The hell we do, he started to say…but she was right. Time machines existed only in the movies, not in real life.
So he nodded, got to his feet and held out his hand. Holly took it and stood up beside him.
‘You’ve got snow in your hair,’ she said, and gently brushed it away.
There was a catch in her voice. He knew there’d be one in his, too, if he tried to speak. So he took her hand, instead, and brought her palm to his mouth. Hands clasped, they walked slowly to the cabin.
‘I’ll get my things,’ Nick said.
Holly nodded. ‘I’ll wait here.’
He reached the top of the porch steps and looked around. Holly’s back was to him but he knew she was crying.
‘Get it over with,’ he muttered, and reached for the door.
What was the sense in prolonging this? She’d spoken the truth. It was too late to go back. Miracles only came around once in a lifetime. They’d had theirs, and they’d tossed it away.
Determination got him through the door and halfway up the stairs to the bedroom—and then he stopped.
How could he leave her? They had just found each other again. Sure, they’d had their miracle, but who said you only got one in a lifetime?
Wasn’t Christmas all about miracles?
Nick’s jaw tightened. He’d never run from anything in his life, except his marriage. Now, he had a second chance. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe by the time the weekend was over he’d be more than ready to admit that what they’d had was really gone for ever.
But how could he know that, if he left now?
He took a deep breath. All he had to do was convince Holly. And, dammit, that was what he was going to do…
‘Nick?’
He turned at Holly’s whisper. She was standing in the open doorway, looking up at him, her hair wet with snow, her lashes spiky with tears.
‘Holly.’ He came down the steps slowly, searching for the right words, for the right way to say them.
‘Nick,’ she said, ‘oh, Nick, please, please, don’t go!’
And then they were in each other’s arms.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A MOMENT ago, Nick had been searching for the words that would convince Holly to let him stay with her.
Now, with her in his arms, words had no meaning.
At the beginning of their marriage, they’d never been able to get enough of each other. Need had fed on need; coming through the door at night, seeing Holly waiting for him, he’d been gripped with such hunger that there’d been times they hadn’t even made it to the bed before they were in each other’s arms, loving each other.
What he felt now transcended even that.
Desire hammered in his blood and roared in his ears, until the universe was reduced to this moment, and this woman.
His wife.
Nick cupped Holly’s face and lifted it to his.
‘Do you know what you’re asking?’ he said, his voice a rough whisper.
Color flew into her cheeks. She slid her arms around his neck. He felt her fingers curve into the hair at the nape of his neck. She swayed forward, rose towards him, so that they were breast to breast, hip to hip.
‘Yes. Yes, I know,’ she said, as she kissed him.
The kiss drove away whatever remained of Nick’s ability to think. He swung Holly up into his arms, kicked the door shut and carried her through the silent house. Her hands linked behind his head; she buried her face against his neck and kissed his throat, and he told himself to hang on, hang on.
He took her to the blankets that had been their bed throughout the long night. The fire still burned on the hearth; the flames flickered and cast their soft glow over Holly’s lovely face as he lowered her to her feet.
‘I couldn’t have left you,’ he whispered, framing her face in his hands.
She caught his hand in hers, turned it to her lips and kissed the palm.
‘And I couldn’t have let you go.’
Nick bent his head and kissed her mouth. ‘It’s been so long, baby. And I’ve been so lonely without you.’
‘Tell me.’ Her eyes were dark, and deep enough to drown in. She laid her palms against his chest, letting the rapid beat of his heart pulse through the tips of her fingers. ‘I need to know that I haven’t been the only one—’
He silenced her with a long, deep kiss. She tasted just as he remembered, as sweet as honey, as dazzling as champagne. She made a soft, whimpering sound and pressed herself to him, fitting the soft curves of her body to the hard planes of his. He groaned, slid his hands down the length of her spine and under the waistband of her jeans, under her panties, cupping her warm flesh in his hands.
‘Nick,’she whispered, ‘Nick, please…’He curved his hands around her, sought and found the heat between her thighs. She gave a broken sob and said his name again.