Jennifer Probst - The Holiday Hoax

“What the hell?” His yell barely registered under the sudden shock as three teenage boys came into view. Piles of snowballs held in their hands like machine gun artillery, they stared at him with disrespect and impatience.

“Sorry, man, you got caught in the crossfire.”

“Yeah, dude, hope you weren’t hurt.” The second teen’s words ended in a snicker, obviously disgusted at the idea of a grown man not able to take a few snowballs.

Aidan opened his mouth to defend his wimpy actions but five feet of bristling feminine fury jumped in front of him.

“How dare you hit Mr. Hunter?” Isabella spit out, her finger jabbing at each of them. “Peter, Mark, Tommy, you should be ashamed of yourselves. You know the rules about snowball fights. Before you fire, you look for innocent bystanders.”

Aidan’s mouth dropped open. He waited for the gangly, testosterone tempered teens to bitchily complain to her, or make fun of her tirade, but to his astonishment, they all looked abashed. “Sorry, Ms. Summers.” Mark dropped his head. “Didn’t see you.”

“Who was your target?” Isabella demanded.

Tommy raised a finger to point to another group of boys behind a large spruce. The group bent over in hysterics, obviously loving the idea of an elementary teacher giving their friends hell.

“Well, you could have hurt him. Next time watch what you’re doing.”

“Yes, Ms. Summers.”

Aidan huffed with indignation. Hurt? She actually thought a few snowballs would hurt? He gazed at her in astonishment, but her glance confirmed his suspicions. She actually thought he was pissed off. Aidan almost laughed out loud. What type of men did she date anyway? Did she really think he was a stuffy city boy afraid of a bit of snow and some teens? Maybe it was time to show her how loud he could roar...

While she was distracted still disciplining her charges, Aidan ducked and made a few icy balls in the next few seconds. Then hid them under his jacket as he stood up.

“Now, apologize to Mr. Hunter.”

The three boys literally rolled their eyes at him. Mutters of “sorry” hit the air.

“It’s okay,” he said gruffly. “Just watch it next time.”

They began walking away. “Aidan, are you okay?” she asked gently.

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” He spun on his heel. “Hey, boys!”

The three teens turned.

With rapid fire, he clocked each of them in the face with three perfectly launched pitches. Isabella sucked in her breath. He watched with satisfaction as Mark, Tommy and Peter spit out snow and blinked in pure astonishment at the maneuver.

“Good enough to be on your team, man?” Aidan asked.

Tommy grinned. The other two gave the thumbs up signal.

“Aidan, what are you doing?” she cried.

Aidan pressed a quick kiss to her lips and let out a whooping war cry. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll be fine. I’m charging into battle and we’re gonna kick a little ass!”

The teens yelled out in agreement and Aidan raced toward the spruce, already mentally forming his attack.

As he joined in the energetic snowball fight, he realized he’d never been happier in his entire life.

* * *

Isabella watched Aidan jump out and pummel a teen boy who held out his arms in a fake shield, then fell back in defeat. Her boyfriend roared his victory and high-fived Mark in an all male ritual she never truly understood.

Boyfriend?

The term flashed insistently in neon color. Was Aidan Hunter her boyfriend? They’d only been together for two weeks. Two wonderful, snowy, cozy, perfect weeks, but much too limited a period to throw the word around so casually. She winced at the awful adolescent phrase, yet her heart beat like a galloping stampede of wild horses.

They hadn’t discussed the future, but Isabella sensed his emotions were real. After her huge mistake in Manhattan, she’d been careful of letting a man sneak past her barriers. Aidan may not talk about his past, and she sensed he struggled with some identity issues, but his heart rang true. The naked gleam of desire mingled with an open happiness and connection she never experienced before.

Tonight she needed to take the next step in their relationship.

A shiver raced down her spine. She’d ached to feel his warm hands on her naked flesh, to give herself entirely to him. Snuggled in the comfort of his embrace in the snowbank, his kiss gave her the answers she sought. His hot tongue and hard body fueled her need for more of him, but she’d finally crossed the invisible barrier of trust. His kiss promised no lies.

Isabella trusted this man enough to take the leap from friend to lover.

Images of a sheer black nightie and a romantic evening by the fireplace danced behind her lids. Tonight, everything would change between them. And she was ready.

As if he guessed her thoughts, Aidan turned his head and gave a naughty wink.

She hoped the gesture was not a precursor of their evening. The moment of distraction cost him as a ball of ice and snow cracked against his jaw and he staggered back. His team deftly protected him, but Isabella couldn’t control her giggles as he shook his head and frozen flakes flew around his head in a burst.

When she recovered from her hysterical fit, he stood a few feet in front of her. His eyes gleamed wickedly. Droplets of water slid from his soaked hair and traveled over the carved lines of his face. And his hands were full of snowballs.

She sucked in her breath. “Don’t you dare!”

“Think something’s funny, Isabella?” he asked calmly, one brow raised.

She stuck both arms in front of her. “Aidan! Stay away from me.”

Then he grinned. “Never.”

As he charged, Izzy let out a shriek and raced for her life.

Aidan finished putting the final touches on dinner and set out a bottle of wine. The kitchen filled with the tantalizing aromas of fresh tomatoes and garlic. He sliced crusty Italian bread and placed chunks of mozzarella on the plate, then stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Perfect. He needed everything to be perfect tonight.

Because tonight he was telling her the truth.

Aidan fought off the nervous tug in his gut and poured the wine. For the past two weeks, they’d been together every evening. Each time he tried to confess, she turned those sparkling umbrella blue eyes on his, and her smile lit up her face, until he told himself he needed more time.

But time was running out.

He was due to return to the city and his responsibilities after Christmas. The Pasta King restaurant chain was a demanding business, and as second in command, he needed to be his father’s eyes and ears. But he was tired of working in the city under his father’s reign. He’d wanted this time upstate at the cabin to really discover what he wanted. Now he knew, but had no idea how to get it.

He wanted Isabella.

But would she want him when she learned his true identity?

The question had no time to be answered. The doorbell rang.

He opened it and his breath caught. Her honey colored curls tumbled over her shoulders, and her face was open and happy, her heart literally worn on her sleeve for him to see. Aidan had never met a woman who gave herself so freely and unselfishly, not asking for anything back. She was truthful, headstrong, and passionate. She was the woman he’d been spending his whole life looking for, and tonight he wanted no more secrets between them.

“I brought pastries from the bakery.” She held up a small box.

She wore a fuchsia pink turtleneck, hip hugging jeans, and low heeled boots. Golden hoops flirted with her hair as she turned her head. Her lips were painted in bright pink to match her shirt.

“Did you sneak any before you came?” he asked, studying her with narrowed eyes.

Isabella looked shocked. “Of course not!”

“We’ll see about that.” He pulled her close and kissed her. Like old lovers, her body peaked and responded to his with unconscious ardor, as his tongue thrust into her mouth to taste and stroke. His hands came around her body to grab her buttocks and arch her closer. He swallowed her moans with masculine pleasure. “Hmm, you’re right, you weren’t lying.”

She pushed him away in mock outrage and made her way into the cabin. “Very cute. You better feed me, buster. I’m starving.”

They feasted on the meal and drank wine under the mistletoe. After two heaping plates of pasta, she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied groan. Her sated expression tempted him to satisfy her in a whole lot of other ways. Most involved her being stripped naked and lying open for him. He fought a shudder and reached for patience.

“How did you learn to cook so well?” she asked.

Aidan sipped his wine and smiled at the memory. “God, I hate to say I was a mama’s boy. But I kind of was.” She laughed. “Since I was an only child, I grew up in the kitchen. My mother cooked night and day. Homemade pasta cranked by hand. Hunks of sausage and meatballs simmering in gravy for hours. I learned how to pick a fresh vegetable and the best way to carve meat before I even hit a baseball.” He shook his head. “Cooking made her happy. She’d invite cousins, neighbors, friends to the table. Most of my memories centered around meals.”

Isabella propped her face in her hands with a dreamy expression. “That sounds so wonderful. I’d love to meet your mom.”

Pain cut through him like a dull edged knife. “She died a few years back.”

She immediately reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Aidan, I didn’t know. That must have been hard on you, especially so young.”

“Yeah, it pretty much sucked. My father was more of the workaholic, disciplinarian. I love him, of course, but my mother always caught the big picture. My dad looked at life with more of a narrow view, so we clashed.”

“Is this why you don’t want to be involved with his business?”

Aidan closed his eyes. He needed to tell her. Everything. His heart pounded with nervous anticipation. Would she understand? Would she forgive him for keeping the truth from her? “I want to tell you more about the business, Isabella. Why don’t I set out the pastries, put more wood on the fire, and we’ll talk?”

“Sounds like a plan.” They cleaned up together and Aidan put on a pot of coffee while she sang “A Holly Jolly Christmas” in an uneven melody that made him laugh.

“Let me use the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” she said.

“Okay, I’ll put another log on the fire.” He walked to the woodpile and reminded himself they had deep feelings for one another. This was more than a one-night stand. He wanted a permanent relationship with Isabella, and he’d bet she felt the same. The way she looked at him with her heart in her eyes couldn’t lie.

He closed the door, stoked the fire, and turned.

Then froze.

Isabella stood in the doorway. She wore a tiny black lace slip that cupped her full breasts, skimmed her curvy hips, and halted mid-thigh. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in full burnished glory, and a faint blush touched her cheekbones as she shifted her bare feet and stared at him.

“Aidan?”

His name floated to his ears in a breathy whisper, rich with promise, husky with desire. Every thought he’d ever had, every emotion he ever experienced, all fled in the midst of the woman across the room, waiting for him to answer her.

He closed the distance between them in three quick strides and took her in his arms.

His fingers met silky, warm skin, and soft, full curves. He twisted his fingers in the thick waves of hair and tugged, exposing the delicate line of her throat and rapidly beating pulse. She moaned low in her throat and Aidan drank in her scent, punch drunk like a vampire about to feast. Her arousal drifted to his nostrils, and he bent his head to run his tongue down the vulnerable curve of her neck, nibbling, then sank his teeth gently into her skin.

She cried out and arched in his arms. With a low murmur of satisfaction, he scooped her into his arms, walked into the bedroom, and laid her on the bed.

His head pounded with an urgency he rarely felt when claiming a woman, and he shed his clothes in minutes to join her on the bed. Aidan took her mouth for a deep hungry kiss, while he tugged the delicate straps of her slip down over her shoulders. Bared to the waist, he stared at her ripe curves with delight, and she squirmed under his gaze, obviously uncomfortable at such rapt attention. Aidan bent his head, grasped one ruby nipple between his lips and sucked. The contrast between her soft skin and the hardness of her nipple made him crazy, and he rubbed his five o’clock shadow between her breasts as he kept up a steady suction. Her head tossed back and forth on the pillow as he pleasured her. Her breasts gleamed wetly in the moonlight, and he muttered his approval as he gently took one rigid tip between his teeth and tugged.