Almost a Christmas Bride Read online

  “Howdy, Shana,” he said, touching his forehead as if tipping a hat.

  “Hey, Dave. How’re you?”

  “I was feelin’ a little down until you walked in. Sure picked up my spirits seeing you, especially since I don’t recall you coming here before.”

  “It’s my first time.”

  “A virgin, huh?”

  Shana hid her wince by taking a swig of her beer rather than answer. “Maybe I could get in on a game?”

  “You play?”

  “Not in years, but I used to be competent.”

  “I’m sure the guys’ll take a seat long enough for you to have a shot at it. C’mon, darlin’.”

  He waited for her to go ahead of him, and she could feel his eyes following her every move. She’d bet he’d stand behind her while she played, too, getting a good look at her butt, trying to throw her off her game if he could.

  He racked the balls and offered her the opening shot with a courtly bow.

  Shana ran the table.

  Kincaid pulled into the parking lot of the Stompin’ Grounds at midnight. He’d been in bed but not asleep when Tom, the bartender/owner, had called saying he thought Kincaid should come drive Shana home before she did something she might regret in the morning.

  “Like what?” Kincaid had asked.

  “She’s only bought two beers the whole night, but the way she’s acting I think maybe she’s been sippin’ off of Big Dave’s, too. She’s just being…rowdy.”

  Kincaid only needed to hear the words “Big Dave.” He was dressed and out of the house in less than a minute. Before he hopped in his truck, he peeled off the magnetic ad signs from his doors, transforming his vehicle into one like many others in the bar’s parking lot. He backed in right next to Shana’s SUV.

  He didn’t have to wait long before the door opened and Shana came out—with Big Dave. And she was looking up at the man and laughing.

  Kincaid gripped the door handle.

  They trudged through the dirt-and-crushed-rock parking lot. Big Dave put his hands on her shoulders and steered her toward her car.

  Kincaid had never seen her laugh so much. It annoyed the hell out of him.

  And he sure wasn’t going to let her car end up in front of Big Dave’s house overnight for all the town to see.

  He climbed out of his truck as they reached Shana’s car.

  “Kincaid,” she said, surprise quickly transforming into a big grin. “Pool table is free, if you’re interested.”

  “She left a lot of shattered egos in there,” Dave said. “She only lost one game all night.”

  “Yeah, well, I was out of practice.”

  Dave guffawed at that.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked Kincaid.

  “I heard through the grapevine that you needed a ride home.”

  “Me? Why? I’ve only had two glasses of beer over four hours. I didn’t even finish the last one. I’m fine. Who called to tell you that?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  She raised her brows but said nothing, probably because Dave was way too curious.

  “I told her I’d see her safely home,” Dave said, his chest puffed up as if daring Kincaid to comment about last weekend’s date debacle.

  “Well, I’m here now. I’ll take over. She is going to my house, after all.”

  “You okay with lord and master here taking over, darlin’?” Dave asked Shana.

  She giggled a little. “Yes. Thanks, Dave. You’ve been a real gentleman.”

  “I aim to please.” He gave her a little salute, but his expression turned smug when he added a good-night to Kincaid. He sauntered off, got in his truck and drove away.

  “Thanks so much for ruining the first fun I’ve had in a long time,” Shana said, crossing her arms, her eyes spitting fire.

  “I got a call. I answered it.”

  “Who called?”

  “Someone who was concerned about you.” He held up a hand as she started to protest. “I won’t tell you, so just give it up. Let’s go.”

  “Did you think I was going home with him?” she asked.

  He walked away, got in his truck, started his engine and waited, grateful that she wasn’t the least bit drunk. When she finally did start her car, he relaxed. Then she took twenty minutes to make the ten-minute drive to his house, meandering through various neighborhoods as if out for a Sunday drive.

  He didn’t find it funny at all. The image of her spending the night with Big Dave ruined his mood.

  Would it matter if it was someone other than Dave? came a loud question in his head.

  “I’m responsible for her,” he muttered as he followed her up his driveway. By the time she’d parked in the garage, he was already in the house. She came through the kitchen door, gave him a cool look then marched toward the stairs.

  “My date last weekend went home with him, then spent the night,” he said.

  “I heard.” She kept climbing the stairs. “I’m not her.”

  “You looked cozy with him.” She’d never laughed with him like that.

  “I was having fun! You stole that from me.” She reached the top of the staircase.

  He was a couple of steps behind her, caught up to her as she went in her bedroom and hurled her purse on the bed, saying, “Get out.”

  “He was touching you.” He’d lost all perspective but couldn’t seem to stop himself.

  “You’ve touched me more.” She threw up her hands. “I have no interest in sleeping with him. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  He moved closer, grateful for her admission, but still not sure he believed her. “I’ve seen for myself just how hot you are.”

  “Only for you!” she shouted.

  Her words had the effect of dynamite blasting inside him.

  She made a sound of frustration, a kind of low growl. She undoubtedly hadn’t intended to tell him that, just as he hadn’t intended to show how jealous he was. But the words were out there now, unchecked.

  What next?

  They stood like duelists, eyeing each other, waiting for someone to make the first move.

  “I really want to sleep with you,” she said as if she were drowning and it was her last breath.

  He didn’t want to give her time to think about it, to see how their relationship would change forever. How, in fact, their relationship could end. But all those logical thoughts swirled in his brain like a tornado, tossing and turning, not connecting to the sensible core of him.

  He reached for her, pulled her close and kissed her. She came back at him without hesitation, demanding, encouraging and arousing. He didn’t have to stop this time, didn’t even have to slow down. He only had to satisfy and be satisfied…?.

  Shana lunged at him, ran her hands over him, struggled to breathe. He tasted like every fantasy she’d had about him, hot and exciting. She dove her fingers into his hair and gripped his head as he unfastened her shirt, then her jeans. Hands were in motion, bodies moving to accommodate, then they were both naked, standing beside her bed.

  “You’re perfect,” he said, low and hushed.

  She’d only been with Richard, and he hadn’t looked anything like Kincaid, whose years of physical labor had given him a sculpted, muscular body. He had broad shoulders, a chest lightly dusted with hair, narrow hips, long, sturdy legs—and the fascinatingly all-male part of him that flattered her with expectation and invitation.

  He didn’t give her time to explore but pulled her down onto the bed and joined with her, filling her, stretching her. Then he went perfectly still, holding his weight off her, his eyes closed, his body shaking. He lowered himself slowly, ducked his head to take her nipple into his mouth. She arched and cupped his head, feeling vibration under her hands from the needy sounds he made.

  And then she stopped noticing anything but the building pressure, the escalating pleasure. He finally began to move. She wrapped her legs around him, matching his rhythm. He sought her mouth with his just as she peaked, the
explosion powerful, like nothing she’d experienced. Then just as she was coming down, he surged, escalated—

  “Wait! Stop!” She tried to push him away. “Kincaid! I’m not on the pill.”

  He pulled out, but he was too far gone. He landed on her, his body taut and still moving, groans of completion coming from him.

  After a few seconds he rolled onto his side. She put a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking…?.”

  “Neither was I.” He was breathing hard, looking a little bewildered. “I assumed, since you’d mentioned birth control before. I should’ve asked.”

  “No, it’s my fault completely. Are you okay?”

  “Okay, how?”

  “You know. Being interrupted like that.” She didn’t know how to ask him about it.

  “You’re blushing,” he said, tracing her cheeks with his fingers, his expression serious. “I have to be honest. There’s a chance I didn’t pull out in time. I can’t tell for sure.”

  “I can’t be pregnant. I just can’t.” How could she prove she’d grown up if she got pregnant out of wedlock again? And this time it would be to a man who didn’t love her. Richard had loved her, would’ve married her in a flash.

  Or would he? She needed to think about that. He’d never brought up marriage except in negative ways. Would having Emma have made a difference?

  Kincaid rubbed her arm. “It won’t be an issue, Shana. We’ll get married.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly, as if it was something simple, when it was anything but. She stalled by pulling up an afghan from the foot of the bed and draping it over them.

  “We won’t know for a couple of weeks. People will count,” she said. Everyone would know.

  “Then we’ll get married tomorrow.”

  “T-tomorrow? But—”

  “But what? Even if people guess, they’ll never know for sure.” He was propped up on an elbow, watching her.

  “You’re talking about marriage as if we’re going to movies and just need to figure which one to see. It’s not that easy. People get married for…” She stopped because the first word that came to mind was love. People get married for love.

  “Lots of reasons,” he said, finishing her sentence.

  “We fight.”

  “We disagree in a lively way.”

  “I have a daughter already.”

  “Who needs a father, don’t you think? Why not me?”

  Emma hadn’t fully accepted him, however, which complicated the issue.

  “In my mind, Shana, pregnancy is an excellent reason to marry, for everyone involved.”

  “I need to think about this.”

  “You can think all you want. It’s not going to change the outcome. My parents never married. That won’t happen to any child of mine.” He got out of bed and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Do your thinking.”

  She got out of bed as soon as he disappeared, shutting herself in the bathroom. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, dragged a warm washcloth down her body. She tried to think, but every thought dead ended. Finally she put on her robe and returned to her bedroom. He was sitting on the side of her bed, naked. Waiting for a decision.

  He shook his head at her, slowly, surely, as he got to his feet and came to her.

  “No robes. No nightgowns. Nothing.” He untied her robe and slipped it off her shoulders, then tossed it aside. He took her hand in his and lead her down the hall.

  It seemed absurd to be walking naked, hand in hand, and yet she clung to him. They reached his bedroom but kept walking into the bathroom. He’d filled his spa tub, the one with the jets she’d been dying to try, particularly now that she was working so hard physically every day.

  He held her hand as she stepped into the tub, then got in behind her. She nestled against him, feeling not just comfortable, but safe. He hit the button to start the jets, and the bubbles instantly began to soothe her fragile nerves. His arms encircled her, his hands coming to rest on her belly. She closed her eyes at the reminder of what the future could hold.

  “I can’t get married without Dixie,” she said.

  His chest hardened, the only clue to the fact he’d had a reaction to what she’d said.

  “Has she said when she’ll be home?”

  “She hopes by Christmas.”

  “That’s two weeks.”

  “I know.”

  “We can’t wait two weeks, not if you want the town to believe you weren’t pregnant when we got married.”

  “I may not be. In fact, I’m probably not. Really, what are the odds?” She was still having a hard time grasping the fact he would so easily marry her, even without knowing whether she was pregnant. What did that mean? Had he fallen for her? She knew he was as attracted physically as she was, but was there more? And if so, why wasn’t he telling her how he felt?

  And how do you feel about him? came an insistent question in her head. She’d come to respect him a great deal, appreciate him and maybe, just maybe, she’d fallen in love with him.

  She’d been thinking about him all night at the bar. How much she wished he’d been there, how she enjoyed his company…how she couldn’t wait to see him every morning and sit with him every evening by the fire. She hadn’t wanted to give in to those feelings—unless he felt the same. And she worried a little that she appreciated so much what he’d done for her, she’d turned it into love in her head.

  But now, lying here in his arms, naked, she knew it wasn’t just appreciation.

  “When can you take one of those home pregnancy tests?” he asked after their long silence.

  “I’m not sure. Probably two weeks, if I haven’t started my period by then, anyway, which would make this all a moot point.”

  “Except that you could be two weeks pregnant by then. And unmarried.”

  He really is pushing marriage, not just suggesting or offering it. He wants to get married. Why?

  At the very least, they needed a cooling-off period, she decided. Everything was happening way too fast for comfort. And she wanted to marry for love.

  “How about this?” she said. “On Christmas Eve, two weeks from today, I’ll do a home test—if it seems necessary at that point. Dixie should be home around then, and if you and I decide marriage is the right thing to do, we’ll get married right away, but with our family and friends in attendance. We won’t elope with just Dixie and Joe as witnesses, okay?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  I want to hear what you really think, what you want to do, not what you think you should do.

  He slid his hands up her body, cupped her breasts. She sucked in a breath as he thumbed her nipples.

  “Stay with me tonight,” he said close to her ear.

  She didn’t have to think about it more than a millisecond. “Yes. As long as you have—”

  “Protection. I do.”

  Shana was struck by a tsunami of jealousy. He’d slept with other women. Really, it was ridiculous to think he hadn’t, and yet she couldn’t stand the idea of it. In her mind, the only way of fixing that was to make love with him like no one else ever had, wiping out every memory of every woman he’d ever been with.

  Just remember he never married any of them, she reminded herself. You’re special to start with.

  Not special, she thought, but careless, and he was too much of a gentleman not to make an honest woman of her. It was the most incredible thing anyone had ever done for her.

  She turned to face him, straddling him, needing to kiss him. Everything had happened so fast earlier. She want to go slowly, to cherish.

  She discovered him fully aroused when she settled herself against him. She loved the feel of him pressed against her, loved how his lips captured hers and his tongue explored her mouth, and how he held her face. When he made a trail with his lips down to her breasts she tipped her head back, giving him better access. He knew just the right combination of things to do with his mouth to have her climbing, gasping, struggling t
o hold back so that he could join her.

  Instead, he rocked against her, sucked her nipple in his mouth, squeezed her other breast and sent her over the edge, her moans echoing in the tile room. When she finally opened her eyes, he looked fierce, intense. Hungry.

  “Let’s go to bed,” she said.

  He toweled her dry, taking his time, even though he was aroused the whole time. “Did you nurse Emma?” he asked, brushing the towel over her breasts.

  “I tried, but wasn’t successful. The nurse at the women’s shelter where I was living told me I was probably too stressed.”

  He stopped using the towel on her then. “You were living at a shelter? Where did you have Emma?”

  “In a hospital ER. I was able to stay at the shelter for a few months after, then when someone donated a car, the shelter’s board members gave it to me so that I could come home.”

  He kissed her softly, tenderly. “You’re a survivor.”

  “So are you. Most people are when they have no choice. And I had the extra incentive of Emma.” She took him by the hand. “Come on. We only have this night alone. Let’s make the most of it.”

  They stopped beside the bed. He’d already turned down the linens. A condom packet was on the nightstand. “Only one?” she asked pertly.

  He pulled open the drawer, showing her they weren’t limited to one.

  “Well, let’s get this show started.” She shoved him onto the bed, then followed him down. “Ladies first.”

  His smile came, slow and sexy. “Be my guest.”

  And she was. For the whole rest of the night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kincaid woke up in the morning disappointed that Shana wasn’t next to him—and also relieved. In the harsh light of day, their situation was bound to look different. He needed a few minutes to consider everything that had happened.

  He stroked the sheet where she’d slept, then tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. In one sense he wasn’t surprised they’d ended up in bed together. That was a situation waiting, if not begging, to happen. Put a couple who desire each other within proximity and the inevitable will eventually occur. That it had happened so soon was a surprise. That they’d put themselves in a position of possibly having to get married was a shock.