum doesn’t deserve that. I owe it to her to be here as much as I can.”

  He stroked his thumbs soothingly across the backs of her hands. “I’m not talking about another care worker, Anna. I’m talking about me.”

  “You?” She stared up at him in shock. “But you don’t have time to help me. Your job demands even more hours than mine.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’d have time to help if I moved in with you.”

  “But why would you want to do that? You’ve got a perfectly good flat of your own, haven’t you?” Anna shook her head.

  “How many glasses of wine did you have? I didn’t think it would be this complicated. I love you, Anna. I want to move in with you so I can be with you. I want to be a part of your life and, while your mum is living here, a part of hers.”

  “I’m not sending her to a home.”

  “I’m not suggesting you should,” he assured her. “She doesn’t need to be in a home. She’s happy here.”

  “She’s not good with change. I don’t know how she’d cope if someone else moved in.”

  “She likes me,” Hugh pointed out.

  “Yes. Yes, she does.”

  “It wouldn’t be easy; I know that. But I think it would be worth it.”

  Anna looked around the tiny kitchen. “The house isn’t big enough for another person.”

  “I think you’re just making excuses now.”

  She withdrew from him to lean against the counter. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively and admitted, “I’m scared. What if it doesn’t work? What if we break up? How would Mum cope then?”

  He nodded. He’d worried about that, too. “We don’t have to rush into anything.”

  He’d wait as long as she wanted. It was the sensible thing to do. They would both need time to get used to the idea, and so would Irene. But when they were ready for forever, Hugh would be waiting.

  She gave him a rueful smile. “I’m not sure a year is actually rushing.”

  Hugh raised an eyebrow. “So you’re finally admitting that you fancied me at last year’s Christmas party, then?”

  “If we’re being completely honest, I’ve fancied you since I started at the agency.”

  Hugh stepped closer. “You hid it very well.”

  Anna shrugged. “I knew it couldn’t go anywhere, so it seemed easiest to pretend I wasn’t interested.”

  “But you are interested?”

  She looked down at her feet, across to the door, and finally up at Hugh. “I love you. Does that count?”

  He had her in his arms before she’d finished speaking. He kissed her, hard and deep and full of pent-up emotion he hadn’t known was there. Her response was as intense and needy as his. He clung to her so tightly he might never let her go.

  Hugh pressed kisses over Anna’s lips, her cheek, her forehead, her nose, her lips again, settling into their warm embrace. He couldn’t get enough of her. He would never be able to get enough of her. He loved her. She loved him. They loved each other.

  Anna stiffened and ducked her head against his shoulder.

  Hugh turned them both around, not letting go. “Hello, Irene.”

  Irene was smiling happily. “I said he was a nice young man, Anna, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, Mum,” she agreed, blushing fiery red.

  “Do you want to tell her?” Hugh murmured.

  “Hugh’s going to be moving in with us, Mum. Living here. Is that all right?”

  Irene’s eyes lit up. “Hugh,” she said confidently.

  “That’s right.” He opened his arms to her. “Hugh.”

  She let him hug her and give her a warm kiss. She reached across to pat Anna’s cheek. “He’ll take care of you, dear.”

  Hugh slipped his arms around their shoulders. He looked from mother to daughter. “We’ll take care of each other. How about that?”

  Anna smiled up at him, eyes shining with tears. She nodded. “Yes. We’ll all take care of each other.”

  He dropped a kiss to her hair. “That’s all I wanted for Christmas.”

  She looked at her mother, then at Hugh. “All I wanted for Christmas was you.”

  Acknowledgments

  I wouldn’t have written this story without Paula to spur me on, and Mary to tell me what it’s about. It wouldn’t be half as good as it is without the help of Heather and Adrien. And you wouldn’t be reading it if Entangled hadn’t taken a chance on me.

  About the Author

  Ros is a writer, a student, a church worker, a crafter, a blogger, a Twitterer, a lazy gardener, and an appalling house-keeper. She is interested in almost everything except cricket and football (US and UK) and mostly she likes happy endings in fiction and in real life.

  Also by Ros Clarke…

  Table for One

  The Oil Tycoon and Her Sexy Sheikh

  An Unsuitable Husband

  Holly’s First Noel

  Faye Robertson

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by Faye Robertson. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Lovestruck is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Heather Howland

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition December 2011

  To Tony & Chris, my Kiwi boys

  Chapter One

  “I’m moving out.”

  Holly gripped the mobile phone tightly and stared at the classroom before her with blind eyes, struggling to make sense of his words. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” Jackson sounded impatient. Jackson was always impatient. It was his default setting, which was the main reason she’d answered the phone even though she was in class, knowing he’d continue to call until she did so. But then he always assumed he took precedence over whatever else she happened to be doing at the time. “I’ve packed up my stuff,” he continued matter-of-factly, as if he were telling her he’d picked up the bread and milk she’d asked him to get after work. “I’ll be gone before you get home.”

  In front of her, the class of teenagers created a cacophony of sound with their glockenspiels, the noise sounding exactly like the collision of thoughts and emotions inside her. She turned away, walked into the storeroom, and stared out the window. The weatherman had forecast snow for a magical Christmas, but in her hometown of Devon, the English day remained stubbornly wet and dreary. Presumably, her expression was beginning to look equally as bleak.


  “You can’t!” Her brain was cloudy with bewilderment. “I’ve already made it.”

  “What?” His voice grew even more fractious. “Made what?”

  “The Christmas pudding. It’s all ready.”

  Holly could barely make out the sound of teeth being ground. “I don’t care about the Christmas pudding, Holly. Fuck the pudding. I can’t do this anymore. It’s over, and I don’t want to pretend it’s not because it’s the bloody festive season.”

  She went completely cold, then hot, then cold again, all in the space of about ten seconds. “You’re leaving me?”

  He gave an exasperated sigh. “Come on, love. You’re not really surprised, surely? It’s been ages since things have been right between us. We argue all the time. We’ve got nothing in common—you hate the whole lifestyle surrounding the station, and you know teachers bore me rigid.” Jackson was a firefighter. Holly had rather liked the heroic alpha-male thing, and the uniform was kind of a turn on. The drinking, prank-pulling, partying, immature boys-all-together way of life, not so much.

  “I thought we got on well,” she said softly, needing to protest against this casual destruction of her life.

  “Come on, Hol.” His voice turned pleading. “We were fine all the time we were in bed. But can you even remember the last time we slept together?”

  “Of course! It was a Thursday.” She bit her lip as he fell silent. She hadn’t meant to sound so flippant. It was true—they hadn’t had sex for a while. Of course he’d be fed up about it.

  That had to be what all this was about—he was desperate for a shag. He was a bloke, after all.

  She turned from the window and cursed under her breath as she banged an ankle on a rack of tambourines, the clatter discordant, mirroring her nerves. The storeroom was cold, damp, and claustrophobic, giving her the feeling of being in a coffin. She refused to consider how appropriate that felt. Her relationship was not twisting in its death throes.

  She ran a hand through her hair as he heaved another sigh. “Look, I know it’s been difficult lately, but what with the school inspection and getting ready for Christmas…I’ve been tired…”