Wicked Christmas Nights. Leslie Kelly

of the weekend he’d meant when he talked about them spending this holiday together.

      And how much she wanted him to mean.

      It was crazy, considering she’d dated Jude for three months and had barely let him onto second base, with one unsatisfying attempt to steal third. But she already knew she wanted Ross to hit the grand slam. What she felt when she was with him—savoring the warmth of his hand in hers, quivering when his arm accidentally brushed against her body, thrilling to the sound of his voice—was undiluted want. She’d heard it described, but now, for the first time, she felt it.

      She knew she should slow it down. But something—not just the instant physical attraction, but also his warm sense of humor, his generosity, the sexy laugh—made him someone she didn’t want to let get away. So, when they got back to her building, she intended to invite him up for a drink. And then see what happened. Or make something happen.

      She and Kate shared a small efficiency, whose rent was probably as much as a mortgage payment for places outside the city. Right now, the apartment was empty. Kate had left for the holidays—she’d called two hours ago, right before Teddy was picking her up. So the place was all Lucy’s for the weekend.

      Hmm. Was it possible she was within hours of getting it at last? she didn’t mean getting laid, she meant finally understanding. Finally grasping what it was like to be so overcome by pleasure that you lost track of the rest of the world.

      Her steps quickened. She was so anxious to get home, to start finding out if the weekend included nights or only daytime hours, she didn’t notice when Ross stopped walking. She finally realized it and looked over her shoulder, seeing him a half-dozen steps back. He stood in the middle of a crowded Sixth Avenue sidewalk, and was gazing up toward the sky.

      No. Not the sky. Those twinkling lights weren’t stars. Instead, thousands of tiny bulbs set the night aglow, their gleam picked up by a sea of sparkling ornaments gently held in the arms of an enormous evergreen.

      “Can you believe this is the first time I’ve seen it?” Ross asked, staring raptly at the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.

      “Seriously?”

      He nodded. “It’s my first Christmas in the Big Apple, and I haven’t happened to be over this way for the past few weeks.”

      Lucy might be Ebenezer’s long-lost twin sister, but she couldn’t be a scrooge when it came to seeing Ross with that delighted expression on his face. He looked like a kid. A big, muscular, incredibly handsome, sexy-as-sin kid.

      She returned to his side, looking up at the tree. It was beautiful against the night sky, ablaze with light and color. Even her hardened-to-Christmas heart softened at the sight.

      Saying nothing, Ross led her toward an empty bench ahead. It was night and the crowds had thinned to near-reasonable levels.

      She sat beside him on the bench, giving him time to stare at the decor. But to her surprise, he instead looked at her. “Since this is probably as close to a tree as you’re going to get this year, do you want to open your present now?”

      She glanced at the tattered box, which she’d lugged around all day. She could wait and open it when she got home, but somehow, this moment seemed right. “I already know what it is.”

      “Really?”

      “Well, not specifically.” She began plucking the still-damp packaging paper from the box. “Sam and I have this tradition.”

      “I suspect it’s a nontraditional one.”

      “You could say that.” She actually smiled as she tore off the last of the paper and lifted the lid. Jude might have broken her gift, but it was the joy of seeing what Sam had found that delighted her. No broken glass could take that away from her.

      “Oh, my God,” Ross said, staring into the mound of tissue paper inside the box. “That is…is…”

      “It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” Lucy said. She lifted her hand to her mouth, giggling. Jude’s petty destruction hadn’t done much to make this thing less appealing, because it had already been pretty damned hideous. “Isn’t it perfect?”

      His jaw dropped open and he stared at her. “Seriously?”

      “Oh, yeah,” she said with a nod. Then she lifted the broken snow globe, now missing glass, water and snow, and eyed the pièce de résistance that had once been the center of it. Sitting on a throne was the ugliest Santa Claus in existence. His eyes were wide and spacey, his face misshapen, his coloring off. His supposedly red suit was more 1970’s disco-era orange, and was trimmed with tiny peace signs. Beside him stood two terrifyingly emaciated, grayish children who looked like they’d risen from their graves and were about to zombiefy old St. Nick.

      Hideous. Awful.

      She loved it.

      “Oh, this is so much better than what I got him—a dumb outhouse Santa complete with gassy sound effects.”

      “Do you always give each other terrible presents?”

      “Just for Christmas. He gives me snow globes, I give him some obnoxious Santa, often one that makes obscene noises.”

      He chuckled. “My sisters would kill me if I did that.”

      “It started as a joke—a distraction so we wouldn’t have to think too much about the way it used to be. And it stuck.”

      She couldn’t be more pleased with her gift—unless, of course, it weren’t broken. But she wouldn’t let Sam know about that part. The center scene was the key.

      Smiling, Lucy tucked the base of the globe back in the box, trying to avoid any bits of glass. But when she felt a sharp stab on her index finger, she knew she hadn’t been successful. “Ow,” she muttered, popping her fingertip into her mouth.

      “Let me see,” he ordered.

      She let him take her hand, seeing a bright drop of red blood oozing on her skin.

      “We should go get something to clean this.”

      “It’s okay, we’re not too far from my place…as long as you’re ready to leave?”

      He rose, reaching for the now-open box, and extending his other hand to her. She gave him her noninjured one, and once she was standing beside him, he dropped an arm across her shoulders. Ross took one last look at the famous tree. Then, without a word, he turned to face her.

      “I know this is cheesy and right out of a holiday movie,” he said, “but I’m going to do it anyway.”

      She wasn’t sure what the it was, but suddenly understood when he bent to kiss her. People continued to walk all around them, street musicians played in the background, skaters called from the icy rink below. But all that seemed to disappear as Lucy opened her mouth to him, tasting his tongue in slow, lazy thrusts that soon deepened. It got hotter, hungrier. Both of them seemed to have lost any hint of the restraint that had kept them from getting this intense during their previous kiss.

      Ross dropped his arm until his hand brushed her hip, his fingertips resting right above her rear, and Lucy quivered, wanting more. A whole lot more.

      “Get a room!” someone yelled.

      The jeer and accompanying laughter intruded on the moment. Sighing against each other’s lips, they slowly drew apart.

      “Thank you,” he said after a long moment, during which he kept his hand on her hip. “I can check that off my bucket list.”

      “Kissing in front of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree?”

      “No. Kissing you in front of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.”

      She couldn’t keep the smile off her face as they began walking the several blocks to her apartment building. Ross carried not only the bag with his robotic dinosaur, but also her snow globe. He had insisted