Uninhibited (Unlikely Lovers) (36 page)

“Hey, sweetie,”
she said, giving him a smooch. “What’d you do? Buy out the store?”

“Not really.”
Grinning, he carried his burdens into the kitchen and set them down before taking her into his arms for a ruthless hug. “Not sure I ever thanked you for last night. I’ve wanted to fall asleep like that for as long as I can remember. That’s the first time I ever did it.”

She nipped
his earlobe. “I sort of liked that, myself. Got any other ideas?”

“Lots
of them. But we can’t do anything now or we’ll miss Christmas. Maybe when we get home.”

Considering w
hat he’d done upon his arrival the evening before, Emily thought he showed admirable restraint. She laid a hand on his forehead. “Sure you’re not coming down with something?”

He chuckled. “I can hear you now. ‘
I know he
seems
okay, Doc, but he hasn’t fucked me in the past twelve hours. He
must
be sick.’”

Emily consulted her watch. “Has it really been that long?”

“Actually, it has—and believe me, I’ve been counting every minute. The store was an absolute madhouse. I practically had to fight for the stuff I brought home.”

“I know the feeling.
I spent the last hour scrambling to finish, and then I tripped over Stephen and spent the next twenty minutes trying to help him fish a document out from underneath the filing cabinet.”

“
Yeah, I was about to pack up and leave when I had to stop and talk to a guy about painting the store. No worries, though. We’ll settle down and have a nice Christmas Eve dinner with my folks, and then we can come home for our own celebration.”

Comparing those plans to what Emily would’ve done without him almost had her bawling like a baby. “Sounds wonderful. Just let me change clothes real quick, and we can head out.”

“Can I watch?”

“No, or we’ll never get there.
Don’t have to dress fancy, do I?”

“Not at all. This is family, remember?”

With a nod, Emily darted into her room and donned her favorite Christmas sweater—hunter green with white pine trees on the front—black slacks, and a pair of red flats.

She returned to the living room just in time to catch Alan putting presents under the tree. “How’s this?”

“Perfect.” He nodded at the tree. “We did a good job on that, but next year, we need to get a real one.”

Emily’s heart took a nosedive as it struck her that once he
figured out he’d been intimate with her mother, he might not be around next Christmas.

Maybe not even New Year’s Eve.
Holy shit…

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “That sounds great.”

Blinking back sudden tears, she thought about the fun they would have picking out a tree. Would he have a particular type in mind, or would she be the choosy one?

Then she realized she might never
know.

She glanced up to meet his quizzical gaze.

“You okay?” he asked.

“
Yeah. I guess I’m a little nervous about meeting your folks.”

“Don’t be. They’ll love you.”

Clearing her throat, she went on, doing her best to sound normal. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of wine I can contribute to the party. Do I need to bring anything else?”

“No, that’ll be fine.” Cocking his head, he scanned her face
again. “Are you sure there isn’t something wrong?”

Obviously Emily wasn’t as tough as her mother.
She
might not bat an eyelash, but Emily wasn’t that strong—or as good an actress. Especially with Alan asking questions.

Not now. I can’t ruin this now. I can’t. I just can’
t…

“I’m okay. Really.”

Or I will be as soon as I’ve downed a bottle of merlot.

He nodded. “I’ll drive. My stuff is already in the Jeep.”
He picked up her coat. “Ready?”

“Let me grab the wine out of the fridge and I’ll be right with you.”

She hurried into the kitchen, thankful to be out of his sight for a few minutes. Barring trips to the bathroom, he would be by her side all evening. She had to get a grip on herself if she didn’t want to blurt it out in front of his parents.

That would go over real well, wouldn’t it?

Meet the Fockers
in reverse.   

Good
God.

She leaned against the counter, staring at the clock on the microwave.
How many more hours would she have with him? Two? Twenty-four? Even if she made it through this party and the one at his cousin’s, Janice was bound to say something while they were at her house. No way would she be able to keep quiet or disguise her attitude toward Alan. Even if he’d never met their mother, he’d still been the one to drive her friend Carol up the wall and out the window.

It would
’ve been different if Alan had been abusive. There would be no question about staying with him then. His fault was just the opposite. He loved too much, too hard, and with too much passion.

How could there be any such thing as too much love?

There wasn’t. At least, not for her.

She
straightened up and opened the refrigerator. After selecting the wine, she got out a couple of grocery bags and wrapped the bottles so they wouldn’t rattle together. Then, with a deep breath, she picked up the bag and headed for the front door where her adorable Alan was waiting for her.

“All set?”

“You bet,” she replied. “Let’s go.”

* * * *

Alan had been accused of a lot of things with regard to women, but he’d never been told he was insensitive. Emily was hiding something. He could feel it.

Did she regret
having to meet his family tonight? She’d seemed hesitant when he first introduced the idea. Was she simply having second thoughts, or was there more to it?

He’d pushed her pretty hard. He knew that. In a very short time, they’d reached a level of intimacy most people never even came close to achieving. Was it too much too soon?

Probably.
He didn’t even need to ask himself that question. The answer was obvious.

He helped her into the Jeep and then got in
on the driver’s side. Leaning over the console, he cupped her cheek. “I love you, Em. I truly do.”

The words were out of his mouth before he knew he’d said them—before he even knew he
even
intended
to say them.

“
Please don’t be nervous. This is gonna be the best Christmas
ever
. You’ll see. And next year and the year after that on into infinity. I never want to spend another Christmas without you.”

It wasn’t exactly a proposal—more
like a letter of intent—but for him, he might as well have asked her to marry him.

Live
with Emily for the rest of his life? Yeah. He could do that. No problem.

Endure the rest of his life without her?

No fuckin’ way.

He didn’t even wa
it for her reply. Words weren’t enough, nor could he say how he felt with his dick. His kiss said it for him. Sliding his hand to the back of her neck, he pulled her close, his lips brushing hers lightly before deepening into something almost…spiritual.

Alan melted
into her embrace, his tongue slipping past her parted lips as powerful emotions washed through him. Joy, peace, fulfillment, and love. No other words came close to describing the way he felt. The fact that he’d only met her a few weeks before didn’t matter. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

When the kiss finally ended, although she was smiling, tears glittered on her lashes. “I love you too, Alan—more than anyone in the world. I
really want this to work out for us. But sometimes things happen that we don’t always expect. Promise me you won’t—” Her voice broke on a sob. “If there are ever problems, we can work through them. I know we can. We just have to believe in each other.”

“I
do
believe,” he said. “I never thought I would, but I do.” Alan wasn’t completely sure what kind of problems she meant, but at the moment, he didn’t care. “I promise not to go off half-cocked if something goes wrong. Please, don’t ever leave me without saying goodbye. I don’t think I could stand that again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Cupping her cheeks, he wiped her tears away before kissing her again. “And for the record, love really does look exactly like you.”

* * * *

Emily gazed out the window as they drove on toward his parents’ house. Snowflakes swirled in the headlights of oncoming cars and glittered on the surface of the road. Christmas lights shone from many of the houses they passed. Whether the displays were simple or elaborate didn’t matter; all of them were made more beautiful by the falling snow. If Janice hadn’t told her about their mother’s episode with Alan, this would’ve been one of the happiest times of her life—perhaps the happiest of all.

Moments before, s
he’d come very close to telling him about Janice’s revelation. She longed to forget the whole thing—or to pretend it never happened, which was probably how Alan and her mother would deal with the situation. Unfortunately, she knew the truth, and he needed to know that she knew, regardless of the cost. She couldn’t help believing that once he realized who her mother was, that knowledge would stand like a barrier between them, cutting them off from everything they loved about each other.

Her parents wouldn’t be home until the tw
enty-eighth. She had four days to either tell him or sit back and let him find out the hard way.

In another place and time, she would take his hand, tell him what she’d learned, and
swear she loved him anyway.

She’d already said that.
At least, she thought she had. This indecisiveness was a curse. Should she ruin the evening by telling him now? Or should she allow herself four more days to fall even more deeply in love with him before it all fell apart?

Remember t
hat nice lady who made you swear off sex? Her name was Vivian Stewart, right? Well, guess what? She’s my mother.

She could never say it.
She reminded herself that Alan was fragile—at least, in his cousin’s opinion—and she tended to agree with that assessment. She knew how women had treated him in the past. She couldn’t blame him for asking her to promise him the very thing he’d asked of her.

“
Don’t leave me without saying goodbye.”

She doubted that
Carol had truly loved Alan, although loving him might explain why she couldn’t say goodbye to his face. Emily would have a hard time doing that herself.

All too soon, t
hey arrived at his parents’ house. Alan took her hand and helped her out of the Jeep, then led her into the warmth where candles glowed and the air was thick with the scents of turkey, sage, and cinnamon. The house was filled with smiling faces and gentle voices—so unlike the recent gatherings of her own family. She saw Alan’s eyes when she was introduced to his mother—a pretty, gray-haired woman who seemed to have a special smile reserved for her son. 

This was where
Alan had come from. Not an abusive, broken home, but a happy, loving family. He hadn’t suffered some childhood trauma that made him so needy. Nor was he an alien. He was simply a man whose desires were more pronounced than those of other men. There was no rhyme or reason to why he was that way. He simply
was.

Soon, she was laughing along with the rest of them
and enjoying the meal while catching glimpses of Alan smiling at her in a way that promised even greater delights later on. Unfortunately, lodged somewhere in the back of her mind were thoughts that placed limits on her enjoyment, coupled with the suspicion that if things didn’t go well, she might never see these people again. Might never see Alan’s niece and nephew grow up, finish high school, and go off to college. That idea paralyzed her, leaving her far more subdued than she should’ve been.

She
didn’t drink any of the wine, imaging all sorts of horrific outcomes if alcohol were to loosen her tongue. What a scene that would be! Taking Alan aside— No, if she’d been as drunk as she wanted to be, she would’ve blurted it out right there at the dinner table—or worse, while they sat by the tree in the living room to open their gifts.

A
crackling fire burned in the fireplace, and Alan had even brought chestnuts to roast on the hearth. Emily couldn’t imagine a more perfect Christmas Eve, and yet she couldn’t fully enjoy it because she was afraid it would never be repeated—that she didn’t belong there among them and never would.

All because of something she didn’t do and over which she had
absolutely no control.

The determination she’d felt while talking to Janice was failing her now.
She’d put on a brave front, but the strain of maintaining it taxed her strength. Hopefully, Alan would assume she was nervous or simply tired—both of which were true.