Free Red Hot Christmas by Carmen Falcone, Michele de Winton Page B

“Don’t worry…she’s not being mean…yes I’ll check your closet for shadows…” None of it made sense.
          True to her word she was less than a minute, but he could see on her face that the intimacy of earlier was broken. She wrapped his shirt tightly across her chest. “Sorry. Really. But maybe it’s for the best.”
          “I’m not sure I’d say that.” He reached out a hand for her but she sat on the sofa, just slightly out of reach.
          “Do you think we could…Not tonight…?”
          The sigh escaped his chest came from a place Nicolas had forgotten. A deep, untapped pool of passion that none of his usual dates even got close to stirring. He nodded. There was no use pushing it tonight.  
          As if dismissing her desire opened up her body’s other needs, Gabrielle’s stomach gave a mighty grumble.
          Nicolas smiled. “Let’s eat then.”
          “I should probably just go.”
          “The food is all ready.” Nicolas looked at his watch. “It’s only early, and we haven’t spoken about your plans for the store.” After pulling on his pants he held out a hand for her. “Come. And do me a favor, stay in that shirt. The color suits you.”
          She looked down at the fine organic cotton of his charcoal shirt and shrugged as she rolled up the sleeves and did up a few buttons. Her frame was so small that with a belt it could have easily been a dress.
          Aware of her eyes on him as he walked the short distance to the kitchen, Nicolas toyed with what to say next. He was supposed to be grilling her for proof of her treachery. Not getting swept away by your desires. It was just pent up energy. The frustration of knowing she was hiding something and not being able to get it out of her. Really? Really. Once he’d gotten her in his bed, his head would clear and he’d be able to deal with her quickly and efficiently.
          Let her tell him her plans, she might slip up and give something away. Peeking in the oven, Nicolas discovered his housekeeper had instructed the chef to make one of his favorites—vegetable lasagna with a camembert crust. He turned the oven dial to bring it up to serving temperature. Swiftly cutting a lemon and mixing its juice with virgin olive oil and seasoning, Nicolas waited for Gabrielle to speak.  
          “Do you really want to hear my ideas for the store?”
          “Yes. I’m in business to make people buy things. The grotto makes that happen. At least so says Fraser Kilpatrick.”
          She drew herself up as tall as her five foot one stature would allow. “Okay great.” She pulled at his shirt. “I know you like it, but I’ll just get changed first. It seems weird talking business without any clothes on.”
          He shrugged. “Sure. Bathroom is off the hall on the left if you want to freshen up a little.”
          “Thanks.” She spun and scooped up her clothes in the lounge before heading for the bathroom.
          Nicolas waited for the sound of the lock clicking and then strode to the hall. Fishing in her bag he found what he was looking for and pulled out her cell. He listened carefully for a second—the taps were running in the bathroom. Good. Scrolling through her call log he found the last received number and pressed call.
          Heart hammering, Nicolas waited for the man’s voice to answer.
          “Hello?”
          “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have got the wrong number.” Nicolas hung up. A child had answered. Must have been a wrong number. Gabby didn’t have a child. He let the thought sit with him a moment. After his grandmother had passed he had thought seriously about children for the first time in his life. It’d always been the two of them against the world, and suddenly he was alone. Again. He’d built an entire empire with the Morganti name but he was the last of the line.
    But, kids? They got