Free Making Spirits Bright by Fern Michaels, Rosalind Noonan, Nan Rossiter, Elizabeth Bass Page A

next to him when he woke up in the morning. He wanted to wrap himself around her, wanted to make love to her until they were both pleasantly exhausted. And he would, as soon as he felt the time was right.
    He wasn’t the man-about-town a lot of women thought he was. Not that Melanie had implied this to him, but he knew what his so-called reputation was on campus, and somehow he knew it would follow him for the rest of his life. If only he’d had such luck in high school. Gangly and tall, with crooked teeth and the beginnings of acne, he didn’t seem to appeal to any one particular girl. He’d dated in high school and had his first serious relationship in his second year of college. He’d thought Diana was the love of his life until he caught her sleeping with his dorm mate. In his bed. A life lesson, Grace had said, and she was right.
    Since Diana, he’d dated a few women, even slept with a few that he thought he cared about, but he’d never felt such instant attraction for any woman, nothing like what he was feeling for Melanie. Until now, he’d never believed in love at first sight, or rather, at first splash. He suddenly realized he’d never believed in it because he hadn’t experienced it. And now? He looked around the bare but quaint bedroom. Pine chest of drawers, two twin beds with the night table separating them. Max’s magazine covers framed and hung neatly on the wall opposite the beds. Everything looked the exact same way it had the last time he’d slept in this room.
    The only difference: now he was seeing it through the eyes of a man in total, absolute love.
    Love. He’d fallen head over heels. Big-time.

Chapter 12
     
    “I can’t believe you’ve spent your entire life in the fine state of Colorado and never chopped down your own Christmas tree. It’s practically unheard of,” Melanie joked, as they trudged through ankle-deep snow. The day was bitter cold, but at least the sun was out. A perfect day to cut down a tree.
    “Yeah? Well I know something else that’s unheard of,” Bryce said.
    Winded, Melanie stopped to catch her breath. “What’s that?”
    Bryce dropped the canvas bag of tools on the snow-crusted ground next to his sturdy boots. “This.” He wound his hand around her loose hair, something he’d been wanting to do all day. With his free arm secured firmly around her waist, Bryce kissed her with all the pent-up emotions he’d spent the past forty-eight hours confronting—kissed her because he wanted to and because he could. Her response matched his. Both were eager to take their passion one step further, but Bryce wanted to wait until the timing was right. Or that’s what his brain kept telling him. Another part of him said, forget timing, but that part would have to wait. He drew away from her but kept both arms wrapped around her waist. “You taste like chocolate.” He licked his lips, teasing her.
    She grinned the grin of the cat that ate the canary. “Think it has anything to do with that cup of hot cocoa I drank before we left?”
    He nibbled at the tender spot where her shoulder met her neck. “Mmm, I’ve never done this,” she muttered between kisses, “while searching for the perfect tree.”
    “There’s a first time for everything,” Bryce whispered, sending chills down her spine.
    Melanie nodded in agreement. “This isn’t the place ... it’s too cold.” She visibly shivered. “Let’s go find my Christmas tree before I turn into an icicle. I don’t remember it ever being this cold, do you?” She moved away from him and grabbed the bag of tools by his feet. He took them from her, and she let him. He was a true gentleman, and she found that she liked that about him. Kind of an old-fashioned sort of guy. Women’s libbers would not approve, that’s for sure. She laughed out loud.
    “What?” he asked. “Tell me what you’re laughing at.”
    Melanie plodded along, content to have Bryce by her side. “It might not be funny to you. But I can see