workaholic. She knew the type all too well thanks to Brendan. Men who would rather climb the corporate ladder than be tied down with a wife and kids. Men who only wanted a girlfriend when it was convenient for them. Men who didn’t want to be held responsible for anything serious. Men who wanted to work hard and play hard without complications. She should have known, really. Max was gorgeous, unattached, and clearly very successful. It was a common combination. And a lethal one, in her experience.
Her heart contracted with each breath, throbbing with pressure as the reality of the situation became all too clear. It was too good to be true. She should have known. Max was who he was and she was not going to be the girl to try and change him. She’d been a fool once, and she’d be damned if she’d be one again.
He may be cute and rich and have a smile that could make her knees shake, but he’d break her heart without a bat of his curly, black lashes. If she let him.
They began to approach the town square with hands thrust in pockets, chins tucked in scarves, and quietly gathered with the other townspeople who were crowded below the base of a large evergreen. A children’s choir was huddled together, waiting for their cue from the elementary school’s music teacher.
“Beautiful tree this year, Holly!” someone cried out and Holly beamed.
“That’s your tree?” Max whispered, his eyes wide.
“I donate one every year,” she said. “With so much land, it’s the least I can do.”
“The owner doesn’t mind?” A frown line creased Max’s forehead.
Holly’s breath caught. “I’m surprised you would remember that I didn’t own the land,” she said, feeling slightly uneasy.
But Max just threw her a devastating grin. “I learned a long time ago that when a pretty girl talks, you should listen.”
Holly cheeks burned with pleasure and she skirted her eyes to her feet. When she dared to glance his way again, Max was scrutinizing her with an amused smile.
Relief finally came when the children’s choir suddenly broke out in song, their small, sweet voices echoing in the night air. A chill descended over the crowd as the mesmerizing, almost haunting sound filled the silence. At the last verse, the tree immediately sprang to life, and the magnificent lights illuminated the crowd’s smiling faces.
Max leaned in to her and whispered, “Cold?” The soft touch of his breath so close to her ear as he whispered such a simple question forced a rush of electricity to run the length of Holly’s body. She trembled slightly and then quickly drew a sharp gust of freezing air in a vain attempt to regain some form of composure.
Mistaking her shudder for a shiver, Max draped an arm around her shoulder. His dense parka felt like a down blanket as he pulled her in closer. “That better?”
She barely managed a nod. Max’s proximity began caving in on her, causing her body to respond in a primal way she had not experienced in a very long time. Even through the thick coat, she could feel the hard wall of his chest as he held her close, and the strong weight of his arm as it enveloped her shoulder, his hand gracing down to rest on her elbow. A flush of desire poured through her blood, heightening her senses. Her mind began to reel with the possibilities of what his body would feel like against hers and she had a swift and all-consuming urge to rip off that parka and press him firmly against her so she could properly feel the contours of his body, and the ripples of his muscled chest.
She knew that indulging herself with these thoughts was pointless. She could never act on them. She would only be disappointed. He was leaving in a matter of days. And he had made it clear where his priorities lay. But it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy the moment...
Once the last song had been sung and the last ovation had been given, the group begin to disperse. A crowd was already working its way to Lucy’s Place or the pizzeria, not quite
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham