One Christmas Wish (7 page)

With a light touch on her chin, he directed her eyes back to his. “But you can't keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” she almost whispered.

“Flinching when I get near you. Either they'll figure out you're not comfortable around me, or they're gonna think I push you around.” And neither one would get her that dog.

“Right. Sorry,” she murmured in that same soft, sweet tone he remembered from the night he'd kissed her twelve years ago. Her voice wobbled the same way it had then. And he felt it, too—the thickening in his throat, the slow burn of desire radiating in throbbing pulses down his body. God, he wanted her. Wanted to feel the silk of her skin beneath his lips. Wanted to prove to her that her scars, the chair, only made her captivating. It made her a survivor. And that made her beautiful.

Uneven breaths flickered in and out between Julia's parted lips.

“I'll have to touch you.” He slid his hand under hers, feeling the quick pulse of her heart in her palm. “As much as that seems to freak you out, they're going to expect us to act like husband and wife for the next twenty-four hours.”

She seemed to accept her fate with a silent nod, her eyes no longer shying away, but staring deep into his.

Blood pounded through him, engorging his heart. This was exactly the way she'd looked at him before he'd kissed her…

“Knock, knock!” Cecilia called from outside. Before he had time to get off his knees, the door flew open.

“Oh dear!” She giggled, stomping snow off of her boots. “I see you two are already making good use of your love nest. Did I interrupt something?”

A smile made Julia's eyes glimmer. “Actually, yes,” she said, looking at him as though some of her earlier hesitation had melted away. Or maybe she was just taking this whole pretend-marriage thing to a new level.

“So sorry,” the woman sang. “But I wanted to bring you two lovebirds some champagne.” She held up an expensive-looking bottle before setting it on the counter next to the mini fridge. “I'd offer you both a nice warm set of flannel bedclothes, but I don't think you're going to need them now, are you?”

The blatant enthusiasm that made Cecilia's face shine was contagious, but Isaac couldn't let himself go there.

“We won't need pajamas,” he agreed, rising to his feet to cool the burn inside of him.

When Cecilia giggled again, Julia's face paled. With a stern look, he reminded her,
This is how a newly married couple would act
. They'd flirt and touch and kiss and, yes, they would plan to have smoking hot sex
whenever
and
wherever
they could. At least, that's how he imagined they'd be. That's how he'd want to be.

“There's plenty of wood for a fire. We keep it right out on the porch,” Cecilia babbled. “Help yourself to as much as you need for the night.”

“Mm hmm,” he murmured, mind still stalled on the smoking hot sex…

“Is everything all right, Julia love?” Cecilia tipped her head to the side, looking concerned. “You do like the cottage, I hope?”

Julia seemed to give herself a little shake. “Yes. Of course. It's…lovely.” She said it like they were talking about a cave.

Isaac inhaled deeply. They were
not
going to get through this if she didn't loosen up. So he only had one choice.

“She's a little shy…” Blatant lie. “But she loves it. We both do.” He stalked across the room and swept Julia into his arms, earning a surprised squeak that reverberated in his ear.

“It'll be the best night we've had in a long time. Ain't that right, darlin'?” He prompted her to agree with a slight tilt of his head.

Seeming to catch on, Julia threw her arms around his neck. “It's true. It's the perfect place for a romantic night,” she said, her sweet glimmering eyes gazing into his.

And he had to dig deep to remind himself that this wasn't real.

J
ulia hid her face against Isaac's neck while he carried her from the “love nest” over to the Gaffneys' main house. As long as it was snowing like this, getting anywhere on her own would be impossible. So lucky her. She basically had to be attached like a growth to the love of her childhood heart. Being that she'd known Isaac her whole life, she felt a bit too comfortable in his arms. Comfortable and lustful. Which didn't normally go together, but there was something about Isaac that defied normal. And logic. Because his arms hemmed her in and his body sheltered her with its capable warmth and reassuring strength.

She tried not to love it, but the way her heart swelled, she was obviously losing that battle. Just like when she was fifteen. She'd known Isaac Nash was not exactly the obvious choice for her back then—older, the star quarterback, her brother's best friend—but that hadn't stopped her from doodling
Mrs. Julia Nash
all over her algebra notebook, now had it?

“Almost there.” His sexy rumbling voice rebounded through her in a hard tug of her heart, then tingled down to more erogenous regions.

Mercy.
Why'd he make it so hard to remember she was a grown-up now?

A sudden gust of snarling wind pelted her face with icy pricks. She burrowed deeper against him. Isaac's skin felt warm and smelled strangely alluring, earthy and virile, like an intoxicating blend of herbs.

Or maybe it'd been too long since she'd gotten some and he happened to be in the right place at the right time. That had to be it. Because he was seriously messing with her the way he played his husband role a little too perfectly. He wouldn't marry her. Not in real life. A guy like Isaac could get any woman he went for. Why the hell would he want one who couldn't walk?

Besides…she had goals. Not that she'd tell him. Ben had obviously recruited him to go on a fishing expedition and for once, things would be on her terms. She would tell them all her plans the day after the wedding. Not before.

Which meant she had to guard her secret. Even from Isaac. Especially from Isaac.

“Whew.” His hot breath puffed against her neck. “How do people even live here? It's colder than hell,” he complained, bounding up a set of steps leading to a small front porch that accentuated the Victorian-style house. It looked like it belonged in a storybook instead of at a ranch in the middle of nowhere. The pointed eves and arched windows appeared out of place nestled between frozen, white mountains.

Isaac stomped snow off of his boots, then secured her with one arm while he pushed open the front door.

A blast of warmth blanketed Julia's face. She breathed it in, willing her nose to thaw.

Already, the delicious smell of seasoned meat made her stomach growl. She hadn't eaten anything since they'd left that morning. Probably because her stomach had been crammed full of nerves since the moment she'd seen Isaac.

“Why don't you sit here for a second, then I'll help you get your coat off,” Isaac said, leaning down to gently set her on a log bench just inside the door.

“I don't need help getting my coat off.” Did he really think she was that helpless?

He heaved out a sigh. “I didn't mean to imply you couldn't take off your coat by yourself.” When Isaac got frustrated the intensity of his brown eyes darkened and made him absolutely smoldering. Irresistible.

With fervor, he ripped off his own coat, revealing a deep maroon Henley that emphasized the impressive results of his career in the Navy. Apparently, they did a lot of hardcore training.

The quick charge of electricity pulsing through her only made her want to retaliate. “Believe it or not, I've been taking off my coat all by myself since I was three,” she informed him. “It's my legs that don't work. Not my arms.” She continued to sass him with a smirk as she wriggled out of her coat and reached up to hang it on a hook behind her. Without any assistance, thank you.

“Sue me for trying to be a gentleman,” he muttered, then gathered her into his arms again, and this time their coats didn't pad anything. There was no barrier to help her ignore the way his toned arms and chest tensed when he held her close.

She, could, however, do it on her own. Making a point to look away from him, she studied the quirky interior of the Gaffneys' house. The inside was charmingly cluttered with furniture and trinkets. Everywhere. It seemed each square inch of floor space was occupied by an antique bench or hardback chair or a bookshelf that held knickknacks instead of books. They passed by three bookshelves in the entry alone before Isaac carried her underneath an arched drop in the ceiling. Then the room opened up into a large parlor—wasn't that what the English would call it? While it may have been crowded, the sitting room had a charmed personality. None of the furniture matched at all. There was one vintage sofa upholstered in blue and another in gold.

End tables and coffee tables clustered around the sofas, piles of books spilling over them, some already on the floor.

A cutout along the back wall gave her a view of the kitchen. That was where Tollie stood, stirring something in a bowl. Cecilia bustled behind him, humming a lively tune.

“Hiya!” Tollie called, waving with the wooden spoon in his hand. Julia waved back, and despite the earlier exchange with Isaac, she grinned. Tollie wore a woman's ruffled apron. It had black and white polka dots and everything. She'd always appreciated a man who had no shame.

“The dogs can't wait to meet you!” Cecilia called, rinsing her hands in a large copper farm sink. “You go on and make yourselves at home. I'll round them up right now.” She disappeared through a back door.

“
Dogs
?” Isaac asked, lowering her to the couch. “As in more than one?” He sat next to her—too close, as usual.

“There's a lot of them,” Julia whispered back. “On their website it says they have six of their own. And Oliver's the last puppy they have left.”

His gaze slid sideways as though checking on Tollie. “You do remember I'm allergic to dogs, right?”

“
What
?” her voice carried.

Tollie peered out through the kitchen window. “Everything all right out there, mates?”

“Everything's wonderful!” Julia called, wrestling her lips into a smile to cover a mounting panic. He was
allergic
to dogs? “Why didn't you tell me?” she hissed.

“I thought you knew.”

“I didn't.” How would she have known that? They didn't have dogs growing up. The Nashes didn't, either, but she'd always assumed that was because his mother was a germophobe. “Why didn't you say something?”

“I didn't know we'd be
hanging out
with the dogs,” he shot back. “It was supposed to be a quick trip. As long as I don't touch one, I should be fine.”

“
Should
be fine?” Oh, mercy. How could he have neglected to mention this detail? “How bad is it?” she whispered near his ear, pretending they were having an intimate conversation.

“It can get pretty bad,” he murmured back, the concern in his eyes deepening. “At least it did when I was younger. It'll probably be fine. I'll just steer clear.”

“Steer clear? We're supposed to be a couple who loves dogs.” Oh, this was such a bad idea. She should've asked Shooter to come here with her, to pretend to be her husband. “How's it going to look if you don't even touch the dog?”

“I don't—”

Somewhere, a door slammed and a chorus of happy woofs echoed around the vaulted ceiling.

Next to her, Isaac looked like he was bracing himself.

Seven dogs careened around the corner, fighting for traction on the wood floors.

Cecilia jogged to keep up with the pack. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. Instantly, the dogs halted. “Sit, you turkeys!” she commanded them. And they did.

They were beautiful dogs, all light-colored golden retrievers with long soft fur and deep brown eyes. The smallest—Oliver, she would presume—sat at the back of the pack, his tail sweeping the floor.

“Are you ready to meet your new daddy and mummy?” Cecilia asked, kneeling next to Oliver.

The dog licked her face.

Julia's heart tugged. He was adorable. So sweet and happy. She would love him forever.

“Come now, Oliver.” Cecilia gently took him by the collar and led him to the couch where they sat.

“He's just gorgeous,” Julia breathed, reaching down to pat his silky head. “What a good boy, Oliver. We're going to be best friends.”

Next to her, Isaac sat as stiff as one of those pine trees outside. She gave him a hard elbow under the ribs. “Isn't he so sweet?” she asked him.

Still sitting on his rear, the dog scooted forward and nuzzled Isaac's hand until he patted his head.

“Hey there, Oliver.” He tried to pull away his hand, but the dog laid its head on his knee.

“Awww.” Julia scrubbed behind Oliver's ears again. She was in love. Absolutely in love.

“Oliver likes you, he does,” Cecilia said to Isaac. “He'll likely bond fastest with you, as the master of the house. Dogs are drawn to whoever leads their pack.”

“Great.” He gave the dog another hesitant pat behind the ears.

Oliver, however, didn't hesitate at all. He licked Isaac's hand like it was covered in melted chocolate.

“Here we go,” Cecilia said, scurrying over. “Why don't we settle him right here in between you?” She coaxed Oliver onto the couch. The dog peered up at Julia first, then turned to gaze at Isaac, as if assessing the situation. With a sigh, Oliver plopped down between them, resting his head on Isaac's leg, burying his nose under Isaac's hand so he'd pet him again.

The other six dogs seemed to get bored with the whole scene and curled up where they sat.

“Well now, I'll let you get acquainted while I help Tollie finish up in the kitchen.” Cecilia started to walk away, but watched them like she wanted to make sure this was a good match.

Julia showered Oliver's head with kisses and elbowed Isaac again. If he didn't show the dog some love, they'd start questioning this whole thing!

Reluctantly, he lowered his head as if he was going to kiss the dog, too, but he sneezed instead. A huge snotty, echoing sneeze.

“Bless you,” Cecilia called from the kitchen.

“Thanks,” he replied cheerfully, but he sounded different. Stuffy.

Julia looked him over. His eyes were already red and watery, his masculine cheeks blotchy.

Well, shit. If they found out he was allergic to dogs, there was no way she'd walk out of here with Oliver.

Cecilia bustled back into the sitting room with a tray of meat and cheeses. She stopped abruptly when she saw Isaac. “Oh my. You don't look so good, love. Are you under the weather?”

“No,” he said at the same time that Julia said “Yes.”

She shot him a dark look. “He's been having sinus issues on and off for days.” She reached over to pat his cheek affectionately. Well…maybe a little swiftly to remind him of their purpose here.

“Achooo!”
Isaac's whole body shuddered with another violent sneeze. And another.

“I think I need some Kleenex,” he snorted, then sneezed again. Oliver startled and jumped off the couch, skulking back to his place with the other dogs.

“Achoo!”
Isaac gave her a helpless look, holding his hand over his nose.

Cecilia headed toward them with a concerned furrow in her brow. “I didn't notice you were sick before. Can I get you anything?”

Julia squeezed his hand.
No.
She'd take care of this. She'd fix it right now.

“Actually, I need to use the restroom, honey…” All of a sudden, she went blank. Would she really call him honey? Or sweetie? None of those seemed to fit Isaac. None of those seemed to fit what she would ever call her husband. “Um, could you take me, pumpkin?” Even as the endearment rolled off her tongue, she hated it. Isaac did, too, apparently, because he visibly flinched.

“Take you to the bathroom?” he repeated as if he'd rather visit Hell.

“Yes, please,” she said sweetly, prompting him to calm down with a pointed smile. If they were married, they'd see each other in the bathroom all the time, so he really needed to quit with the wide-eyed
why the hell would I bring you to the bathroom?
look.

“Achoo!”

“I have to go pretty bad.” She couldn't help the clenched jaw. This was getting serious.

“You really must use the one upstairs,” Cecilia insisted. “It's much more spacious.”

“Great,” Isaac said, his voice brittle. As stiff as a robot, he stood and pulled her into his arms, then lumbered to the old wooden staircase like he was a dead man walking.

The bathroom. He had to bring Julia to the bathroom. Isaac tried not to stumble on the first step. Once he got her in there, would he have to help her undress?
Oh, boy.
Couldn't go there. He'd enjoy that way more than he should.

His nose itched. Another sneeze welled up. He turned his head just in time to spare Julia a shower. Securing her in one arm, he swiped at his watering eyes and tried to navigate the narrow wooden staircase. Damn, he hadn't felt this off balance in a while. “So…” He tried to think of a way to ask, to prepare himself for what was coming. “Will you need my help with anything once we get in there?”

“I don't have to pee.” The words soared through an exasperated sigh. “I went before we came over here. All by myself,” she said. Again. That was becoming a favorite line of hers. As if he didn't believe she was self-sufficient.

Isaac paused on a step and sneezed again. “If you don't have to go, what're we doing?”

She strained her neck as though looking around for Cecilia. “We're going to look through their medicine cabinet for allergy medication so you don't swell up anymore.”
You moron.
She didn't have to say it.