The Mistletoe Effect Page 9

  Oh. He was escorting her home. Literally. She pasted a smile on her lips as disappointment flared inside her. The promise of twenty-five days of sex and companionship with Decker had been the one part of the whole cockamamie Mistletoe Effect jinx prevention scheme that had made it palatable. Not only that, but how were they going to convince the hotel guests and employees that they were married if they weren’t living together?

  No more than a few steps through the crowd, he patted her hand. “You remember when you promised you’d tell me what you wanted?” At her nod, he added, “This is one of those times. I can tell you’re thinking something that you’re not telling me, so speak up, woman. I am a terrible mind reader.”

  Rather than try to explain herself over the din of the music and wedding crowd, she waited to answer until they were heading down the grand staircase that led to the lobby. “I want to stay at your house. Husband and wife, like we agreed on.”

  Judging by the way he flinched and stopped with one foot on the stair below them, her candid answer caught him by surprise. “I guess I was unclear about what was happening tonight. Sorry. I got a little flustered seeing you and it didn’t come out right. Let me try again.”

  Decker, flustered? That would be the day.

  He stepped fully onto the lower stair and spun to face her, their faces almost level. Bracing his hands on her shoulders, he locked gazes with her. “Carina Decker …” He gave her time to roll her eyes as the new surname before continuing. “You are coming home with me tonight and every night until Christmas. Before we get to that, I thought we might ride to your place and pack you an overnight bag so you don’t have to modify any more of my clothes to fit you tomorrow morning. I figured you could take your time packing for the long term when you got a break in your work schedule over the next few days.”

  She ran a finger along his jaw, trying and failing not to smile at his earnest declaration. “Oh. Okay, then.”

  His gaze flitted to her mouth; then he leaned in, notching his lips with hers in a sweet, soft kiss that was light-years away from last night’s wicked kisses.

  When the kiss ended, he slid his hand into hers, twining their fingers. “Let’s get out of here. I’m ready to have you to myself.”

  Decker led the way through the employee offices on the main floor to the exit door that led to the employee patio. Once outside, Carina stopped short at the sight of two of the ranch’s horses, saddled but unmanned, both tethered to a tree. There wasn’t a golf cart or truck in sight.

  She motioned to the horses. “When you said ‘ride,’ this isn’t what I had in mind.”

  As if he’d understood her, the chocolate-colored gelding on the right snorted and gave a shake of his head. Decker smoothed a hand over the horse’s mane. “How long’s it been since you’ve been riding?”

  She thought back, way back, but couldn’t picture the last time she’d done more with a horse than admire from a distance how fine a figure Decker cut while astride one. “I work six days a week. Except for the month of December, when I work seven.”

  “I know that.”

  She hadn’t meant to sound defensive. Funny how often that seemed to happen when she talked about her job.

  “All these years, I’ve been watching how much of yourself you put into this place,” Decker said. “I know how hard you work. I thought you might appreciate a ride tonight, is all. If you’re too chicken to take a chance on ol’ Snowflake, here, then we can call for a golf cart. But the deal is you have to tell me straight up. None of this pussyfooting around the truth like you did before you were a Decker.”

  Before she was a Decker. She loved the way that sounded, as though she belonged to him, which didn’t make sense, because she was filled with Briscoe pride through and through. She’d assumed that when she got married she’d retain her maiden name. Then again, she and Decker weren’t really married and playing the role of Mrs. Decker turned her on something fierce.

  “So I’m changing my last name now?”

  “I hope you don’t mind, because, uh, I might have declared just such a thing today.”

  Carina failed to suppress a groan. “Did Granny June corner you with the journalists? Sorry about that. Granny can be a little too …” Carina hunted for the right word.

  “Charismatic?”

  “I was thinking ‘off her rocker,’ but yes, she’s pretty charismatic, too.”

  “What’s the plan? Are we riding or are you chicken?”

  “I’m not chicken. We’re riding.” Declaring it evoked that same giddiness that was usually reserved for pulling on inappropriately themed underwear or watching Haylie stand up to their dad. It was the same thrill Carina had gotten when striking the temporary marriage bargain with Decker.

  “Good answer.”

  Draped over Snowflake’s saddle was a long coat. Decker picked it up and held it open for her. She slipped her arms into it.

  “You didn’t take my suit jacket this morning, and I didn’t want my plan ruined because you didn’t have time to stop at home today for a coat. Mine is way too big on you, but …”

  His voice faded off as his gaze raked over her body as he buttoned the coat. If she had to guess, she’d say he was ruffled by the sight of her in his coat and hat.

  “Damn,” he breathed. He bunched the front of the coat in his fist and pulled her into another kiss, this one urgent and filled with wicked hunger.

  The hat toppled from her head, but that hardly mattered, because she was in Decker’s arms again. She pushed to her tiptoes and lassoed her arms around his neck, opening her mouth, giving herself over to the bliss of it. His mouth was masterful, demanding, taking her right back to all the many things he’d done to her with that mouth, that tongue, the night before.

  He released the coat collar and stepped away, scooping up his hat and setting it on his head. “That’s enough of that,” he said with a gruff lack of composure she was starting to identify as a sign of his arousal. “It’s time for us to hit the trail.”

  Chapter Five

  Decker loved the grounds after dark, especially in winter when it seemed that every building, tree, and shrub on the property was trimmed with white lights. Over the breeze and all around him in the cold night air, he could almost hear the echo of the carolers the resort kept on retainer for the season and could smell the scent of pine trees wafting from the winter wonderland garden.

  The clouds hadn’t seen fit to release any snow yet, not that it usually stuck to the ground long, but it’d been a particularly cold winter with a higher than average snowfall, so he had high hopes for a rare white Christmas. The thought that he’d be spending it with Carina this year filled him with an even higher than usual level of holiday spirit.

  Coming to work at the resort as an angry twenty-one-year-old had restored his love of the holiday season. After his dad had died a few days before Decker’s seventeenth birthday during one of the hottest and driest Decembers on record—the December that destroyed his family’s ranch—he’d thought he’d never see the joy in Christmas again. He’d thrown himself into adulthood believing in nothing except that life was unfair, so why should he bother caring about anything?

  For all the Briscoe family’s faults and quirks, they’d given him chance after chance to turn his life around. And as his eyes opened to the possibilities of his future, they also opened to the beauty around him, including Christmas. Nobody did Christmas with as much flair as Briscoe Ranch Resort.

  He’d chosen Snowflake for Carina because he was one of the gentlest and most dependable horses of the resort. Because Decker worked at the stable, he’d already known when he’d asked her that Carina hadn’t ridden in way too long—at least, not on Briscoe property, which she never seemed to leave.

  He hadn’t meant to get her defenses up with the question about when the last time she’d ridden was. All he’d been trying to accomplish in his own lunkheaded, guy way was letting her know that he’d been paying attention to what she liked and what her habits were.
He knew she liked to ride because she used to do it all the time back before Ty Briscoe made that speech a few years ago at the employee appreciation luncheon that she was the future of the company and the keeper of the family legacy, then promoted her to the special events manager position right there in front of God and everyone. Seeing as how Briscoe Ranch Resort was one big ol’ perpetual special events destination, that was a high honor and high responsibility promotion.

  Being on a horse seemed to be coming back to her in starts and fits, and by the time she and Decker had passed the base of the hill leading up to the chapel—the site of their so-called wedding the night before—she seemed almost comfortable in the saddle. Even so, she didn’t seem capable of both riding and carrying on a conversation at the same time. Decker enjoyed a nice stretch of comfortable silence as much as the next guy, but he could barely stem his impatience to learn more about Carina.

  The compound was separated from the rest of the resort by three acres of rolling hills, perched on the edge of a cliff with a sweeping view of hill country. The place was so secluded that most everyone at the resort didn’t have a clue the compound existed unless they took to exploring the property on foot or during one of the daily horseback-riding tours Decker and his stable employees offered. When Decker thought of the term compound, he envisioned high concrete walls, armed guards, and barbed wire, but the place that Ty and the rest of the Briscoe clan called their family compound boasted only a decorative black wrought-iron fence around the perimeter.

  The sprawling main house was a two-level U-shaped monstrosity. Considering that the only people in residence were Ty and Eloise, Haylie, Carina, and Granny June, it must seem absolutely cavernous. Besides the main house, the compound boasted a pool and a double-deep six-car garage with what Decker assumed was office space on the second level.

  When they reached the gate, Carina walked Snowflake up to the key pad.

  “You gonna be able to reach that?” Decker asked.

  “Not sure yet.” She tugged on the left rein, trying unsuccessfully to convince Snowflake to turn sideways so she could reach the keys. Her fingertips were within inches of reaching, her arm and fingers stretched to their limit, when Snowflake sidestepped away.

  Decker bit back a smile. “I think Snowflake has a mischievous side I never knew about. Let me help you off of him so you can get the code punched in.”

  After dismounting, Decker helped her to do the same, taking extra care to cop a feel of her ass on the way down. He figured that with everything they did last night and the ring she wore, he was entitled to some liberties.

  She gave Snowflake’s side a rub. “I’m finally getting the hang of riding again, I think.” Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright.

  “Any time you would’ve wanted to ride, I would’ve taken care of everything—saddling, the cooldown. Whatever you needed. All you had to do was let me know.”

  If possible, her cheeks pinked even more. “It wasn’t that simple.”

  “Even so, the offer stands. Anytime you want to ride, say the word.”

  With nervous, narrowed eyes that he was learning meant she had something to say but was holding herself back, she turned her nose into his coat, brushing her cheek and lips on it. He loved how she looked wearing it, all soft and feminine and small. He sure hoped it smelled of her when she gave it back. The mere thought of it got his blood pumping.

  “Tell me what you’re afraid to say. I can see it in your eyes that you’re holding back.”

  Her eyes went distant as though she was considering; then the words started flowing, seeming to burst out of her. “You always intimidated me. That was one reason I stopped riding. The thought of being in the stable, asking you for help …”

  “Me? Why?”

  Her expression turned sweetly exasperated. “Because you’re you and I’m me and …”

  “And what?”

  “And you are way out of my league.”

  That was bullshit. He rubbed her arms. “Remind me again, whose family compound are we standing in front of?”

  She smiled, catching his drift. “My family’s.”

  “And who owns these thousands of acres and pays my salary?”

  “My family.”

  “Which one of us is the heiress to a fortune?”

  She raised some fingers, timidly. An apologetic smile had turned up the corners of her lips.

  “That’s what I thought. You should be the one feeling sorry for me, what with you being out of my league and all. I’m just a lowly stableboy.”

  She laughed, and it was the sweetest sound. “Come on. Let’s get my stuff. I’m anxious to get back on Snowflake.”

  “He’s a lucky guy.”

  She punched in the key code while Decker tethered the horses to the fence; then he followed her through the gate and across the wide driveway toward the staircase that led to the rooms above the garage.

  “I thought these were offices.”

  “No. It used to be my grandfather’s retreat. Like a man cave. It sat empty for years, and when I was eighteen I drew up a proposal for my parents. Either I moved onto the university’s campus or they let me refurbish this place into an apartment.”

  “Savvy move for a teenager.”

  The observation earned him a shrug. “There aren’t many ways to get a little privacy around here, being that my family and I live and work in such close proximity. I keep meaning to build my own place on the southwest section of the property, but—”

  “Let me guess, you haven’t had time.”

  “Bingo.”

  She unlocked a dead bolt. It struck him as odd that she’d lock it at all, given the gate around the compound and the fact that nobody in their right mind would mess with the Briscoes. He’d heard about the size of Ty’s shotgun collection from Wendell.

  The apartment was a mess, with every surface covered with something. Piles of paperwork, reams of fabric. That surprised him. At the resort, she was the most organized, efficient worker he’d ever met. On top of that, there was not a single holiday decoration in the apartment, which was another surprise considering the passion and energy she poured into the resort’s lavish Christmas décor.

  In the living room where a coffee table should be stood a headless mannequin wearing a half-sewn wedding dress. “There something you need to tell me? You weren’t engaged to another man before you married me, were you?”

  He’d meant it as a joke, but it didn’t feel funny at all. The idea of her being with another man, of her wearing this dress for someone else, got Decker’s back up like nothing he’d ever experienced. He snorted an exhalation, reining it in and giving her a chance to explain herself without him turning into a pale imitation of her rant-prone father.

  She fingered a sleeve, proud. “You like it?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She pressed her lips together, her eyes glowing with amusement, which told him he’d done a terrible job masking his displeasure.

  “This is my hobby. More than a hobby, really. Designing and sewing one-of-a-kind wedding dresses is my passion. Always has been.”

  “That’s not for you?”

  She grinned. “No. I sell them through a friend’s bridal boutique in Los Angeles.”

  “When? How? You said yourself you work six or seven days a week. Obviously, given the way you repurposed my tux this morning, you can sew, but this is more than sewing. This”—he waved his hand at the dress—“is incredible.”

  It truly was. He knew even less about wedding dresses than he did about best man duties or dancing, but even his untrained eye could see it was a masterpiece of design and execution, with long sleeves, intricate beadwork across the bustline and waist, and material draped and gathered in all sorts of artistic ways that he bet accentuated a woman’s curves just right.

  “This is what I do every free moment I have. It’s the biggest reason why it’s been years since I’ve ridden a horse. This is who I am.”

  His gaze darte
d from the dress to her beaming smile. The real Carina, who she really was below the surface of her overworked, underappreciated family whipping girl facade. He’d been anticipating getting a glimpse of that by accompanying her to her house, but he’d never expected this. The confidence and passion she exuded when talking about her dressmaking far surpassed the hard-boiled pride with which she’d described the winter forest reception she’d created for Haylie’s wedding.

  “Was Haylie wearing one of your dresses?”

  At her head shake, he scoffed. “Are you kidding me? What, is this a secret from your family or something?”

  “Oh my gosh, no. That’s not my style. I offered to design her a dress, but she had other ideas. It’s just as well, because she didn’t end up getting married anyway. For all we know, the dress she was wearing is in a Dumpster somewhere.”

  “Then it’s a good thing it wasn’t a dress you made, because that would have been a tragedy, and I’m not being sarcastic. You have real talent, which begs another question. Why are you working here instead of making dresses full-time?”

  He regretted the words instantly, because her face fell. She busied her hands worrying one of the buttons on the dress’s sleeve.

  “The resort is my family’s business. Someday, I’ll be the third-generation Briscoe to run it.”

  The way she’d regurgitated those lines from the speech he’d heard her father give more than three years earlier said a lot about how often Ty must have nailed home that point to Carina. It pissed Decker off that Ty had pressured her like that until she didn’t feel like she had options. Sound like anyone else you know, Decker?

  He shook away the errant thought. “Remember your promise to me. Tell me the truth.”

  She dropped the sleeve and crossed her arms over her chest. “I promised to tell you what I want, not why I make the choices I do.”

  “Okay, then tell me what you want. Do you want to run Briscoe Ranch Resort someday? Can you look me in the eye and tell me that’s your dream job?”