Christmas Bride Read online

  “That’s really sweet, but it’s okay if—”

  “No, no, no. We’re not going to do it. Lincoln never should have spilled the beans so soon.”

  Lincoln had announced a few nights ago that he and Summer were expecting their first child. She was three months along in the pregnancy. Ruth was really happy for them, and she didn’t think it was a problem if more people found out on the day of her wedding. But it was incredibly considerate of Summer to make a point of not drawing attention away from her today.

  “He’s just excited,” Ruth said with a smile. “I don’t know Lincoln all that well yet, but it seems like if he feels something, he doesn’t hold it in very well.”

  Summer laughed. “That’s pretty much true.”

  “Then he’s like me. I can totally empathize.”

  “But he’ll keep the secret today. I promise he will. Today is just about you and Carter.”

  Unable to resist the impulse, Ruth said rather primly, “And Jesus.”

  “What?”

  “Today is about Jesus. It’s his birthday after all.”

  Summer broke into more laughter. “Exactly right. Today is about you and Carter... and Christmas.”

  THE WEDDING CEREMONY was at five o’clock in the candlelit marble foyer of the house. Kayla, Summer, and Ruth processed down the formal staircase accompanied by the music of a string quartet. Kayla and Summer wore deep green, and Ruth wore white with a bouquet of red roses. She walked from the stairs to where Carter was waiting in his tux beside the pastor and Lincoln and Lance, who were his groomsmen.

  The ceremony only lasted about twenty minutes. It was beautiful and simple and traditional, and Ruth loved it.

  Afterward, Savannah took some photos (she did that for a living), and then they all gathered around the large table in the dining room to eat dinner.

  Ruth couldn’t have asked for anything better. More fitting. Or anything that felt closer to family for her. They ate and drank and talked and laughed and toasted and even did a little dancing for several hours until the guests finally left.

  Carter had offered to take Ruth to a fancy hotel for their wedding night. After all, they were leaving for a honeymoon trip to Hawaii the following day, so it would have been perfectly natural.

  But Ruth had told him she’d rather just stay there. In the house. Where it felt like home. They had plenty of privacy, after all. They had the whole wing to themselves. And the day had been plenty special.

  She didn’t need a strange room in a fancy hotel to make tonight feel special too.

  She took a bath and changed into a slinky, ruby-red nightgown. (She should have worn white for her wedding night, but she looked better in red and it was Christmas.) When she came out, Carter had sprinkled rose petals on the bed and poured them both glasses of champagne.

  “You did not,” she said, feeling rather sappy at Carter’s preparations.

  He chuckled and stepped over toward her to offer her the glass. “Well. I felt like I had to do something to mark the occasion.”

  She took a sip of the champagne. “I love you, Carter Wilson. You know that, right?”

  “I’m starting to suspect it’s not just a figment of my imagination.” His lips were turned up in a small smile. His eyes were very tender.

  “It’s not. I love you. And it feels like a Christmas miracle that I get to be your bride.”

  He stepped over to kiss her. “It’s a miracle to me too.”

  When he pulled away, she took another sip of the champagne as an idea popped into her head. “I want to have sex with my husband tonight.”

  “Well, good. Because your husband definitely wants to have sex with you.”

  Before he could reach for her again, she said, “But first I’m hoping you’ll give me one more present.”

  “Um, if it’s what I’m thinking, I’m already ready to go.” His eyes flared hot. “You know I’m happy to do that for you whenever you want.”

  “Not that,” Ruth said, shaking with amusement. She sat down on the side of the bed. “A different present.”

  “Just name it, and it’s yours.”

  “I want you to sing for me.”

  Carter blinked. “Really?”

  “Really. Sing for me. Please?”

  “Of course I will. What song do you want—”

  “You know what song.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “Will you?”

  He didn’t answer. He just put down his champagne flute, humming a few bars to find the right key since he was singing a cappella.

  Then he gave her his final Christmas gift for the year.

  Epilogue

  A YEAR LATER, ON ANOTHER Christmas morning, Ruth woke up in bed next to Carter again.

  She knew immediately it was Christmas. She always did. Even in that groggy state when sleep hadn’t yet pulled back its tentacles.

  She giggled out loud, exactly as she had the year before.

  “Seriously?” Carter grumbled from the other side of the bed. “You’re making a habit of waking me up before the crack of dawn on Christmas by laughing over nothing?”

  Laughing even more, she tugged on his shoulder until he rolled over. “It’s not over nothing. And I can’t help it. I’m happy.”

  There wasn’t much light in the room, but she could see him smile as he cupped her cheek. “I know you are. You have no idea what it means to me to know that.”

  She snuggled up beside him. “You could say you’re happy too, you know.”

  “You already know that I am. This past year has been the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. Nothing even comes close.”

  She kissed his bare chest. “Same for me.”

  They lay in silence for several minutes. Carter might have even drifted off, if his slow, deep breathing was any indication.

  Ruth didn’t mind. They had plenty of time. It wasn’t even six yet. She wanted to enjoy the indulgence of lying in bed beside her husband on Christmas morning and doing absolutely nothing.

  She was surprised when Carter pulled away from her abruptly about fifteen minutes later so he could get out of bed.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded indignantly.

  “I’m awake now. I can’t go back to sleep.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and make a cup of coffee before I get back into bed.” He flashed her a quick grin. “If that’s all right with you.”

  Relieved that he wasn’t going to do something like sit at his desk downstairs to work on email (although he’d gotten better about working constantly, he did occasionally do that at ungodly hours of the morning), she sprawled out on his warm side of the bed. “I guess that’s acceptable.”

  When he finished in the bathroom, she went to use it too, and she was out right when he had her cup of coffee ready from the maker in their bedroom.

  They both returned to the bed to drink and check their phones, but Ruth put hers down after just a few minutes.

  It was Christmas morning. There was nothing in the world happening that needed her attention.

  “Lincoln says that he, Summer, and the twins will be coming over here around ten,” Carter said, glancing up from his phone.

  Summer had had twins in the summer. A boy and a girl. Carter joked about how Lincoln could never do anything predictable or in moderation, and the twins were one more example. Ruth had been having a grand time with her little niece and nephew, and she couldn’t wait to see them again today.

  “That’s perfect. That’s when Kayla said she’d get here too.”

  Kayla could drive now, which made things a lot more convenient. She, Brent, and the boys did presents first thing in the morning. By ten Kayla would have nothing fun to do so she was coming over to the house to spend the middle of the day with them.

  “Mom’s planning breakfast for about ten thirty. She’s been talking about it for weeks now, so whatever they’re fixing should be good.”

  After saying tha
t, he returned to going through email on his phone.

  She waited until Carter had finished his cup of coffee before she pulled the phone out of his hand and crawled on top of him.

  He gazed up at her warmly. “You in the mood for something?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I can probably accommodate any wishes you might have.”

  “And what about your wishes?” Her hair was hanging down messily as she leaned over him, and he pushed it back so it wasn’t blocking her face.

  “Every wish I’ve ever had has already come true,” he murmured.

  “Shit,” she breathed. “You meant that, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did. You know that, right?” He palmed her face gently.

  Swallowing over a lump in her throat, she said, “Okay. That might have been the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, and you’ve said a lot of sweet stuff since I met you last year. So you’re going to get something really special right now.”

  His eyes smoldered. “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  She kissed him. He tasted like coffee and toothpaste. Then she trailed her mouth slowly down his body, kissing and nibbling the spots he liked best. He was tense and hard when she reached the waistband of his pajama pants. She could see the outline of a full erection beneath the fabric.

  “Is this what you mean by special?” he asked hoarsely.

  “I think so. That good with you?”

  “That’s just about the best Christmas morning I can imagine.”

  She smiled as she teased him some more. Until he was visibly shaking. When she glanced up at his face, he hissed, “Please.”

  Her body jerking with a rush of pleasure, she slid him fully into her mouth.

  It didn’t take him very long to come. It never did when she took him like that. He reached climax with a long, low, helpless moan that filled her with both pride and pleasure.

  When she finally let him slip out of her mouth, she kissed her way back up to his lips. He rolled them over with a groan so that he was on top, and he took control of the kiss.

  She had no complaints about that arrangement. She was hot and pulsing and needy and emotional beneath him.

  He kissed her for a long time. Then he caressed her for just as long. Finally he moved down her body and made her come over and over with his fingers and mouth. By the time he was finished, he was hard again, so she pushed him over onto his back so she could straddle him.

  His hands moved over her body lovingly as she rode him until they finally held her face as she neared another orgasm. “I love you,” he murmured thickly, his eyes full of heat and trust and devotion. “I love you.”

  She tried to say it back, but she was too close to climax. She made a little sobbing sound and came. He came right after her, and she didn’t find her voice again until she’d collapsed on top of him.

  “I love you too,” she whispered. “So much.”

  He stroked her hair. “Good.”

  It didn’t seem to matter that they were hot and sweaty now and the bed and their bodies were wet with their fluids. They lay tangled together until they both drifted off to sleep.

  Ruth didn’t sleep long. Barely half an hour. She was relaxed and sated and just as happy as before when she woke up again.

  She giggled in the quiet room.

  Carter laughed. “You’re never going to stop doing that, are you?”

  “No. Probably not. Do you want me to?” She lifted her head to check his face.

  There was no way not to see the adoration in his eyes. “Never stop.”

  She promised him she wouldn’t, and that was a promise she never broke.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: If you haven’t yet read them, be sure to check out A Wedded Arrangement (about Lance and Savannah) and Wrong Wedding (about Lincoln and Summer). My next release will be another fake marriage/relationship romance, Purchased Husband. You can read an excerpt from it on the following pages.

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  Excerpt from Purchased Husband

  WHEN I WALK INTO AN Atlanta coffee shop the following day and see the best-looking man I’ve ever seen, I figure that’s got to be Damian.

  Aurora from Companions for Hire showed me pictures of him when we discussed my needs. Tall and well-built with broad shoulders, long legs, and lean hips. Dark hair. Striking blue-green eyes. The perfectly chiseled features of a model for upscale cologne or luxury cars. The pictures were great, but also rather unreal. I could aesthetically see the man is handsome, but he didn’t really do it for me.

  And that’s fine. I’m not looking for a guy who does it for me. I just want a man who will suit my practical needs. The truth is, until this moment, I was taking some comfort in the fact that this man is attractive but not likely to attract me.

  I was wrong. Holy hell, I was wrong.

  He looks like a real person as he’s sitting there in a corner table. (Despite the fact that the place is crowded on a Sunday afternoon, he’s somehow managed to snag the best seat.) He’s dressed simply in jeans and a black crewneck, and he’s focused down on his phone. He’s relaxed. Reading. He lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck, and the move highlights the well-defined muscles in his arm.

  And my whole body wakes up. My eyes. My mouth. My lungs. The blood in my veins. The female parts between my legs that really shouldn’t be this awake in the middle of a coffee shop.

  Shit.

  What the hell?

  I wouldn’t have picked out this guy if I’d known he could make a girl feel like this from nothing more than an initial glance across a crowded room. I thought he was too perfect to be sexy to me.

  I’m standing there like a dope, clutching the strap to my leather bag, when he glances up and sees me. I’m not sure why he knows I’m the person he’s supposed to meet. Yes, I’m staring at him dazedly, but a guy this hot must get that regularly.

  He knows it’s me though. He stands up with a smile.

  It takes a couple of seconds for my body to obey my mind, but I manage to walk over to his table.

  “Melody Clarke?” he says in a pleasantly husky baritone.

  “Yep. That’s me.” I gesture away the hand he’s extended. I’m not a hand-shaker, and I’m definitely not going to risk touching this guy. I give him a little wave instead as I take the chair opposite his. “You’re Damian Winters?”

  “Yes.” He’s sitting down too. Some men think it’s rude that I won’t shake their hands, but his eyebrows are arched, and one corner of his mouth gives a little twitch, like he might be amused. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” I feel breathless and flushed, which isn’t at all like me. I’m well-known for being straightforward and unflappable. So I jump past preliminaries and get right down to business. “Aurora told me all about you. She said you would suit my needs perfectly.”

  “I hope so. I’m more than willing to give it a try.” His eyes are scanning my face and occasionally dropping down to my body. I can’t tell from his expression what he thinks of my appearance.

  Everything about me is medium. It always has been. I didn’t dress up for this meeting, so I’m wearing black yoga pants, a fitted T-shirt, and a gray zip-up hoodie, which is the kind of outfit I pretty much live in. My brown hair (medium length) is pulled back in a low ponytail. I’m not wearing any makeup.

  If he was hoping for a beauty queen or a sex goddess, he’s going to be disappointed.

  I remind myself he’s probably not hoping for anything but to get paid at the end of his job, and I press on. “Okay. Here’s what I need.”

  His eyebrows are dark and just a little thicker than they should be. I notice it
because it’s one of the few parts of his body I can see that aren’t perfect. They arch up again, as if my no-nonsense style surprises and amuses him. “I’m listening.”

  “I need someone to act like my husband for six months. I’m sure Aurora has told you. We don’t actually have to get married. It’s not going to matter, since no one is likely to check into marriage registrations. You just need to pretend to be my husband on the weekends when we go up to Charleston, West Virginia and visit my mom and her new husband’s family. She’s got a bunch of events planned—showers and parties and such. And sometimes we’ll just go to visit. Then the wedding of course. That’s in four months. And I figure we better keep it up for a couple of months after that, although once they’re married there won’t be any more events."

  Damian nods. “Okay. That sounds easy enough. Aurora said you had a tricky family issue. Do you mind if I ask what it is? Why do you need a husband so much you’re willing to pay for one?”

  It’s a perfectly natural question. Anyone would ask it. And there’s nothing rude or intrusive about his tone or expression. But I feel my defenses rising anyway. I’m a private person, and this man is a stranger. “It’s complicated.”

  His eyebrows lifted even higher, and his eyes drop. “Okay.”

  I’m not sure why, but his mild response makes me feel guilty. Like I shouldn’t be keeping secrets from him. It’s very annoying, and the discomfort is not like me at all. “It’s just that my mom’s new husband is very... traditional. Opinionated. And kind of manipulative, I guess. His granddaughters told me that he’s got a bad habit of putting pressure on people. To get married.”

  “I’d guess there are a lot of people out there still like that. Why does it matter?”

  “It matters because my mom is happy. Really happy. And she’s never really been happy before. If there’s conflict between me and Pop—that’s what everyone calls her fiancé—then she’s not going to stay happy. So I thought...” I shake my head and stare down at the table. “Maybe it’s stupid. It probably is. But I thought if I was already married, then it wouldn’t be an issue at all. He wouldn’t try to pressure me. My mom wouldn’t be caught in the middle. It would fix things. I need her to be happy.”