Christmas Kiss is on Her List Page 2
“Very nice work.” She ran her hand over the small opalescent mosaic tiles he’d grouted that morning. “So, is this what you do for a living?”
“Yes, and no. I’m in construction. I’ve taken over for my dad, and now he’s semi-retired. I don’t get my hands dirty much anymore.”
“Well you should do more tiling. It’s beautiful. You did a great job. Maybe you could take a look at my bathroom. It needs a serious fashion makeover. Mauve 1980’s laminate.”
“Sure.” He felt the tips of his ears heat from her compliment. It was nice; he just wasn’t use d to hearing it. He struggled with the top button of his collar.
Josiane stepped closer and moved his hand to the side to assist. “Here let me.” She slid the last few buttons closed with ease. “From grout to great in one easy move .”
He took her hand, led her to the living room, then through to the kitchen. “My brother’s always having parties.” He opened the kitchen cupboard doors and pushed a cereal box out of the way. “I thought there were some crackers in here.” He grabbed cheese from the door of the refrigerator, and snagged bottles of champagne.
“Hey! We only started with one bottle,” she protested. “You don’t need to do this, you’re filling the basket with much nicer things than it had before.”
He grinned and nestled the two bottles of Pommery between the basket’s other contents. “It’s the least I can do. Tell them it’s my contribution. I’ll tell my brother to take it out of what he owes me. Are you going to argue with me all night? B ecause you promised me some real food sometime this evening?”
She grinned at him. “Is that all you can think of-food?”
“Not the only thing, but anything else will make us even later”
Chapter 3
Josiane tried to subdue her shivers while they walked up the drive. They stood in front of her parent’s small suburban brick house decorated in gaudy, bright Christmas lights. She handed him the basket and opened the door.
Even with three expansion leaves, the dinner table was cramped. “Josie! We were worried sick about you,” Her older sister, Ellen, cried running to meet them with a hug.
After Ellen took her coat, Carsten handed her his. “I know this sounds like a tall tale, but I went to pick up Josie at work and the elevator fuse blew. We were stuck for an hour.” He pulled one of the champagne bottles from the basket. “Will this work as a peace offering?”
Picking her up? That was a nice white lie.
There were two seats saved at the table. She started to sit in the one closest to her father, but Carsten offered her the next one in. Didn’t he know that was the hot seat?
“Everyone , this is Carsten.” Everyone greeted him as they continued to dish up their plates.
“Wow, I didn’t know people had real Christmas dinners any longer.” He smiled at her mother. “It looks like a Norman Rockwell painting.”
“Why, thank you,” her mom answered, obviously flattered with the compliment.
“So…” her father picked up his wine glass and tipped it Carsten’s way. “You’re the first man my little Josie has brought home for our traditional dinner. Tell me about yourself.”
“Dad!” she protested. “Let the poor man eat.”
“No worries,” Carsten said as he dished out a large helping of her grandmothers mashed potatoes. “I was born and raised here and the first male of my family to go to Vassar. I went through their dual degree Engineering program with Dartmouth.”
Her father eyed him. “What is it that you work in now? Are you still in engineering?”
Engineering? She knew so little about him. Josiane tipped her chin higher and glared at her father. “Carsten’s in construction. He’s working on tiling his brother’s bathroom. It’s beautiful. You should see it.”
Carsten added, “That’s to keep me busy during the holidays. I shut down the main office for this next week so everyone can be with their families”
“What’s the name of your company?” her father asked.
“Harrell Construction.”
“Harrell Construction?” Her father asked as his eyes widened.
It was Josiane’s turn to gawk as she watched him shovel in another gravy -clad bite. “The Harrell Construction that built my office building, and the one next to it, and the one down the block?”
He smiled at her. “Yeah. But, I like the one your office is in the best. I like the angles and silver windows, it plays well with the sunlight. I’m proud of that. That was my design.”
“You said you were in construction,” she choked out.
“I am.”
“You were wearing Carhartts .”
When he saw the look on her face, he put his fork down. “Did I do something wrong?” He looked around the table.
Her father slapped him on the shoulder. “No, son. I would say the way you have taken over your father’s business you have done just about everything right. Can I get you another glass of wine?”
After dinner, he pulled their coats off the rack. Not giving her any time to respond , he shoved the coat her way and sauntered toward the back door. He walked to the edge of the snow covered patio before he turned to her.
“What is going on? Do you care to tell me what I’ve done wrong?”
“You’re Carsten Harrell.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “So. I’ve been that since I was born.”
“THE Carsten Harrell. Your family has more money than… well, everyone!”
“What does that have to do with me having dinner with you and your family tonight?”
“I made a fool of myself earlier. I thought you were a tile construction worker.”
“Now your views of me are based on you misconstruing my trade?” He looked at her for a long moment.
“My family lives in a two bedroom rambler and I live in an apartment. You probably live in a penthouse with butlers.”
“And my mother lives in a Spanish villa with her art teacher boyfriend, Fernando. My Father drinks to forget her, and my brother is a stuck up yuppie jerk. I don’t have butlers and I only have a maid because I make messes and I’m busy. She comes every other week.” His eyes darkened. “You think money makes a family happy? That’s happy in there… something I haven’t seen for the holidays in a long time. You don’t know how lucky you are. I can’t change who I am.” He frowned and turned. “I think I’d better go.”
“No, please!” She grabbed his elbow to stop him. He looked down at her hand and then into her eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry. When I found out who you were, I thought this little, family Christmas wouldn’t be anything you’d ever be interested in. I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? It’s everything I want. Spending time with a family who’s happy. I love 1970’s strings of lights and a tree decorated with grade school ornaments.”
“Really?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Really. My mom used to throw mine out because they didn’t match the Christmas tree’s theme.”
“I didn’t know trees had themes.” “That’s terrible!” she blurted out.
“It’s not something I want. I never have. I’ve never been comfortable with all of life’s extras. I want to make my own way. Build my own buildings that people are going to know I built, and not my father.”
“I knew you built my building .”
He shot her a grin. “No you didn’t”
“I knew your name was on it. I look at it every morning while I stand in line to get coffee.”
Carsten tucked his hands in his front pockets. “I’m serious about not wanting to be anywhere but here, and I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. And I’m sorry I brought one-hundred and fifty dollar a bottle champagne.”
“One-hundred and fifty dollars! My dad will love it.”
“I’ve never tasted one-hundred and fifty dollar champagne.”
“I’ll let you have the other bottle, for a price.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
“I didn’t say I wanted money.” His eyes darkened. “I want a kiss. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment you stepped on the elevator.”
“Really… that’s funny. I wanted to kiss you too since I stepped on that elevator. At least up to the moment the lights went out and I thought we were going to die.”
“Come here.” He beckoned with his finger. When she got within reach, he pulled her against him. His hand slid around her neck. His mouth lingering above hers, their lips touched.
His kiss was gentle at first but then drugging with sensual strokes of his tongue. Her hands pressed to the solid wall of his chest, her balance seemed to be suddenly off. His hands dropped to her waist and he pulled her up on her toes to deepen the kiss.
He broke away and his breath touched her hair. “Does this mean I can stay?”
“Are you kidding? If you kiss me like that again you can stay all the way through dessert.”
“Are we talking about the cookie kind?”
“Cookies, pies, cakes…my mom makes a Yule log with sparklers.”
“I like those kinds of bribes.” He framed her face with his hands and kissed her again, this time slow and sweet.
A tingling sensation raced through her belly. Closing her eyes she let the sweet awareness of his touch pull her in. She threaded her hands through his hair and clenched the thick strands. She never remembered being kissed this thoroughly.
A whoosh of warm air hit their backs as her dad stuck his head out. “Hey, you two love birds, you’re gonna miss the presents. I know there’s a new fishing rod under that tree for me, so stop holding up the show.”
“Yes, sir.” Carsten said, looking down into her face with a twinkle in his eyes.
Chapter 4
Josiane filled him in on the Brunwell family traditions. There were lots of family members, so they drew names and bought a gift for the person they drew. The older family members sat on the couch and chairs leaving the ‘young folks’ to sit cross -legged on the floor.
Carsten looked up at the six-foot high tree, “It’s crooked,” he whispered, “and it’s beautiful, just like you.” He squeezed her hand.
Her heart did a little flip. If Kevin hadn’t stood her up, she may never have met Carsten.
The present order was called out from the oldest to the youngest. “I’m not the oldest!” her grandma Josie protested, wagging a ninety-year-old finger. “Elmer is a whole year older than me.” She grinned. “After all, you know ninety is the new eighty!” She rubbed her hands together when someone dropped a present in her lap. “Whoever drew my name, I hope it’s that new Price is Right t-shirt I’ve wanted all year.”
Everyone laughed.
When they got to Carsten, her dad rose to his feet. “There is a Brunwell family tradition. The new person at the gathering gets the special Brunwell gift.”
“Oh, no. Dad!” Josiane protested.
Carsten ripped open the package. He pulled out a sweater with a giant brown reindeer woven into the front, complete with the red pom-pom nose.
She rolled her eyes. “You guys must have worked hard on this. That has to be the ugliest sweater I have EVER seen!”
He grinned as he pulled it over his head. At that moment she knew that she loved her crazy, goofy, sometimes a pain-in-the-rear family. She was lucky to have them and she was happy they were able to put that smile on Carsten’s face.
Her sister pointed to the reindeer. “It’s got a battery pack inside. Push the button and it makes his nose blink and it plays Jingle Bells.”
He followed her instructions. “Hey, look at that. You can find me in a snow storm.”
“Or a dark elevator,” Josiane added.
He looked like a little kid and genuinely got a kick out of the silly gift. “We needed this earlier. I’ll have to keep it in my backpack just for emergency situations.”
After all the presents were open and the food was put away, they excused themselves and Carsten drove her home. A light snow fell making the roads glimmer with silver sparkles under the street lights.
On the drive, he told her about the Christmases he’d shared with his family, usually in an exotic locale. It didn’t sound like it was all bad, he had good memories… just different than hers.
When they reached the front door of her apartment she turned and braced her back against the door. He smiled and closed the distance between them running his thumb along her chin. She swallowed past the surge of emotions crowding her chest. An inferno was building between them.
He crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss went on and on until she thought she couldn’t breathe.
“Do you want to come in ,” she asked.
Carsten closed his eyes. “I have never said this to a woman before, but no.”
“No?” She was surprised by his answer.
When he opened his eyes his gaze was filled with stark sincerity. “I can’t believe I’m saying it either. If you knew how much I want you right now…” He let out a shaky breath. “I think we have something special here. I don’t want this to be one night. I really like you, Josie. I’m through with quick tumbles. I’m looking for something more.”
“Like someone who won’t make fun of your reindeer sweater.”
“Yeah, like someone who won’t make fun of my reindeer sweater.”
“I’m looking for that too. If you won’t spend the night with me, will you come back tomorrow and spend Christmas Day with me?”
“I thought you’d never ask. And, then how about the day after that? It looks like I’m open through New Year’s Eve.” He kissed her gently. “Will there still be some of your grandma’s chocolate cream pie left?”
“There’s always leftovers. Only the best at the Brunwells.”
“I’ll be here at eight in the morning to pick you up.”
“Make it nine… and bring coffee.”
He grinned. “How did we manage to turn Christmas chaos into this?”
“Just lucky I guess.”
“Yes, lucky.”
Her attention focused on his mouth. Firm. Sexy. Josiane laced her fingers through his wind tousled hair and brought his lips to hers and kissed him hard.
When he tore his mouth from hers, he had a look of disorientation in his eyes. “I’m going to go. If I don’t, this plan for chivalry will be shot to hell.” He started to leave, but then pulled back the sleeve of his jacket and glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s after midnight. Merry Christmas.” He gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll be back at eight.”
“Okay, if you insist, eight. Then bring lots of coffee. I’m not a morning person.”
He kissed her once and rubbed his nose to hers. “I plan to find that information out soon enough.”
She watched his long slow strides as he walked away.
She couldn’t wait for tomorrow so she could see him again. It was turning out to be a very merry Christmas indeed.
A Country Kitchen Christmas
Leanne Tyler
Chapter One
And that, dear reader, is my perfect Christmas dinner menu. I can assure you if you follow my detailed instructions you too can have a wonderful feast.
Until next time, keep cooking.
The doorbell rang as Penelope typed the last sentence and hit post on the blog. She hurried over to the door, picking up her wallet as she went. “Perfect timing.” She opened the door and smiled at Cho. “How much do I owe you?”
“Same as every night. Twelve ninety-five.” The delivery boy hande
d her the bag of Chinese takeout.
“Am I that predictable?” She handed him fifteen.
“Like clockwork. Tell me, how can you write about cooking if you can’t cook?”
Penelope shrugged. “Desperate people can do about anything to pay the rent.”
“Hmmm.” The boy grinned and gave a short bow. “Confucius would say one day you gonna be sorry.”
“Probably, but that doesn’t sound like Confucius. More like a meddling delivery boy. If you want to quote Confucius, try ‘silence is a true friend who never betrays’.”
He grinned. “You all right, Miss Anders.”
“So are you, Cho. See you tomorrow.”
Penelope closed the door and went into the tiny alcove that served as her kitchen. She sat on the stool at the small counter and ate her dinner, alone. It had been six years since Aunt Edith died and she’d fled Crater’s Corners to come live in Atlanta. College had been hard, but she’d struggled through, only to graduate and not be able to find a job. If it hadn’t been for her friend and former roommate Dana Stevens, she wouldn’t be writing the popular Country Kitchen daily blog for the Southern Cooking Channel. It paid the bills, but if anyone found out that she couldn’t boil water without burning it, both she and Dana would be out of work in a snap.
Thanks to Aunt Edith’s almost finished cookbook manuscript and the overflowing box of handwritten recipes, Penelope was able to fake her cooking knowledge. According to Dana, her writing talent along with Aunt Edith’s kitchen skills was keeping her readership extremely happy. And Penelope was hoping this Christmas to receive a nice bonus now that her readership had quadrupled.
Her cellphone buzzed and she reached for it. The text box flashed with Dana’s picture and she opened up the icon and read her friend’s message.
Coming over. I’ll be there in 15.
Penelope finished the last of her Kung Pao chicken and tossed the container into the trash. She wiped down the counter and headed back to her desk to work on tomorrow’s blog about decorating for the holidays. Sighing, she reached for the box of old pictures taken at the farm. Aunt Edith always made the place look extra special at Christmas with her homemade decorations and fresh pine garlands. Using her scanner, she digitized four of her favorites to upload to the blog and tweaked the colors with her photo program to make sure they popped on screen. If her digital media degree had taught her anything it was presentation is a key when drawing in readers.