The Holiday Hoax

She motioned him in and wondered if she could escape to put on some make-up. Then pulled back her feminine instincts, reminding herself a relationship could never work between them.

“My favorite movie.” He pointed to the television. “Wouldn’t everyone want the opportunity to have a do over?”

“Aidan, what do you want? It’s Christmas Eve. Did you drive up from the city?”

“I needed to ask you an important question,” he said.

“You could have called.”

“Not with this question.”

Isabella squirmed in her bunny slippers, wishing she had on a sexy cocktail dress with heels. She stalked back over to the couch and sat down stubbornly, refusing to stand in front of him. “Fine. Ask your question, then.”

“Now that you know I’m the Pasta King, does it change your feelings for me?”

Her mouth fell open like a guppy. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You didn’t answer the question. I lied to you because I was afraid. And you were right—I didn’t know what I wanted. But now I figured things out. But do you know what you want?”

“I didn’t pretend to be someone I wasn’t.”

“Yes, but are you willing to love someone even if he doesn’t fit your perfect image?” Aidan paced back and forth, seeming to seek the right words. “I’m not a small town dentist, Izzy. The papers write messy articles and reporters sometimes hound me. I love my father, but he’s domineering and sometimes controlling, so I’m always standing up to him to be my own man. All this time I was so afraid I’d find a woman who wouldn’t see me for who I really was. I thought she’d want my money, my image, my family. I never imagined she wouldn’t want me. I assumed, like an ass, that I was the prize. Until you. Now I’m terrified I’m not good enough to be in your life.”

He paused in front of her, his face naked and vulnerable as he spoke. “I fell for you the moment you saved that damn Charlie Brown tree. I love this small town. And I do love the restaurant business. That’s what I’ve been missing. I spoke with my father and told him the truth. I’m moving out of the city. I’m going to open up my own Pasta King restaurant right here in Poughkeepsie. I’m branching out for myself and cutting the ties with my father. I want to do the work I love but in a place I can make a home for myself.” He paused. “I love you, Isabella Summers. And I want to make a home with you. If you want me.”

Isabella stared up at the man before her. A low humming rang in her ears. Slowly, she rose from the couch and walked toward him. Her hands cupped his beloved face and her heart squeezed, then bloomed to monstrous proportions, threatening to compete with the Grinch after the Christmas spirit invaded his soul.

Her voice came out husky with emotion. “You had me the moment you haggled over the price of that tree. I don’t care if you’re rich or poor and I don’t care what anyone calls you. Because you’re the man I love. I can deal with nosy reporters and a dynamic father-in-law as long as I have you.” She leaned her forehead against his and caressed a stray golden curl off his brow. “I needed to know I was what you really wanted.”

His mouth came down on hers, claiming her with possessive, long thrusts of his tongue. She buried her fingers in his hair, her hips arching upward to meet his, the delicious taste of hot male hunger swamping her senses. “I never knew bunny slippers could be so damn sexy,” he murmured, lifting her high in his arms and pressing her deep into the couch cushions.

Isabella laughed and worked on the buttons of his shirt, tugging off the fabric. She bit the slope of his shoulder in gentle punishment and felt his answering shudder. “I’m glad you like them. The matching robe is on my Christmas list.”

“I may never recover.” His lips traced down the sensitive curve of her neck to her breasts. Her breath came in short, choppy gasps. “I think this is the best Christmas present I’ve ever unwrapped. You taste so sweet.”

Clothes dropped away and he held her tight. His lean, muscled body pressed against every lush curve. “Aidan.” His name broke from her lips and he took her mouth with possession as he claimed her. The night grew darker and the twinkling tree lights cast shadows over the wall. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too. Merry Christmas, baby.”

And Isabella knew it would be a very good year.