New Year’s Kisses (7 page)

New Year’s Day, Twelve Months Later

Em raised her face to the sun and savoured the salty breeze brushing across her skin. It was another glorious day on Sydney Harbour except this one had added sparkle. Lifting her hand, she watched the sun catch on the square-cut diamond ring on her left hand. The gold band shined where it curved around her finger. She couldn’t believe Wade had not only found the perfect ring, but also the right size.

“You know if you keep flashing that around you’re going to blind people.” Wade’s laughing words floated over the deck from where he stood behind the wheel.

“I’m not the one who bought such a large diamond.” She grinned at him.

“I can take it back and swap it for a smaller one,” he offered.

“Don’t you dare!” She whipped her hand behind her back.

He laughed out right now, the deep rumbling kind that came from the bottom of his belly. Or perhaps even his soul. He’d laughed so much more over the last twelve months. Emily didn’t need Vee to tell her how much happier he was now that she’d come into his life. She’d seen it herself, the slow but steady crawl from the shell he’d surround himself with after his parents death. It was as though he’d been going through the motions, not really living until she’d given him a reason to.

She had another surprise for him later. One neither of them had expected this soon, but one Em knew he’d be thrilled with. Her house had sold two days ago and she’d promised him once that happened she’d move in with him. Only now she had one more reason to completely join their lives. Without thought, her hand drifted over her flat stomach. It wouldn’t stay that way for long. And if her calculations were right, that bout of flu last October meant they were well on their way to being connected for the rest of their lives.

“When are you going to tell me?” Wade’s question had her jerking around to face him.

“Tell you what?” Surely he hadn’t guessed? She hadn’t known until last week when she’d gone in for her annual check up.

“How far, Emily?” He walked towards her, his stride sure, purposeful. “I’m guessing three months.”

“How–”

“You forget I know your body better than my own. After you were so sick last spring, you lost all that weight, but your breast got bigger. And there’s a slight swelling here in the last few weeks.” Wade crouched down beside her and put his palm on her stomach where hers had so recently been. “And there’s been a few other indicators I could point out.”

Emily pouted. Yet again he’d read her like a book. Wait, if he’d suspected for so long… “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just did.”

“No, before now.”

“What was I supposed to say? Em, I think you’re pregnant?”

“Yes!” She scrambled round to sit on her knees. “I had no idea until the doctor came in with the little stick she used to check my wee last week. No clue!”

“But you’re happy, right?” Worry wrinkles formed between his eyebrows.

Emily launched herself at him, her arms squeezing tight around his neck. “Yes. God, yes. It’s earlier than we planned, but I’m so excited I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep from blurting it out.”

Wade stood with her in his arms and spun them around. Dizzy with delight, Em threw her head back and laughed. When he stopped spinning, he cradled the back of her head and pulled her mouth to his. For long moments they lost themselves. It was always the same. Whenever Wade kissed her, Emily’s mind became a blank slate with only need for him etched on it. The boat rocked beneath their feet and they broke apart just as someone on a passing yacht yelled out “get a room”.

Grinning Wade said, “Happy New Year, Emily.”

“You’re a bit late.”

“Actually…” He glanced at his watch. “Nope, three o’clock, so it’s midnight in Halifax.”

Emily dropped her forehead to Wade’s chest and laughed until tears streamed down her face. The man was insane. Every hour, on the hour, from nine p.m. New Year’s Eve, ‘til ten p.m. New Year’s Day he had a country they could go to so he could steal a kiss. He still hadn’t worked out he didn’t need to steal them, but she wasn’t about to enlighten the man. She couldn’t think of anything better than having over twenty-four hours of New Years kisses with Wade.

Rhian Cahill is the alter ego of a stay-at-home mother of four. With motherly duties rapidly dwindling, Rhian is able to make use of the fertile imagination that kept her sane during those years of slavery. Years living overseas and visiting tropical climates have helped inspire some steamy stories. Multi-published in erotic romance, Rhian — with the help of Mr. Muse — spends her days and nights writing.

When not glued to the keyboard, you’ll find her book in hand, avoiding any and all housework as much as possible. For more on Rhian, visit her website
www.rhiancahill.com
or you can contact her at [email protected] or connect with her on Twitter –@RhianCahill or Facebook – RhianCahillAuthor.

ISBN: 978-0-85799-005-1

Title: New Year’s Kisses

Copyright © 2012 by Rhian Cahill

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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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The squeak of brakes and the blare of a horn told Dean he was out of time.

“Shit.”

Dean opened the top drawer of his dresser where empty space greeted him. The second drawer proved no better. Frowning, he spun around in search of his laundry bag.

“Shit.” He’d forgotten to pick it up at the Laundromat yesterday.

The horn blasted again.

Dean tugged a clean pair of jeans from their hanger and stepped into them. In spite of the summer heat, shorts weren’t a good idea seeing how he’d be swinging in the breeze and the last thing he wanted was a wayward little kid’s hand finding its way up his pant leg. Hopefully the bulk of his time would be spent inside the daycare center where the air conditioning would be pumping out cool air. A longer horn blast sounded as his watch beeped.

“Shit!”

Dean grabbed a t-shirt and shoved his feet into runners as he rushed from the room. He picked up his wallet and keys as he passed the kitchen counter, but lost his grip on both when he flung open the front door. On the fly, he exited the house while his wallet and keys flew back inside a second before the door slammed shut.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” He spun around to stare at the locked door.

Behind him, Talli tooted her horn again. Dean looked skyward. This day was going from bad to worse. And for the first time in history, Tallitha Jarmen wasn’t running late.

Dean unlocked his fingers and let go of the
oh-shit
handle in Talli’s car. She wasn’t a good driver at the best of times, add in some heavy traffic due to the Christmas rush and a deadline that meant kids would be disappointed if she didn’t show up, and Talli was downright dangerous.

“Jesus. We’ll be lucky if we get there in one piece,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I heard that.” She swung the wheel to the left and he grabbed the handle again. “As much as you dig at my driving, I’ve never had an accident that was my fault you know.”

Dean snorted. “Might not have been by the law, but woman, you’re like an oil spill. Get just a little too close and the shit hits the fan.”

“Just for that you can walk home,” she huffed.

He laughed. “Now where have I heard that one before…?”

Talli looked away from the road long enough to poke her tongue out and give him heart failure.

“Watch the damn road, woman!”

“I’m watching, I’m watching.” He cringed as she zipped around a slow car without indicating. “Anybody would think I’d barely passed my driver’s test.”

“You did barely pass and if you hadn’t worn a low cut blouse and mini-skirt you wouldn’t have.”

Their birthdays were a week apart so they’d gone for their licenses together, just one of many milestones they’d shared over the years. When Talli turned up at his house in a black leather mini and white tie-front shirt he’d known right then regardless of her driving skills she’d be the one coming home with a license. He’d been right too. Dean had failed and had to re-sit the test the following week. The memory put a smile on his face and distracted him long enough for them to reach their destination without any more heart palpitations.

“We’re here.” Talli braked hard, sending them both jolting forward. “Now once we get inside, I’ll show you where to get changed.”

“Changed?”

“And then we’ll get down to taking the pictures.”

She was out of the car and heading for the trunk before he could get another word out.
Changed?
What did she mean by changed? Dean tried to recall the original conversation as he climbed out of the car, but for the life of him he didn’t remember anything about changing. He didn’t have any more time to dwell on it though; as soon as he reached the back of the car, Talli began shoving small boxes of equipment at him. Left with the choice of dropping them or holding on, he did the only thing he could and held on tight. With arms full, he followed Talli into the building.

And walked into utter chaos.

The noise level was deafening and there were kids running everywhere. Dean tensed, waiting for impact. He clamped his arms tighter around the boxes, the cardboard squashing a little under the pressure, but nothing happened. It was only after peering around his armload that he noticed the conveniently place pool fencing just inside the front door. Someone had obviously thought the kids needed a corral and, while that might not be politically correct, it certainly seemed true.

Glancing around, Dean could see only four adults in the room. They were outnumbered by at least twenty children ranging from crawlers to those racing full speed on tiny legs. He shuddered at the thought of going in, but knew he had no hope of escape now he was here. His knowledge of kids came from television and the occasional encounter at the supermarket. The next few hours would certainly prove to be an education. A harried looking woman rushed over, dodging kids as she made her way towards them.

“Oh, good. You’re here.” The woman leaned over the fence and took one of the boxes from Dean.

“Sorry we’re late.”

“No worries, Talli. This way. I’ll show you where to set up and where you can get changed.”

With enviable skill, the woman juggled the box, then took a couple of bags from Talli, and popped the child-proof lock on the gate. Talli nudged him through ahead of her. Smart woman. He was more than ready to bolt back to the car and lock himself inside. At that moment one of the kids lying on the floor let out a blood curdling scream, but as none of the adults rushed to his side Dean figured there wasn’t an imminent medical emergency. He’d taken another couple of steps when two boys raced past him, the first cutting in behind him to run full circle around him.

Dean dodged, stumbled, and the boxes in his arms teetered. It took no more than a second, but seemed like a lifetime. The top box slipped. He lunged forward with a grunt just as the woman in front turned around. Demonstrating an athletic ability to rival any Olympian, she scooped the top box from the pile and steadied the remaining ones with her shoulder.

“Sorry about that.” She turned to the boys playing tag around his legs. “Joshua Bowmen and Nathan Bicknell, take yourselves outside if you’re going to play tag.”

To Dean’s surprise, both boys took off across the room, hollering and hooting as they went out the open doors. He could see more kids outside and again fought the urge to flee. Talli nudged him from behind; there was no getting out of what he’d agreed to do.

“Keep going. It’ll be a rush to be ready before the parents get here as it is. Don’t need you dawdling.” She bumped him again. “C’mon, Dean, move it.”

With only one choice, he followed the woman in front. They crossed the room full of kids and moved into a larger one filled with rows and rows of seats. The area in front of the chairs was set up with a large Christmas tree and a throne that was obviously meant for Santa. A rock settled in Dean’s stomach and he turned his head to look at Talli.

“Tell me I am not dressing up as Santa,” he growled.