snow outside. The image evoked memories and emotions she’d thought were gone, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, shivering.
“Are you okay?” Rafe asked.
“Yes, I’m fine…. I forgot how pretty the trees are.”
“They are pretty. I can’t imagine Christmas without one.”
“I used to have some favorite decorations—they’re probably still up in the attic at Dad’s.”
Rafe was gazing at her with such warmth, concern and understanding that she had to glance away as he spoke. It was as if he knew what was going on inside of her clearer than she did, and she didn’t know how she felt about that.
“You ever go back?”
“Not for a while. He remarried last year. He’s happier than he has been since I can remember. I think Lois has been good for him, and I know she’s insisting he celebrate Christmas. I’m glad for him.”
“That’s good. What about you? Don’t you want to be happy, too?”
She didn’t say anything, his words landing home. She looked at the tree again, picking up a string of lights.
“I don’t know. I figured if I made the right choices, did the right things, worked hard, then I would be happy. It doesn’t seem to always end up that way, does it?”
“Maybe they weren’t all the right choices.”
She blew out a breath. “Could be,” she hedged. “I think we’d better get back to decorating this tree.”
He smiled, taking the string of lights. “You’re the boss.”
Somehow, with Rafe, who had blustered into her life, had her decorating trees and walking around her house naked, among other things, she doubted that, but wasn’t about to argue.
They worked in concert, placing the lights, then moved on to the ornaments. Rafe had bought enough for two Christmas trees, and they’d be lucky if this one didn’t topple over once they were done. She was enjoying herself more than she’d anticipated.
“Help. I can’t quite reach this branch,” she said, stretching to hang a heavy Santa ornament on a thick, stubby branch close to the top. Rafe stepped behind her, slipping a hand around her waist and snuggling close as he took the ornament and hung it from the branch she’d been targeting. She almost dropped the damned ornament, raw desire making her knees weak.
He didn’t move away when he was done hanging the decoration, but instead wrapped both hands around her front, his hands doing wicked things to her breasts as he kissed the back of her neck. She leaned against him, the hardness of his cock slipping into the pocket of heat between her thighs as she issued an unmistakable invitation for what she wanted him to do, right now, right there, standing by the Christmas tree. He didn’t do anything more than continue to kiss and rub, shifting back and forth with a gentle friction that had them both panting with need.
“Rafe,” she said breathlessly, reaching up to touch his face, “let’s go upstairs. We’ll finish the tree later.”
He murmured his agreement, then suddenly the doorbell rang, yanking her out of the spell with a groan.
“Ignore it,” she said.
“It’s the food,” he said, pulling on his jeans and grabbing his wallet. “Just take a sec. I’m starving,” he added, dragging his eyes down her form as he said it.
They hadn’t had dinner, though she wasn’t hungry for anything but more of what Rafe was doing to her body. When he went to the door, she made sure she was out of eyesight, and shivered, missing his heat.
After he set the food on the table, he turned her around in his arms and took her mouth in a kiss so carnal her toes curled into the carpet, and she thought hazily that she might never wear clothes around her house again.
His tongue stroked hers repeatedly before sucking her into his mouth, tasting her deeply, touching her as she wanted him to touch her elsewhere. She’d never, ever, in her life been this turned on by a man’s touch. She had a hard time coming, yes, but she was damned near the edge from what he was doing to her mouth, and she wanted more, saying as much when he released her from the kiss.
“We will … after the tree is done. Then we can have some dinner and admire it.”
“I don’t want to wait,” she pleaded, her frustration reaching a fevered pitch. He kissed her again, and her body fit itself to his.
“Just a little longer. Don’t be so bossy,” he teased, kissing her nose before stepping away to reach for the last few ornaments. Joy wanted to scream but helped him nonetheless, placing the last ones much less thoughtfully than she had at first.
She was hot all over and craving whatever relief Rafe could offer. She’d never been this aroused in her entire life, and while it was all good, she was simultaneously afraid of losing the buzz, as if too much teasing would backfire, like overinflating a balloon and having it burst.
One look at Rafe’s very aroused body and she knew her fears were probably baseless. This horny phase she was in wasn’t likely to pass until she had him—maybe repeatedly.
PAM WOKE UP SUDDENLY, jerking her head from the desk with a cramp in her neck. Papers she’d been working on were plastered to her cheek. She peeled them off, casting a glance at the clock—it was 11:00 p.m. Another night on the cot in the back. She had to finish working on the budget first, though. Maybe if she crunched the numbers again, she’d find a way to squeeze more out of them.
Even with Joy’s help, they would barely be able to afford the kind of party they were trying to give, and every cent counted—it was a last-ditch effort at keeping Second Chance open, outside of taking a loan that Pam had no idea how she’d ever pay back. She hadn’t told the current residents what was going on, and didn’t intend to, not until it was absolutely necessary.
If the worst happened, she’d already been in contact with some other shelters, and she would make sure her people had places to go. The problem was that the other places offered lodging, but they didn’t necessarily offer as much support to get people started in new lives, new jobs, with a new sense of self.
Second Chance was about giving people a step up, not just a place to stay. She’d put everything in her life for the last fifteen years into building this place, and her vision had worked. She wasn’t going to lose it without a fight.
The determination to fight was good—it was what she needed to keep herself from thinking about how much she missed Ted. They’d talked a few times on the phone, but the conversations had been stilted and touchy. She was hurt, so was he.
They weren’t sure how to approach each other anymore, and she hated it—they’d been comfortable around each other since day one, and now it felt as if there were a huge wall between them. All she wanted was his touch, his kiss, and to be able to lean on him right now, but it wasn’t possible.
Well, she’d stood on her own before, and she would now. Her thoughts drifted to her parents, and if she were honest, she’d been tempted to ask them to bail her out. They might do it, but then there would be strings, and she couldn’t deal with that. They’d never give her the money without conditions, and that was why she’d never asked. They were
