Holiday for HIre(16)

Ian shook his head. “We’re not done .”

She cocked her head and looked at him with a questioning frown. “What am I forgetting? Except for some last-minute baking, there’s nothing else I can think of.” She ran quickly through the list in her head. “The house looks splendid. The tree is trimmed. The caterers will be here in the morning. You have your suit. I picked up my dress from the tailor yesterday. What’s left ?”

“What’s left ?” he echoed with incredulity. “Why only the most important part. The Christmas angel .”

“Ah. But I have a star on top of my tree instead.” And he should have known that because he’d been the one to place it there in the first place .

“I’m not talking about the tree. I’m talking about in the snow .”

“A snow angel?” She stifled a laugh. “You can’t be serious .”

“Dead serious.” His expression mirrored his words. “You mean you don’t make snow angels ?”

“Uh, no. I do not.” She hadn’t made a figure in the snow since she was a kid, and she wasn’t quite sure she’d made them then either. Except for that fall she took three years ago on New Year’s Day, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d even had more than a passing encounter with the white stuff .

Ian rolled his head in exaggerated disbelief. “No wonder you don’t believe in Christmas wishes. How can you expect to have magic happen if you don’t put in a little work ?”

Jane hugged herself and scowled. “I fail to see how laying down on the cold dirty ground can get me anything but a frozen behind .”

“Laying down in —?” Ian cut off, apparently too exasperated to repeat Jane’s sentiments. “There is no way I’m hearing this. Obviously, you don’t understand the most fundamental part of the season .”

“Getting wet ?”

“Having fun .”

He stunned her with his quick answer. Stunned her even more when he dropped onto the small patch of land next to her sidewalk, stretched his arms out, and waved them up and down in the snow .

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” She glanced around to see if anyone was looking, smiling awkwardly when she spotted Mr. Jacobson staring as he passed in front of her house with his dog .

“Why? Because it’s spontaneous? Because it’s unexpected? Because it’s totally a blast?” Ian had let his accent slip back into its natural Southie dialect, which somehow made his playfulness seem more gregarious .

“Because it’s totally insane!” And childish. And something she’d never do in a million years. Neither would any man she’d ever date for real .

But that thought made her feel sad .

She didn’t want to feel sad .

She studied him, this grown man rolling around in the snow, and found her lips curling up in a smile. She’d never admit it, but there was something fun about Ian making a fool of himself .

After a moment, she realized something. “You know; you’re doing it wrong .”

“No, I’m not,” Ian scoffed. “What do you even mean? You can’t do angels wrong .”

She rolled her eyes. “Moving your arms only makes the wings. You need to move your legs to make the gown .”

“Oh, really? Get down here and show me, if you’re such an expert.” He sat up and stretched his hand out toward her, inviting her to join him .

“No way.” Still, she didn’t move away .

“Chicken,” he teased. He moved to his knees so he could grab her wrist and the touch of his bare hand on the patch of skin above her glove sent goosebumps up her arm. Goosebumps that she was entirely sure weren’t caused by the cold .

“Come on,” he coaxed again, tugging her gently. “You know you want to .”

“I most certainly don’t want to.” But she didn’t fight him when he pulled again, and so she shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was when she tumbled forward. With him. Into the snow .

“Ian!” she squealed. She hadn’t worn a hat and now she had snow in her hair and on her cheek and down the entire left side of her body. She opened her mouth to berate him for his behavior. But all that came out was laughter. Belly-aching laughter .

All-over-body-shaking laughter .

“See? It’s fun!” If he said more, she couldn’t make it out in the midst of his own laughter .

And, honestly, she didn’t really care what else he said, because, as her peals subsided, she became aware that she wasn’t just in the snow, but in his arms. His strong arms. And her body was no longer trembling from laughter but from the intensity of his gaze pinned on her .

And she wished with all her might that he would kiss her. Not a practicing-for-the-date ask-permission kind of kiss, but a real, honest-to-God, I’m-into-you kiss .

Then Jane remembered that she believed that people had to make their own wishes come true. So she tilted up her chin and pressed her lips to his .

And just like last time, she forgot herself entirely .

Ian’s lips molded to hers like icing on a gingerbread house. When his tongue slid against hers, it was all she could do not to gasp at the sweet dance they’d begun. He nipped her lower lip with his teeth and she rolled him over on top of her, wanting more, wanting his weight and warmth on her .