Christmas Delights 3 (45 page)

“I thought that was thunder in winter,” Jax couldn’t help
teasing, though he’d heard the saying both ways over his lifetime. Sometimes it
had even come true.

Lane shrugged. “Lightning, thunder, it all goes together,
right? Like Christmas and snow. It should snow every Christmas.” He buried his
hands in the pockets of Jax’s coat, showing no sign he wanted to go back
inside.

Jax watched him instead of the snow or, more accurately,
watched him in the snow. There was barely a breeze to stir the flakes as they
drifted downward and settled on his face and shoulders. The chill painted his
cheeks with ruddy color. Jax stopped doubting the wisdom of his attraction to
Lane. Lying in his hospital bed looking pale and vulnerable Lane had shown his
spirit as he battled them every time he opened his eyes. Now seeing him on his
own two feet unafraid to expose his delight in something as simple as Christmas
snow, there was no way Jax would let him simply walk away come morning.

As if he sensed Jax’s thoughts, Lane turned to meet his
gaze, and when his kiss came it held a gentle tenderness that stole Jax’s
breath. He stepped into the embrace, accepting the kiss with enough enthusiasm
Lane hissed with pain, drawing away. It was an action that brought Jax back to
himself immediately. He hadn’t made a sane decision in the last ten minutes.
Doctors didn’t bring patients out into inclement weather and allow them to
steal kisses.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say as he reached
for Lane’s arm to lead him back into the hospital. Lane caught him by the hand
and squeezed hard.

“It’s okay, Doc,
look
.”

For the first time since they’d come outside, Jax became
aware of what was happening around them. Others had followed their example and
stood in the snowy yard. He didn’t think there could be a person left inside
judging from the number of people not just standing in the courtyard but
running and playing with shouts of laughter, patients as well as staff.

“It’s magic, Doc, or it can be if you let it.” Lane’s half
smile didn’t ease Jax’s conscience.

“I hurt you.” He tugged on Lane’s hand trying to urge him
into the direction of the doors, but he stood firm.

“It was nothing, we just have to go slow, that’s all.” There
was a long pause as they tried to read one another in the shadowed gloom of the
snowy night. His fingers loosened but didn’t fall away. “If you want to.”

Jax’s fingers tightened against Lane’s slack grip. “I like
slow.” The double innuendo wasn’t lost him, and Lane snorted a laugh. Jax moved
closer. The other man had no way to know only the innuendo part had been true
in the past. Except for an ill-fated romance in med school, Jax had kept his
intimate encounters hard and fast, without the entanglements that made life
complicated. He’d been satisfied with his choice until he’d fallen into the
shadow of Trent’s relationship with Gage. The love they shared didn’t just make
a man want more from life.  It made him ache for it.

Their lips met a second time, and Jax’s heart pounded as
Lane slid his fingers along his jaw, prompting him to open his mouth so they
could taste one another. Jax held him carefully, mindful of his injuries and
unwilling to cause him any more discomfort, but he couldn’t let go. The flavor
of him so new on his tongue lit a fire that would not be easily extinguished.
Jax wanted to know the fit and the feel of this man in his arms, the push of
their bodies together, and something else. He could taste it in their kiss. A
hint of something like a promise. One as insubstantial the promise of snow in
Christmas lightning. It lingered after the kiss, leaving in its wake the hope
for something more.

Not The End at all.

Diane Adams

Diane started writing a number of
years ago but never published until Dreamspinner Press accepted Blue Skies in
spring of 2010.  She works a regular 9 to 5 job during the week and has the
herculean task of raising three kids on her own so time to write her stories
isn’t always so easy to find. She has successfully managed to squeeze a bit in
here and there and loves to write, explore and develop her characters although
she admits she has to be careful with characterization (her favorite part) as
she is prone to spending too much time on this and not enough on making sure
things happen!

Blog:
http://dianeadams.virtualdelusions.com/

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/diane.adams.56808

Standing on the balcony of his sixtieth floor
penthouse, Noel Sauvageau gazed out at the Manhattan skyline. They were having
an unusually mild December, and though the weather was crisp and cool, the sky
was clear and the late afternoon sunset was a fiery splash across the horizon.
It shone with crimson, a neon blood red, threaded with streaks of red-orange
and yellow, as if a giant, ethereal hand had crushed and smeared the sun across
the sky. He thought it strange that Christmas Eve would bear a sky that looked
better suited for October.

Managing his clients’ overseas affairs had him
exhausted, and the global financial turmoil of late was only serving to drain
him completely. He was glad he’d taken the week between Christmas and New
Year’s off. He desperately needed the rest.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He
withdrew it and looked at the screen. Sighing in resignation he answered, “
Joyeux
Noël, Maman
.”

“You’re late.”

The sound of his mother’s voice grated on his
nerves. “I told you I’d be there tomorrow.”

“There is someone your father wants you to
meet.”

Translate: There is a woman I want you to
meet. His mother’s insistent attempts to marry him off infuriated him. “I don’t
want to meet women, Mother.”

“Your father believes there is something wrong
with you.”

Of course, he does
,
Noel thought bitterly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good evening.”

“Jean-Noël Baptiste Sauvageau, you must come
to your senses! You have put us in an extremely uncomfortable position.”

Of course, I have
.
How dare he do, rather, fail to do something to enhance his mother’s social
status. “I did no such thing.”

“You most certainly have. People are saying
things. They have suspicions.”

Of course, they do
.
“The suspicions would stop if you simply told your friends that I am a
homosexual man. It isn’t as if I’ve contracted the Bubonic plague.”

“How apt a term. The word bubonic derives from
the Greek word for groin.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mother.”

“You’re thirty. You should be married and
giving me grandchildren.”

“You’ve known I was gay since college. I’m not
going to change. You can’t expect me to marry a woman.”

“I can and I do.”

“Mother, I don’t want to argue with you. I’ll
see you tomorrow.”

“What time will you be here? Your father wants
to speak with you.”

Of course, he does
.
“By two.”

“Noon.”

“Three.”

“
Merde
,” she swore softly.

“Merry Christmas, Mother.” He terminated the
call and pocketed the phone. He abhorred the thought of having to deal with her
tomorrow. It wasn’t enough for her that he was one of the most powerful men on
Wall Street at the age of thirty. Or that she could boast an article each week
about him in the
Times
. Or that he supported his parents’ extravagant
lifestyle. He had never been good enough. Chances were good that if he married
a woman and gave his mother six grandchildren, she’d still find fault with him.

His phone vibrated again.
Please, God, I
can’t take any more.
He withdrew the phone, looked at the screen, and
frowned. Blocked number. He touched the screen and answered, “Sauvageau.”

“Merry Christmas, Noey.”

His jaw dropped. The sultry voice from his past was soft and
round on his senses and memories flooded him, instantly twisting his gut.
“Olivia,” he breathed.

“In the flesh. Or as close as one can be over an electronic
communication device. What are you doing this evening?”

“Just like that? We haven’t spoken in almost twelve years
and you call to ask what I’m doing on Christmas Eve? Worse yet, without as much
as a ‘how are you’?”

She sighed. “I miss you. How have you been?”

His gut twisted a little tighter. “I’m fine, thank you. How
are you?”

“Terrific! I saw the article in yesterday’s
Times
.
Congratulations on pulling off the largest takeover in history. What are you
doing this evening?” she asked again.

He shook his head to himself remembering the Olivia he’d met
in high school. The Olivia who became his best girlfriend, the sister he never
had. The girlfriend who always pulled pranks and knew all his secrets.
Except
one
. The girlfriend who unwittingly stole the love of his life. He’d lost
his two best friends in a single twist of fate and nearly dropped out of high
school right before graduation. The sound of her voice reopened jagged wounds
in his heart. “What are you up to, Olivia?”

“I want you to come to our party this evening.”

He winced, even more incredulous. “Why? I mean, why now?”

“Because I miss you and I want to see you.”

“Olivia, you know I can’t.”

“We’re divorced, Noey.”

He stilled. “I-I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. We’re still friends. Come to my party. It’s a
lousy six blocks away, and you can always leave if you’re not having fun.”

Frustrated, he rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. He
knew where they lived. He’d always known...and had always been careful to avoid
their building. “Olivia, we haven’t seen each other in years. It isn’t... it
isn’t as if—”

“Oh, shut up. We’re still best friends. You’re the only one
who doesn’t know it. Come on, the whole gang is here. Even Angie and David took
the night off.”

“Angie and David?”

“You remember Angelo Russo. His family owns Russo’s
Ristorante. Remember?”

He did remember Angelo. They’d played on the baseball team
together. “David?”

“David Greenly. The kid we always thought wasn’t old enough
to be in high school because he was so small. He and Angelo got married a month
ago.”

He wasn’t surprised. He was shocked. “You can’t be serious.”

“Would I lie to you?”

No, Olivia never lied. Even when she might have spared him a
crushed heart.

“Come on, Noey. I’m dying to see you.”

He shook his head to himself again. “I-I think I would rather...
Listen, why don’t we have lunch on Monday? We can talk.”

“It’s four o’clock now. Be fashionably late and arrive
around eight. Penthouse three. Casual and you needn’t bring a thing. I can’t
wait to see you, Noey!”

He was left holding a silent cell phone in his hand. Olivia
had always been a force of nature, a cyclone in her own right. Once she set her
mind to something, nothing stopped her. He ran a tired hand through his
chestnut curls as he turned, walked into the living room, and headed straight
for the bar. He poured a glass of petit syrah and carried it to the coffee
table. The leather of the couch squeaked beneath him as he kicked off his
Ferragamos and lay back.
The gang.
Man, they’d had so much fun in their
senior year of high school. His mind drifted through memories. The feelings of
first love had been fresh and intense, the need to be close absolute. They’d
spent two solid weeks together over Christmas. Sebastian had held him and sang
him to sleep every night. It had been the best Christmas he’d ever known. Then
his world crashed down around him. He wanted to forget. He closed his eyes in
an effort to shut out the pain. He hated Christmas.

~*~

“Woot! Way to go, Noel!” Sebastian shouted and whooped from
the stands behind home plate as Olivia shrieked her happiness on the air.

Noel stood after a painful slide home and bent over, hands
on knees, and worked to catch his breath. The home run had won the game for
them. They were the state champions thanks to him. Sebastian was in the stands.
He couldn’t have been happier. More than a fitting end to his last year in high
school.

Sebastian trotted up and brushed the dirt off his side and
thigh. Then, to Noel’s utter astonishment, amid the throng of congratulatory
fans, Sebastian hugged him, lifting him off his feet and spinning them around.
In
front of everyone
. Noel couldn’t help it. He giggled.
Like a girl
.

“Put me down, man! People are gonna think we’re queer!”