Annette Blair (35 page)
“But . . . you need hockey to be happy. You need the screaming fans, the beautiful women.”
“I need you, Kira.”
“Me? I can’t make you give up hockey. I’m boring. I can’t make you happy. I certainly can’t hold an Ice Wolf’s interest.”
“Oh, yes, you can!” Jason chuckled. “You’re the most fascinating, exciting woman I’ve ever met. A witch. My favorite witch. A goddess. You enchanted Gram, the birds, the boys, and most of all, you enchant me.” He combed his fingers through her hair and brought her close. “I love you, Kira.”
Jason swallowed her gasp with his kiss. She could have kissed him forever, but he stopped, took her hand again, kissed her palm, and traced her lifeline.
“Life without you is empty,” he said. “I think we haven’t been stepping into a rabbit hole so much as climbing into a cocoon, hiding, the both of us, from what we really want, from what we need to make us whole. Look at you, you’re ready to spread your wings and fly. Take me with you? Take
us
with you.”
He got on one knee before her, a gentle wolf, almost tame, but not entirely.
Hope rose in Kira’s heart, her deepest most secret dream there before her.
“Will you marry me, Kira Fitzgerald? Will you adopt the twins with me, and give Gram someone to spoil?”
Kira released her breath on a sob and looked into
Jason’s eyes, but she was afraid to believe the impossible, incredible, love she thought she saw there.
“We can’t raise children in a suite,” she said foolishly.
Jason chuckled. “You’ve been arguing with me since the day we met. It shouldn’t surprise me that—Wait! Was that a yes?”
“I . . . yes,” Kira said, breathless, her heart opening. “I love you.”
Jason whooped, kissed her, and kissed her again. Some time later he took a ring from his breast pocket and slipped it on her finger, a gem-struck butterfly.
“I almost wrapped it,” he said, “but I was afraid I’d have heart palpitations waiting for you to open it.”
Kira laughed. “It matches the earrings I’m wearing.”
“They’re yours, too. Gram wants you to have them, and so do I. Nothing but a butterfly would do, as a symbol of our commitment.”
Jason rose to his feet and took her with him, up and into his arms. “By the way, Gram lied. They’re not fake. They’re diamonds, every one. Rare.”
Kira caught her breath.
Jason kissed her, tender, yet greedy, but with something new added to the kiss, love, commitment, and the promise of a bright new future. That kiss fired their passion, until a bump against the door caught Jason’s attention.
Kira nearly wept with disappointment when Jason left her.
“Remember where we were,” he said, stepping away, then back, for one more kiss. He backed away, as if he were fighting her pull. “Cloud Kiss is mine,” he said. “We’ll convert the east wing. Who needs summer bedrooms?”
Kira smiled. He was a wolf, hungry yet tame, his aquiline features as sharp as the gleam in his silver-gray eyes, the dimple cut deep in the center of his chin . . . adorable. A wolf, sexy, gorgeous . . . and all hers.
“Okay, Gram,” Jason said, opening the door. “You can bring in Kira’s Christmas presents now.”
Bessie came in with Zane and Travis by the hands, and Kira let her weak knees take her down. She covered her heart. “Oh,” she said, catching the boys in her arms and kissing them all over their faces.
Gram swallowed hard, her eyes full, as she turned to Jason. “Judge Attleboro got the papers you signed and faxed. He granted you temporary custody about forty minutes ago. When you two sign the final papers, he’ll rush them through.”
“They’re really ours?” Kira asked.
“We are,” Travis said. “Aren’t we, Zane? Gram and Sister Margaret said so.”
“They’re ours,” Jason said, hugging a nodding boy on each side. “We need your signature on a few papers,” Jason told Kira, “to make Travis and Zane Pickering Goddard legal.” He ruffled each head. “But first, you and I have to sign a marriage certificate and make
you
legal.” He bent over the boys to kiss her. “Judge Attleboro does weddings, too. How does Christmas Eve sound?”
“Awesome,” Travis said. “Can we call you Mom and Dad now?”
“Oh, God,” Kira said on a sob. “Yes!”
“Is that
our
hockey rink now?” Zane asked, looking up.
Kira laughed and hugged them all. “You’re the best Christmas gifts ever.”
“We brought you another one,” Zane said.
“It was the coach’s, I mean, Dad’s idea,” Travis said on a grin, looking up. Dad. It hit Kira then; all of it. She was in love with this man, with these boys, and they were hers.
Yes, Jason Pickering Goddard created fantasies, and this was one of them . . . come true.
Bessie left, and a kitten—the Rainbow’s Edge kitten—came running through the door and leaped into Kira’s arms. It swished its black tail, pawed its black ear, and licked Kira’s thumb.
“I figured she had to be yours. She found you,” Jason said. “Plus, she reminds me of you. White, solitary, with
only a touch of black, to keep life interesting.” He winked.
“She likes to be vacuumed.” Zane giggled. “Old Sister Clean discovered that by accident this morning.”
“You’re kidding?” Kira said.
“Deering was right; she is deaf,” Jason said. “Gram took her to the vet yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“What?” Jason said. “You think this was all spur of the moment?”
“Misty.” Kira stroked her soft white fur. “Does her name remind you of anything?”
Jason shrugged. “You can rename her.”
“I don’t think so. I think she’s from the edge of the rainbow in the void of the mist.”
“Son of a . . . hockey stick.” Jason cupped his nape, and Kira smiled and kissed him.
Misty mewled, jumped to the floor, and ran to touch her tiny paw to the glass, where three crows stood on the snowy deck outside, looking in at them, heads tilted.
“Uh-oh,” Jason said. “Kira . . .” He stepped back, taking them all with him. What do three crows augur?”
Kira smiled, and gazed into his silver gray eyes. “Three for a daughter,” she said.
“Elizabeth,” Gram said.
Travis shook his head. “A girl?”
“She can’t play hockey, if she’s a girl,” Zane said.
“Oh, yes she can,” Gram said.
ContentsDevelopment director, journalism adviser, and award-winning author
Annette Blair
became an overnight success with her first sale eleven years after beginning her first novel. That process has made each of her thirteen contracts and nearly fifty writing awards that much sweeter. Yes, her tenacity is legendary, though some just call her stubborn. After ten historical romances, Annette turned to writing single title contemporary romantic comedies, and she loves her new home at Berkley Sensation. Visit her website at
www.annetteblair.com
, or write to her at [email protected].