I'll Be Yours for Christmas (15 page)

 

R
EECE RAN HIS HAND OVER
the hood of the car—it was a beauty, and he was anxious to get out on the track, his nerves banished. He felt great.

The stock car was heavier and built out far differently than those he drove for Formula One, not as low or aerodynamic, but it was a powerful beast, and it would put him to the test.

He knew he could do this. He was ready.

“Feeling good?” Brody asked, walking up beside him, handing him a helmet.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Let's go then,” his buddy said with a slap on his shoulder. “They have everything set up and won't time the first run, so you can get a feel for it, but we'll time a second and third.”

He tried to pretend this was as informal as Brody
said, but Reece knew a couple of reporters had caught wind of this drive, and asked to come on site. He'd allowed it. It was risky, but he had nothing to lose at this point.

“Sounds good,” Reece said, pulling the helmet on, adjusting and testing the microphone as he prepared to slide himself into the tight spot, the men suddenly gathered around him ready to strap him to the seat.

Before he did so, however, he glanced up and saw Abby, waiting just beyond the perimeter with Hannah and a few other onlookers.

He waved, and she blew him a kiss back.

“You ready, Romeo?” Brody teased and Reece slid into the seat and got prepped.

Minutes later, all systems checked and ready, it was up to him now. Reece had driven this track once or twice before, never officially, but as he looked ahead, everything fell into place.

The world outside of the car dropped away as he pulled forward and got a feel for the smooth, powerful growl of the engine. Something very close to arousal flowed through him, and he became completely focused as he started a first lap, taking it slow at first, getting into the groove.

“God, this feels good,” he said with gusto into the mic.

“You're looking good,” he heard Brody respond with a knowing laugh.

Closing one lap, Reece got serious and picked up speed, moving the tach up to about 7000 rpms. He took the next corner perfectly, smiling.

This was right. This was where he belonged.

He did a few more laps and pulled in, signaling that he was ready for a timed run.

A short while later, he was off again, punching up the speed, testing the car, his reflexes and his body.

All seemed in working order, and he pulled in a few seconds later, listening over the radio for his time.

“I can do better,” he said, to himself as much as to the guys on the other side.

This time, he went for it, watching the yellow light come on that told him he was pushing into the higher area of speeds that could disqualify a driver from a win, but he wasn't competing with anyone but himself and the clock.

He pushed it a little more, coming into the last lap, and caught his breath, cursing as a sharp pain shot up his calf to his knee, causing him to lose focus slightly, and the car wavered on the track.

Cold sweat broke out as he controlled the car, fishtailing slightly, trying to ignore the pain.

“Again,” he ground out over the mic, even though Brody was saying no.

“One more.”

He managed one more set of laps, clocking a decent time, though slower than he'd have liked.

But he had to stop, he knew, because the pins and needles were so intense, he couldn't feel the accelerator with his foot.

The frustration was more painful, but he swallowed it as he unbuckled himself and was pulled out. When he was set on his feet, his left leg faltered slightly, and he caught it in time to save himself public humiliation.

Brody noticed, and did him the favor of distracting those who were watching.

Abby noticed, too. She was as white as a sheet, staring at him with dark eyes.

A second later, she launched herself at him, and if not for the car behind him they would have both gone down.

“You were wonderful,” she said, but she was trembling from head to toe.

“Hey, what's wrong?” he asked. “You're crying.”

“I'm so happy for you, and that you are here again. I thought you were going to crash when you fishtailed—it scared me,” she said. “But you didn't. You did it,” she said, hugging him tightly again.

“My leg went buzzy on me,” he said, disgusted with himself, adrenaline still surging through him, his own hands shaking. “I needed to do better.”

He figured this was it. He'd made the drive, but his warble was going to be the thing everyone focused on. The thing that would convince the sponsors not to take a chance on him.

“It was respectable, considering,” Brody interrupted. “What happened?”

“Lost feeling in my leg—or rather, pins and needles were too intense for me to apply as much pressure as I should. I lost focus for a moment,” Reece admitted.

“You controlled it, and your time was decent. Still, your cars and tracks are a lot different, more unpredictable,” Brody said, sliding one arm around Hannah and the other rubbing the back of his neck in an obviously nervous gesture. “Maybe if you rest one more season and let your body heal, you'll be in better shape next—”

“I can't do that, Brody, and you know it,” Reece said. His leg was a little better now that he was out of his cramped position, but it still bothered him. “This will either convince them or not,” he said, thanking his friend and shaking his hand. The chance to prove himself was was all he could ask for, but even Reece knew the drive hadn't gone as well as he needed it to. Not well enough for sponsors to risk millions of dollars on him.

Still, he had done it, and he was going to celebrate, like he had promised Abby.

“Hannah and I have plans tonight—you two are okay on your own?” Brody asked as they left the track.

“Yeah, we'll be fine. You guys have fun—we fly out early?”

“Yeah, see you in the morning.”

They parted ways out in the lot after Reece had changed and met Abby where she waited for him outside.

“So, you want to go out and celebrate that I didn't completely wipe out?” he said with humor he wasn't completely feeling.

She touched his face, her eyes fierce. “You did better than that—you had one lapse, and I've seen drivers do a lot worse. We should celebrate because you did
well.
”

Reece pulled her in, hugging her tight to his chest, a feeling of warmth and a tangle of other emotions washing over him. To keep himself from thinking about it, he found her mouth, nibbled at it, then kissed her more deeply, soaking up her warmth and her taste and everything that was Abby.

He wanted to hold on to her forever. He loved her, he thought, gazing beyond the open track. The realization
didn't come as a surprise, more of a relief. He'd been struggling with his emotions for days, and it felt good to just set them free. He didn't know if he had room for both loves in his life, but he wanted to try.

B
ACK AT THE ROOM,
Abby was relieved that her stomach had settled and her hands had finally stopped shaking. She hadn't realized how afraid she'd been for Reece until he actually started to drive.

As she watched the bright blue car covered with logos make laps, she'd relaxed and cheered him on, and when he'd lost control for that handful of seconds, her heart thudded in her chest, and she'd found herself propped up by Hannah.

All she could think of was him dying in that car, and it had flattened her.

The thought of life without him was suddenly impossible.

She loved him. It was a mistake, but she knew it clear down to her bones in the second that the car had fishtailed, and she knew she couldn't stand the idea of losing him, or of him being hurt again.

Lost in her thoughts as they entered the condo, she wandered into the bedroom with the idea of freshening up and maybe taking a nap, and saw several large boxes,
all wrapped in bright Christmas wrapping, waiting on the bed.

“What's all this?” she asked Reece, who stood just behind her.

“For you. Open them. This one first,” he said, handing her a large, flat box.

“But…it's not even Christmas yet, and I didn't buy anything for you,” she objected.

“Just open it, Abby,” he said, giving her a patient look.

She did, and set the box down, pulling out the most lovely emerald-green silk dress she had ever seen. A modest scooped bodice was held by lacy spaghetti straps, nipping in at the waist and flaring out around the knee in an ultrafeminine way.

“Reece, it's gorgeous,” she breathed, and she sucked her breath back in, coughing as she saw the name of the designer. “Oh, no…this is too much.”

“It's what I wanted to buy you. I saw it when we were out yesterday, and I knew it would be perfect on you. And it's warm enough to wear it down here,” he said.

“Now?”

“We're going out tonight,” he said. “On a date. We haven't had time for that. We need to make time.”

“Oh. Reece, I'm so—I'm so…” She tried to find words, but she put the dress down and didn't know what to say. She didn't know what this meant, and she hated the confused rush of thoughts, hopes and doubts that crowded her mind.

“Open the others,” he said, pushing her back to the pile of boxes.

“It's too much. The dress is enough.”

“What, are you wearing it barefoot or with your boots?” he teased.

She noticed the size of one of the boxes was perfect for shoes, and leapt on it. She couldn't resist shoes, and he was right, she had to have something for the dress.

When she pulled out the sexy, strappy black stilettos, she groaned. “I think I am in lust,” she said, petting the soft leather.

“I can't wait to see them on you.” He handed her another smaller box, grinning devlishly.

Seeing that he was enjoying her opening the gifts as much as she was enjoying receiving them, she unwrapped the next one, and paused. The box itself was made from black leather with the word
Naughty
embossed on the top.

Taking the lid off, she saw a pair of shiny new handcuffs.

Her heart began to race.

“I want you to wear those tonight, too,” he said. “Later,” he corrected, his eyes burning hot.

She looked up at him. “I can do that.”

The last box, also black leather, said
Nice
on the top.

She smiled. “How can nice be as fun as naughty?”

“Open it and see.”

She did, and saw a small bottle of cinnamon massage oil—edible—and she smiled. She lifted it, opening the bottle, the spicy scent greeting her, and she put a dab on her finger, then tasted it, meeting Reece's eyes.

“That is nice,” she said, drawing her finger out from between her lips in a sexy gesture, watching his jaw become tense with desire.

But there was one more thing in the box, and she pulled out a small black satin bag, from which a sparkling silver chain fell out into her palm. She lifted it with shaking fingers, a flawless emerald teardrop winking at her in the low light of the room.

“It's beautiful, but I can't possibly accept this, Reece,” she said, looking up at him.

He pulled her to her feet, and into his arms for a tight hug followed by a deep kiss.

“Please, I want you to. I want to see you in that dress and the necklace, and then we're coming back here, and it will be my turn to unwrap you,” he said, trailing his tongue down her neck, making her shiver.

 

R
EECE KNEW HE WAS PLAYING
with fire. It'd be hours before he could go back to the room and enjoy Abby's body in every way he imagined.

They sat at a private table at the back of one of his favorite restaurants, the lush bougainvillea and palms surrounding them, a half-finished bottle of wine on the table between them.

Abby was beyond gorgeous in the dress he'd picked out for her when he had snuck out earlier in the day, his plan in place. Hannah had been his coconspirator, and he felt a serious wave of pride and possession as he and Abby had entered the restaurant. He knew every man there envied him, and rightfully so.

Her eyes were as bright as the emerald that lay against her skin, and he got hard every time he thought about their using his other gifts.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, as the band started to play a slow romantic tune.

She smiled, her eyes soft with the effects of wine and their relaxing time together.

Though she kept silent, he stood. “Dance with me, Abby,” he said, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to give her everything, which was the source of his dilemma.

She put her hand in his, and it was like a fantasy as they walked onto the dance floor. Amid other couples who swayed together under the Christmas lights hung round the room, they danced to a sexy jazz version of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.”

He pulled her close, pressing his lower body against her and letting her feel how aroused he was. He smiled into her neck as he felt her fingers curl into his jacket.

The dress was a mere scrap between them—another reason he'd picked it out, and he felt her nipples bead under the thin fabric. He moved to the music, letting his chest brush against them, and felt her shudder.

“Reece,” she breathed, burying her face against his chest, sounding like she was barely holding on.

It was the sexiest moment of his life. They were in the middle of a crowd of people, and he discreetly leaned in to kiss the curve of her neck, while letting his hand brush her pebbled nipple. She came apart in his arms as they danced.

He captured her surprised gasp with a kiss, the shock of sensation moving through her as she moaned into his mouth, the music offering some disguise. He nearly lost control himself, but somehow managed to hold on.

Later, he thought, smiling at the idea of peeling this dress away, using the handcuffs and the oil. However, he wanted her to leave the necklace and stilettos on.

“Reece, that was…” She paused, looking up at him with smoky eyes and flushed cheeks.

“I know,” he murmured, dipping to catch her mouth in another kiss, and keeping her in his arms for several more turns around the dance floor.

He really didn't want this to end—ever—and that was where the danger lay.

The day had been one he wouldn't soon forget—the drive, even though he had had a lapse, was more or less successful, but it was Abby's support that made it shine for him. She made him feel like he could do anything.

She knew he had to leave, that he would go back to racing, and yet she gave herself to him completely, and supported him completely, as well.

He loved her, and he wanted it all—he wanted to race, and he wanted Abby, for good.

He barely noticed the music had stopped, until light applause from the group shook him out of his deep thoughts.

“This has been wonderful,” Abby said, looking up at him. “But can we go back to the condo now? Please?”

Her sexy plea shook him with desire, and he nodded, retrieving her shawl and paying the bill. She was the only Christmas gift he ever wanted.

 

R
EECE SET FORTH,
paying great attention to every aspect of Abby's body. He loved how he could find some new spot that would make her whimper or gasp and when she insistently wove her fingers into his hair, directing him as to what she needed.

She was beautiful but real, smart but modest, sexier
than hell and everything he could ever imagine wanting in a woman.

Limp from his intimate kissing, he carried her to the bed. Slowly he took the sexy shoes off, kissing her ankles and massaging her feet, still sifting through his emotions as he stood to take his own clothes off and join her on the bed.

“No talking,” she said, putting a finger against his lips. “Just make love to me, okay?” He was glad to oblige, covering her completely as he drove deep inside. Bodies moving in harmony, their patience and seduction paid off in a series of powerful orgasms that left them both breathless and hanging on to each other.

“I love you, Abby,” he said, feeling the truth of what he told her as much as anything he had ever known in his life.

She studied him, as if wondering if she had heard correctly.

“Reece,” she said, sighing. “I love you, too.”

He had not realized how he'd been holding his breath.

Joy coursed through him. “I've loved you forever, Abby, it just took me a long time to realize it,” he said, leaning in to kiss her softly, tenderly, trying to communicate everything he was feeling. It seemed impossible. “Come back with me. To France. Please.”

His question hung in the dark between them, and he knew her answer before she even said it.

“I can't…you know that. I mean, I could visit, I could come to see you, but I can't leave the vineyards.”

Everything inside of him sank. “You can. We can make it work.”

They parted, and pushed back on the pillows, facing each other. He had to convince her, somehow.

“Reece, you know how you said racing was your passion, the thing you loved?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She shrugged her shoulder slightly. “That's what the vineyards are for me. I love it there. It's my home, but it's also my passion, and it feels important to preserve that legacy. My parents left me the business they spent their lives building. I can't just abandon that.”

“We could work it out. You could get a manager, and we could come back as often as we needed to—” he said, but she interrupted.

“And what would I do in Europe? Follow you around to the races? As much as I want to be with you, that's not a life I want. And…I don't know if I could do it. It was hard, watching you drive today. I was proud of you, happy for you, but I don't think I could stand there and watch if something bad happened again. I just…couldn't.”

He pulled her in, not wanting her to see how disappointed he was, though he knew she was right. He shouldn't ask her to make this sacrifice for him.

“It's selfish of me to want you to come with me, you're right, and I suppose it's time I face facts. They aren't going to take me back,” he said, weaving his fingers through hers and not wanting to let go. “Maybe Brody is right, maybe another year, or maybe not. Maybe it's time for me to move on to other things.”

“Do you mean…are you saying…?”

“I'll stay. I want to be with you, Abby, and I think today proved that it's the right choice for me to make.”

She was quiet in his arms, and he wanted to see her face.

“You okay? I thought you would be happier.”

“I am,” she said, looking at him closely. “I just don't want you giving up on your dreams for me.”

“Maybe it's just time I learn to chase a new dream, don't you think? One you and I could share together?”

She smiled then, and reached up to kiss him.

Reece let the passion rise again, losing himself in Abby, and setting his doubts aside. He loved her. He was making the right decision. He had to be.