His Forever Books 1 - 21

CHRISTMAS SURPRISE, HIS FOREVER SERIES PREQUEL Nicole I wake up groggy, my mouth so dry I can't even move my tongue. At first, I have no idea where I am. The soft white blanket and cushy pillows are very different from the ones where I usually wake up. Then my eyes find the large window, the frost on all four sides framing the tall, snow covered pines in the distance. Home. It's been awhile, since I woke up in my childhood bedroom in Portland. My flight from New York got in late last night and my whole body is protesting, saying I should still be sleeping, but Christmas is tomorrow, and I haven't gotten any presents for my family yet. I throw back the covers and start shivering immediately. But it's nothing a hot shower won't fix and that's exactly where I head. Thirty minutes later I'm downstairs in the kitchen, trying to decide which heaping plate of my mom's Christmas goodies I should sample first. She'd shoo me away if she were here, but she's not, and I’m taking advantage of that. My father clearing his throat behind me clashes with my content sigh as I bite into a fudgy, perfect brownie. "Hi, Dad." I brush the crumbs off my lips and kiss his cheek. He blushes slightly and adjusts his glasses. "Merry Christmas." "Merry Christmas, Nicole," he says hoarsely, ever the stoic, but I know he enjoys these little endearments. He walks over to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee. I go back to raiding the plate of brownies. "I read your last column in the Wall Street Journal. It's very good, but I wouldn't be so quick to jump to some of the conclusions you made," Dad says. I sigh and shake my head. Dad always has good points, and I talk out most of my article ideas with him before I finalize a piece. But I have to make a name for myself too, and these days you can't do that without going way out on a limb from time to time. Which is why I didn't run that last column by him before submitting it. "I'm off over the holidays, Dad," I say and wipe my hands on a rag. "It's been a long year." He smiles at me, running his thumb over the edge of the counter, a physical manifestation of his struggle to let his point go. "Yes, two awards and an honorable mention. And getting promoted to the permanent staff at the Wall Street Journal. That's no mean feat." I'm holding my breath, waiting for the "But…" yet it doesn't come. He squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. "You deserve a rest. Mom and your sister are already in town. She ordered me to have you join them as soon as you were up and about." I can just picture my petite, 5"1' mother staring up at my dad's face, almost a foot above hers, and making this demand. My dad and I share a knowing smile. Mom's always been the undisputed commanding general in this house, and the holidays bring that out in her tenfold. "Can I borrow the jeep?" I ask. He nods. "Sure, I have no plans to go out today. Someone has to hold down the fort, and be on the lookout for random Christmas visits." My mom's orders too, I'm sure. In town, it takes me forever to find a parking spot. Then the colossal, echoing sounds of the last minute shopping crowd at the mall nearly knocks me back out onto the street. I live in New York City, so I'm well used to noise, but after the near perfect silence of the drive over here, it's too much. And there's no way I'll be able to find my mom and Janice in this. My back collides with something firm yet pliant as I take a step back to make room for an exiting family. "I'm sorry, excuse me," I mutter, turning to look into the deepest, most mesmerizing blue eyes I've ever seen. "No worries," he says and lays his arms on mine, moves me out of the way, since I'm just standing there like a petrified woman. The electric jolt his touch gives me would be enough to awaken stone. I meet a lot of men in my job, but none of them has ever taken my breath away like this. A lazy wave of soft brown hair is hanging over is forehead, framing his chiseled face. There's something tantalizingly familiar there, but I can't quite place it. Besides, if I ever met this god of a guy before, he would not be getting away from me. "Running away already?" he asks and grins at me. "The crowd, it's huge," I mutter, feeling very stupid the second it leaves my mouth. I'm not known for stumbling over my words around guys. He chuckles, revealing perfectly straight, gleaming white teeth. "Yes, it is." Somehow, I think he's having the same intense reaction to our meeting as me. And I don't think he's talking just about the crowd. The blanket of desire that covers me as his eyes slide off my face and down my body is heavy, and permeates me right down to the core, actually makes me whimper a little. Guys usually have a predictably s****l reaction to my curvy body, but I've never felt it this strongly before. I swear, if this guy felt me up right now, I'd let him. Get your mind out of the gutter, Nicole. I clear my throat and finally break eye contact, regaining some of the composure that lets me—a curvy woman with lots of s*x appeal—have a successful career in a male dominated profession. He's wearing a three-piece suit that looks like it cost thousands of dollars. His chest is wide, and there’s a hint of bulging muscles under the woolen fabric of his coat. I'd love to slide that coat off and make sure his arms are actually as defined as the outline suggest. Or unbutton his shirt to check if all parts of his six pack are accounted for. There I go again… "Alas, I will have to brave the crowd," I say. "Christmas shopping waits for no one." The grin's gone from his face, replaced by an intense, deep darkness I find even more enticing. "Yeah," he says and takes a step away from me. "It was nice running into you, Nicole." I gasp as he disappears into the crowd filing in and out of the store. How does he know my name? His face is familiar, yet I can't quite place it. "Wait!" I yell, but it's no use. The crowd's already swallowed him up. After some coordinating on the phone, I finally meet up with my mom and sister on the first floor. Mom wraps her arms around me as soon as she spots me, then kisses both my cheeks wetly. "Welcome home, Baby. Merry Christmas." Her flowery perfume transports me back to my childhood, and does a lot to erase the lingering scent of that hot guy's cologne still etched on my brain. Who was he? Why didn't he stay? I get pretty much the same welcome from my sister Janice. Her and my mom look almost exactly alike, both short, both with died blond hair, both full of smiles and wholesomeness. I'm more like Dad, tall, dark haired and reserved. Though I did inherit mom's curves. "How was your flight?" Janice asks. "Fine. Too long, though," I say, grinning widely at the vast number of shopping bags in their hands. "So, what'd you get me?" I try to peer into one of the bags Mom's holding, but she slaps my hand away lightly. "It's a surprise. You'll just have to wait." I make a disappointed sound, which makes them both laugh. "How about we do a little more shopping, and then grab some lunch?" Mom suggests, and we both agree. We spend the next hour or so wandering around, and I see a lot of stuff I would like, but still have no real gift ideas. I'm also pretending I already got them all presents, since my mom wouldn't like it if she knew the truth that I'd been too busy to shop. Janice is trying on a dress, and we're standing by a display of cute Christmas-themed baby clothes by one of the windows, waiting for her to come out and show us how it fits. Mom picks up a tiny sweater with the body, arms and legs of a Santa’s elf embroidered in shinny thread on the front. "This would go great with the elf hat," she says, and picks up that too. I know what she's aiming at. But my last five relationships fizzled before they even got started, and there's nothing new on the horizon. Unless you count that hot guy in the lobby. Which I'm not, since I'm only here for a few days, and I still have no idea who he is. I stare out the window to avoid Mom's searching gaze when I spot him again. He's climbing into a late model, black Porsche Cayenne—the car I've been lusting over for years, but will likely never be able to afford on my journalist salary. I strain my eyes to see if a girlfriend is already inside the car. But he's alone as he drives off, though a guy looking like him is sure to have a girlfriend, or wife waiting for him somewhere, so I'm not getting my hopes up. As though they weren't just dashed by him driving away anyway. I'd hoped to run into him again before I left the mall, but that's clearly not gonna happen now. "So, what do you think, Nicole?" my sister asks pointedly. I clear my throat and turn, nodding and smiling at the shimmery green dress she's wearing. "Love it. You must get it." I'm not just saying it either. It hugs her curves perfectly, and she'll be the centerpiece of any party in it. "You don't think it's too green?" she asks, looking down at it. "Well, it is green," I say and chuckle. "But it looks great on you." She takes my word for it this time, and after another twenty minutes in line so she can pay for it, we're finally sitting down for lunch. After that, I let them go home, saying I still need to get some stuff for the cousins, aunts, uncles, nephews and nieces coming to my mom's Christmas party tomorrow night. She throws one every year, and besides the family, she also invites the whole town. Most of them show up. Mom's eyeing me skeptically as I reveal this plan, like she knows I don't actually have any presents in my suitcase at home, but thankfully she doesn't call me on it. I try my hardest not to rack my brain trying to figure out who that guy was for the rest of the day, and most of the night, but only marginally succeed. Snow's coming down in soft clumps when I wake up the next morning. "Sleep well?" Mom asks as I enter the kitchen. The whole house smells like some five star restaurant kitchen, and both her and Janice are hard at work cooking for tonight's party. "Sure did. I always sleep well at home," I say, and smile at her. "But why didn't you wake me? I'd love to help with the cooking." Janice and Mom share a look that says it all. They'll do all they can to keep me away from the kitchen. And they're right in doing so. I still manage to burn toast on most mornings, and I can count the times I've tried to host a dinner party on two fingers. Ended up ordering takeout both times. "Fine, fine," I relent, saving them the trouble of pointing this out. "But I'll learn to cook one of these days, and then you all better watch out." They both laugh a little too long, and then blush at exactly the same time. "Here," Mom huffs and starts piling some cookies and cakes onto a plate. "You can take this down to the cottage." "Sure thing," I say and pour myself some coffee, snatching a cookie off the plate before she can wrap it. "How is Frank anyway?" She hands me a saran wrap covered plate, her hands shaking so hard I'm afraid she'll drop it. Her and Janice share another look. "What is it?" I ask, taking the plate. "Oh, I didn't mention it?" Mom starts. "Frank, he passed away about two weeks ago." "No. How sad. He wasn't even that old." He was my dad's age, I think, maybe a little older. But he did drink a lot. "It was an accident. He went out and got caught in a blizzard," Mom explains, her hands still shaking. "A real tragedy." I try not to picture it, since I've known Frank practically all my life. He was the groundskeeper on our estate, and the chief handyman in this town. Dad used to jokingly refer to him as the town's janitor.