Mistletoe Cinderella

this moment. “Shh. It’s okay, you don’t have to put it into words.” He might not be able to throw his best fastball anymore, but physical therapy had left him more than able to scoop her up and carry her toward the bedroom. Since a charitable organization had come by to collect some of the pieces he’d be replacing, such as his nightstand, the bedroom was starker than it had been before, making the bed such a focal point of the room that it might as well have neon flashing arrows over it.

But, of course, arrows angled at him would be negative chi, and Dylan was feeling extremely positive about life right now.

As soon as he’d set her on the foot of the bed, he tugged off his shirt. Then he reached for hers, removing it so quickly it was as if the fabric obligingly disintegrated. She sucked in a breath, causing her chest to swell in the lacy cups of a pale pink bra. Her skin was pale, too, smooth and exquisitely delicate. Pressing her against the mattress, he dropped kisses across her shoulder and collarbone, his fingers tracing circles over her abdomen.

“I came here to tell you something,” she said.

He glanced up, meeting her gaze. “If it was to tell me that you think you’re falling in love with me, the feeling is mutual.”

She froze, her eyes widening. “It is? You are?”

Feeling far shier than he had when he’d first done this at sixteen, he nodded. She plunged her fingers through his hair, pulled him closer and kissed him fervently, putting her whole heart into it. He kissed her back, realizing that for the first time in his life, he had his whole heart to give. He’d always dated, but baseball had been his first love, demanding so much time and concentration. And after confiding in her the other night about his childhood, he felt he’d cleared out emotional cobwebs that had kept him from experiencing everything so vividly before.

His previous encounters with women had been grainy and blurred; Chloe was hi-def.

Kissing the slope of her breast, he was pleased to discover that her bra had a front clasp. He flicked it open with the enthusiastic awe of a boy unwrapping a long-awaited birthday present. Propping himself on an elbow, he simply admired her for a second.

She wiggled, and he wasn’t sure if she was trying to press their bodies closer because she missed the contact or because she was trying to shield herself from his gaze. “I’m not going to be able to talk to you naked,” she fretted.

“Excellent, then we’ll talk later.”

“But, I-”

“It will be okay.” He rubbed a thumb over one pebbled nipple. “It will be more than okay, I promise.” Then he lowered his head to take her in his mouth, and her words faded to gasps.

He managed to get them both undressed, although it was difficult to concentrate on the button and zipper of his slacks with Chloe raking her nails lightly over his chest and running her tongue across his earlobe. The shell-pink panties she wore were silky, but she was far silkier beneath them, hot and wet to his touch. He pressed his thumb against her, almost lost control himself when he slid his finger into her. Her head dropped back, her breathing erotically ragged. Watching her climax was humbling.

“You are magnificent,” he whispered, kissing her and tasting salt on her skin.

It wasn’t until he’d rolled on a condom that he realized the fundamental flaw in his interrupting her earlier. As he sheathed himself in the welcoming tightness of her body, he regretted not being able to call her by name. But if they had to stop now for questions and explanations…So her name became a wordless chant in his mind as he pulled back and slowly thrust. He slid his hands over the sleek muscles of her toned legs, which she’d wrapped around his hips.

Dylan lost himself inside her. Inside her eyes and her touch and the way she quivered around him. When she came a second time, she locked her arms and legs around him and cried his name. It sent him over the edge.

Afterward, he felt dazed and dumbstruck. He wasn’t even sure how much time had passed, although he knew it was late, when Chloe prompted, “Dylan?”

He yawned, his eyes feeling as heavy as two-ton weights. “Hmm?”

Her own voice sounded sleepy but determined. “Are you awake?”

“Definitely not. Best dream of my life,” he said, hugging her.

“Can we talk?”

“In mornin’,” he mumbled. His last waking thought was of how lucky he’d been to go to that reunion.

CHLOE WOKE INSTANTLY, jolted from a dreamless sleep. She felt as if she’d been unconscious for years-a naked and slightly sore Rip Van Winkle. Sunlight spilled around the edges of a window shade in an unadorned window. They’d picked out new window treatments Dylan planned to install this weekend. Dylan!

Emotion spasmed through her, intense joy at what had taken place between them and daunting trepidation that she still hadn’t told him who she really was. Last night she’d said she couldn’t talk to him in the nude, a tactical error on her part. Perhaps she had a better shot of helping him work through his understandable anger if there weren’t a lot of clothes between them.

“Hello?” She listened for the sound of water running or rummaging in the kitchen. “Dylan?”

Her voice echoed in the empty apartment. Confused, she wrapped the sheet around herself, trailing it behind her as she explored the place. No mistake about it, he wasn’t here.

But on the otherwise tidy kitchen counter sat a gold key on a Braves keychain and a note. It took her a second to adjust to his handwriting, definitely the kind described as chicken-scratch.

C,

Had to leave early-damn PR thing. Couldn’t wake you. Stay as long as you want. Lock up when you go.

Call you,

D.

For no good reason, despair filled her. She had next to no experience with mornings after, but while some of them had been awkward, this was the only one that had featured a jotted memo instead of the actual guy. What were you expecting, a sonnet? Well, no. But “last night was the most magical experience of my life” would have been nice. Or at the very least, “love, Dylan.” Even “fondly” would have been an improvement to the terse letter.

She found herself chewing on her thumbnail and she impatiently dropped her hand. Had he really tried to wake her? Sneaking off in the light of day with a vague promise of calling later sounded like the horror stories she’d heard from girlfriends on the unreliability of guys. Stop being so insecure. He’s never given you any reason not to believe him. In point of fact, she was the liar in this relationship.

Oh God. She’d slept with a man under false pretenses. How had she let it get that far? Images played through her mind-the way he’d looked at her, spoken to her, touched her. Okay, she knew how she’d let it happen; she just wished she’d told him the truth first. Now it was going to be doubly hard. She wasn’t even sure when he would be back. Earlier in the week he’d mentioned a publicity function at Turner Field, some sort of all-day event each of Channel Six’s personalities were expected to attend. Should she-

The phone cut into the silence, making her jump. She didn’t answer, figuring that if Dylan wanted to talk to her, he would have tried her cell. A moment later, his voice filled the condo as he told the caller no one was available right now and instructed them to speak at the beep.

“Hey, dude, it’s Nick. Ran into Coach at the bakery and he said it looks as if you’re gonna apply. It will take someone special to fill his cleats-you’d be perfect. And I called ’cause my curiosity is killing me-what happened with Chloe? Next time you’re in town, holler. You, me and Shane will hang out.”

What happened with Chloe?

Nausea swamped her so hard she almost fell, grabbing the edge of the counter to steady herself. He knew! She’d racked her brain trying to figure out how to tell him, and he knew. Had known, last night when he’d made love to her. When he’d interrupted her multiple times as she tried to spit out the truth. Not only did he know, he’d told his buddies about it.

She pressed her hands to her eyes. Had this been a lark for him, or something more sinister like revenge?

While she had been dying a thousand deaths over her deception, had he been planning all along to seduce her and teach her a lesson? Boy, did you let yourself get seduced! They’d gone from first base to scoring pretty damn quickly. She was ashamed of herself. I should have told him sooner, should have