Page 2 of Santa's Angel

Carla

Grady’s gaze burns my skin from across the room, and I swear my heart is about to leap out of my chest. Why does he have to look at me like that? Like I’m the only person in this crowded hall who matters.

If I had half a brain, I would drain my champagne flute, say cordial goodbyes, and walk out the door. But my feet refuse to move. Instead, I stay right where I am, sipping champagne that does nothing to soothe the storm swirling inside me.

A part of me screamsThis is a bad idea, Carla. He’s the one who broke your heart.But another part of me, who remembers how his touch once set my skin on fire, wonders if I could give in just one night.

When Jim Sullivan finishes his toast, the room erupts in applause. I’m surrounded by laughter, couples leaning into each other, whispering sweet nothings. It’s all so joyous and romantic. And then there’s me—standing alone, torn between the past and a possibility that might only lead to more heartache.

I see Grady moving through the crowd, making his way toward another sprig of mistletoe. Time slows down, the noise around me fading into a dull hum. He reaches the archway, pausing under the mistletoe that hangs invitingly above his head. He stares right at me with a challenge gleaming in his eyes.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I take a step forward. Then another. He’s a magnet pulling me in, and I can’t resist the pull. I’m on autopilot, every logical thought drowned out by my pulse pounding.

Before I know it, I’m standing right in front of him. The crowd swirls around us, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air between us. Grady’s eyes sweep over me, lingering on my lips, and suddenly, the room feels a hundred degrees hotter.

“You came,” his voice is low and rough. There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes like he wasn’t sure I’d take his challenge.

I lift my chin, refusing to let him see how much he’s affecting me. “I never back down from a challenge. Besides, it’s Christmas, after all. And kissing under the mistletoe is a tradition.”

Grady takes a step closer, his broad chest inches from mine. The scent of cedarwood and something uniquelyGradywraps around me, making it hard to think straight. “I’ve been thinking about you for years, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine. “Always wondering if I’d ever get another chance.”

My breath catches in my throat. “You had your chance, Grady,” I struggle to keep my voice steady. “You’re the one who walked away.”

His jaw tightens, a flicker of something dark crossing his features. “I know,” he admits, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And I’ve regretted it every damn day since.”

For a second, his words hit me like a punch to the gut. But I can’t let myself fall for this. I’ve spent too many nights wondering what might have been if things had gone differently.

“Regret doesn’t change the past.” I shake my head. “Nor does it change your choices.”

“No,” he reaches up to brush a stray curl from my cheek. His touch is feather-light, making my stomach dip. “But maybe we can change things tonight.”

I swallow hard, trying to ignore how my body reacts to him. “You think one kiss under the mistletoe will make everything better?”

Grady’s lips curve into the devastating smile he once used to melt my resolve. “No, but it’s a start.”

I open my mouth to argue, but before I can get a word out, his hands cup my face, and he bends down. All I can see, all I can feel, is him.

His lips brush mine, slow and skittish at first, as if he’s afraid I’ll pull away. But I don’t. I can’t. The moment his mouth captures mine, everything I thought I’d buried comes rushing back in a tidal wave.

Heat floods through me. I reach up, tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepens, and it’s like our years apart never happened. He tastes like champagne and something dark and intoxicating. I lose myself in it, in him.

When we finally break apart, I’m breathless, my heart racing so fast I’m surprised it hasn’t burst. Grady’s eyes are dark, filled with a hunger that sends a thrill racing through me.

“That’s what I’ve been missing,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my tingling bottom lip.

I should say something—anything to break the spell he’s cast over me. But I can only think about how good it felt to kiss him again. How much I want more.

“Come with me,” he pleads. “Let’s get out of here.”

I hesitate, torn between the desire coursing through me and the warning bells ringing in my head. But when Grady takes my hand, lacing his fingers with mine, all my doubts dissolve.

Without a word, I let him lead me through the crowded hall, out into the cold, starlit night.

This might be the worst decision of my life. But as he pulls me close and presses another scorching kiss to my lips, I decide that tonight, I don’t care.

Chapter Three

Carla

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