Page 49 of Naughty Festivities

He wasn’t sure.

Did Amelia not see him as a worthy partner in life? He tried to ignore his pride, his ego, but it wasn’t pleasant.

Still, he wasn’t that easy to scare off.

Not when it came to a woman of her worth.

He liked her. He liked the way she fit under his arm when they walked. He liked how she pressed her fingers into his arm as a way of communicating and smiled up at him when they were out.

He liked the way she arched her mouth and formed an oval as she came.

He liked her quick, smart mind and annoyingly clever sense of humor.

He liked that she didn’t need him, but still, he had this crazy urge to protect her and... fuck.

Make her his.

Jack had been married before, but it hadn’t felt like this. His first wife had been his college sweetheart. It had been assumed that after they’d been together a number of years, he and Becky would marry. Especially as he was planning to run for senator.

He hadn’t disagreed, so he’d proposed, and everyone had been excited and happy.

Not for long.

With Amelia, Jack felt this urgency only addicts could understand. He needed more. The idea of not seeing her every day made him a little angsty.

Yeah, he was definitely addicted.

Finding out she didn’t feel the same...yeah, he was calling bullshit on that. Like everyone, Jack figured she’d had her heart broken, but Jack wanted to prove her theories wrong.

Wait. What was he doing?

Did he honestly think Amelia was the woman for him? Was he ready to get married again? Have a wife? A family?

Shit.

Cindy and all the issues surrounding her came flooding back like a nasty rash. The last thing he wanted was for Amelia to know about this. Jack wasn’t sure where things were headed between them, but if he had his way, they would keep seeing each other. Amelia already felt like she was an important part of his future.

Their future.

God, please let this baby not be mine.

He had to ring that security company and get a defense in order if it got out of hand. Darren had been right.

Jack sat on the sofa as Amelia mixed them a drink. A surprise, she said. The electric fire had warmed the room up nicely, so he removed his sweater and kicked off his shoes, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

“Here we go,” Amelia said, handing him a hot mug.

“Eggnog?” he laughed.

“Try it before you judge.” She pouted.

Jack took a sip, enjoying the festive flavors, and then it hit him. “Holy hell, this is more whisky-nog than eggnog.”

“Macallan, of course,” she grinned, sinking into the cushions.

God, she looked adorable in her jeans and woolen sweater, those bare feet and painted red toes. Jack tugged her feet up onto his lap and glanced around. “This is a beautiful home. Large for one person. Are you planning to have a family at some point?”

When she didn’t answer, he glanced down at her.

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