An Old-Fashioned Romance Read online

  Getting to sleep soon was not an option, and Breck knew it. Perhaps a piece of pumpkin pie would do the trick. Yes—carbohydrates always helped relax her.

  Quietly, she stepped into the hallway, peering right, then left to make sure no one else was about. On her way to the kitchen, however, she smiled as she saw the dying embers in the fireplace burning orange and inviting. Maybe a few minutes in front of the fire would find her eyes heavy.

  Breck sat down on the sofa in front of the fire. She could still feel its warmth—even for its ending. She smiled, imagining what the next day would bring. Marjie had explained that it was “Christmas tree hunting day!” The family always went out for a bit of snow play and to get a Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving.

  “Who wants to go shopping and mess with the crowds?” Marjie had said. “The day after Thanksgiving…we do our tree.”

  Breck was excited about the prospect. For one thing, she was certain it was quite the event to behold.

  “Sneaking out of bed, eh?” Reese whispered.

  Breck startled and put her hand to her chest to still the wild thumping of her heart at the sound of Reese’s voice.

  “You scared me nearly to death!” she told him in a whisper. Quickly she made sure her pajama top was buttoned all the way up. The top buttonhole was stretched, and it sometimes came unfastened. Breck was suddenly very self-conscious about her all too casual attire. But her state of dress in which she appeared was soon driven from her mind when she noted that Reese again wore nothing but pajama bottoms.

  Plopping down beside her on the sofa, Reese stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed his ankles, and began eating handfuls of bacon from the bag of bacon bits he’d obviously snitched from the kitchen.

  Breck felt her eyebrows raise, accompanying her amused smile as she watched him eat his bacon bits.

  Reese smiled and winked at her, holding the bag out toward her and asking, “Bacon?”

  Breck paused for a moment and then nodded, holding out her hand. He poured a nice fistful into her hand.

  “Don’t worry. Eat as much as you want,” he told her. “There’s tons more out in the freezer. And they’re real bacon. Not that imitation junk.”

  Breck smiled, amused at his addiction to breakfast meat.

  “I’m glad Mom invited you and made me come home…and thanks for coming,” he said.

  “Me too,” Breck admitted in a whisper. “Thanks for bringing me,” she told him, glancing down at her lap.

  “Thanks for bringing me,” he told her. “It was time I came home.”

  Breck smiled at him. He belonged here. She felt it.

  “So, tell me about this book,” he said, dumping some bacon directly from the bag into his mouth.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. His nearness was unsettling. Breck felt an uncomfortable warmth begin in her stomach and fan out through her body. “What book?”

  “This book that has this highwayman guy in it that you like so much.” He grinned at her. “I mean, you must really like it for your friends to go to all that trouble in finding a guy to dress up like this highwayman for your birthday and all.”

  Not this again. She’d never hear the end of it—from Reese or her friends. Breck blushed, and the warmth spreading through her body worried her. What if she actually began to perspire from it? She looked at him for a moment—tried not to notice the perfectly sculpted muscles of his chest and stomach—tried not to think about how even more handsome he was with his hair tousled, wearing flannel pajama bottoms covered in cartoon characters.

  He tipped his head back, shaking the last few bacon bits out of the bag and into his mouth before smiling at her and saying, “Come on. Tell me about the book.”

  Breck knew she was cornered. There would be no changing the subject. But after Lizzy’s questions about babies—could anything be worse?

  “There’s really nothing much to tell,” she lied. “It’s just a silly book that I’ve always liked.”

  “Well,” he urged, “tell me about it. What’s the title?”

  She felt so overheated! However, she sighed heavily and figured there was no escape. After all, he deserved to know about it since he did go to all that trouble on her birthday. Besides, hadn’t he told her one of his deepest secrets on the drive down?

  “Well…it’s pretty cliché really,” she began. “It’s called The Highwayman of Tanglewood.” He nodded, set the empty bacon bits bag on the floor by the sofa, and looked at her expectantly, indicating that she should continue.

  Taking hold of the hem of her pajama top and twisting it nervously, she continued, “It’s about this guy who does the Robin Hood thing, sort of. You know, he dresses up like a highwayman and robs rich, criminal-type aristocrats and gives the money to the poor. And when he’s dressed up like the Highwayman, he keeps running into this one girl…who of course is enamored of him.”

  “Enamored?” Reese interrupted, smiling.

  Breck tensed as Reese scooted closer to her on the sofa. “You know…she was bewitched, captivated…enchanted by him,” she explained, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek.

  He smiled at her. “I know what it means. I just thought it was cute…the way you used the word.”

  Breck felt more heat rise to her cheeks as Reese rested his arm on the sofa behind her shoulders. He was flirting with her! Surely she was imagining it—the mischievous twinkle in his eye, the way he grinned almost seductively at her. The day had been too busy—filled with too many other people for her to have a chance to get nervous in his presence most of the time. But now—now that they were alone in the dead of night…

  As her heart began to hammer hard within her chest with the thrill of his nearness, Breck prattled on, “Anyway…the girl always finds herself in his path. And of course he’s quite the rogue…flirting with her, always saving her from peril…”

  “He’s a rogue?” he said, smiling. “Well…he would be, wouldn’t he? Being a highwayman and all.”

  Breck’s entire body broke into goose bumps as she felt Reese’s hand leave the sofa back, slip beneath her hair at the back of her neck, and come to rest there. She looked at him quickly, denying the urge to throw herself against him and kiss him straight on the mouth.

  “Anyway,” she continued nervously, “it turns out she knows him when he’s not dressed as the Highwayman too, of course. They’re acquainted in real life as well, you see…”

  “Kind of like the whole secret identity thing, right?” he asked, lowering his voice and weaving a strand of her hair through his fingers.

  “Yeah,” Breck choked out. She looked away from him and tried to focus on the light of the dying embers in the fireplace—tried to ignore the way his fingers kept caressing her neck as he toyed with her hair. “You see, she’s a maid in the house that he…” But she stopped abruptly as she realized how desperately she did not want to reveal the heroine in the story actually worked as maid in the Highwayman’s own house.

  But it was too late. She heard Reese chuckle, and then he said, “Ohhh. I get it. He was her boss.”

  Breck couldn’t help but smile and glanced down to where her hands were more violently twisting the bottom of her top. “Yeah,” she admitted.

  “I’m your boss,” he needlessly reminded her.

  “You are,” was all she could force from her throat.

  He chuckled again and said, “You’ve got some impish friends, Miss Breck.”

  “Believe me, I know it,” she admitted, still afraid to look at him—still afraid that he could hear the mad hammering of her heart—sense her unbearable attraction to him.

  “Does it all work out in the end?” he asked, lowering his voice as he moved even closer to her. She was tucked securely under his arm now and had to remind herself to breathe.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Does he seduce her into—” he whispered.

  “No, no, no,” Breck interrupted. “He’s a gentleman. He…”

  “But h
e does kiss her a lot, right?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” Breck managed.

  He leaned toward her, his lips hovering just a breath away from the flesh of her neck just below her left ear, and whispered, “I’ve always wanted to kiss you, you know.”

  “Y-you have kissed me,” she reminded him without turning toward him. She was going to fly apart! Explode into a million tiny particles! She could feel his breath on her neck—sense his lips just above her skin.

  “That doesn’t count,” he whispered. “The first time you thought I was Marty Sprague,” he reminded her. “The second time was after dinner with my mother. Neither one counts.”

  “What?” she asked. He just chuckled. “And anyway, I knew who you were that night at Marcelli’s,” she countered, trying to steady her emotions. “You’d already taken your mask off.”

  Her heart pounded so fiercely in her chest that she wondered if it might just burst through! She hoped he couldn’t tell that she was having trouble regulating her breathing.

  She heard him chuckle again. “Why are you so nervous?” he asked.

  “I’m…I’m not nervous,” she lied, twisting her pajama top even more violently.

  He took her chin in one hand and turned her face to his. Instantly, her gaze fell to his delicious, grinning mouth. She felt warm moisture flood her own as she thought of his lips on hers.

  “You’re a liar,” he told her. “You’re ready to jump up and run.”

  “It’s just that…” she stammered. “I’ve never…had anyone just tell me…just talk to me about it…”

  “Well, if it’s making you nervous to talk about it,” he whispered as he lowered his head toward hers, “then I won’t.”

  Breck gasped a moment before Reese kissed the corner of her mouth softly. Slowly, lingeringly, he kissed her upper lip, then her lower lip. Breck tried to draw in a quick breath, knowing she would black out if she couldn’t find a way to start breathing again. But nature has a way of keeping a person alive, even during the most intense moments of their lives, and when Reese kissed her lower lip again, taking her face in his hands a moment before his mouth took hers fully, Breck found her body relaxed enough to breath—at least for a moment. His kisses didn’t remain soft for long. In the next moment, she felt passion rise in him, his mouth working a spell of bewitching ecstasy with hers as hot, deep kisses erupted between them.

  Reese Thatcher had had a lifetime of practice at impassioned kissing! It was the only explanation Breck’s fevered mind could conjure for such a skill possessed by a man in kissing. The way his lips, his mouth worked to draw passion from hers while simultaneously taking her breath away over and over—it just wasn’t normal!

  Another moment and Breck knew she would be lost, unable to stop kissing him. So rather abruptly she pulled away from him, placing her hand over her mouth to keep herself from going back as she tried to catch her breath.

  Breck had been kissed before, but none of the other kisses had undone her so completely. None had threatened to break her heart so thoroughly as Reese’s did. And she knew why—because she loved him. And yet the world was the way it was, and most men and women didn’t save the ultimate intimacy for marriage. But Breck was saving it, and it was impossible to imagine a man like Reese Thatcher—gorgeous, fun, strong, seductive—would not be expecting more than kisses from such a situation. All at once, she wondered if he’d agreed to bring her home simply because he thought he might benefit from the deal. But surely—surely he was a better man than most.

  Breck had never feared such a situation with Reese because she’d never entertained the thought that it could actually happen. But it was happening! And he was a gorgeous, no doubt passionate man. Her stomach churned at the thought of the other women he’d probably known in his life.

  Breck felt tears welling in her eyes as Reese asked, “What’s the matter?” He placed a hand to her cheek and caressed her lips with his thumb. “Am I that bad?”

  Breck looked at him to find him grinning at her—an expression of understanding on his face. But understanding from a man in this day and age would be too much to expect. Especially a man like Reese, who could, no doubt, have his way with any woman he chose.

  Still holding back tears and trying to stall the ache that had begun to throb in her heart, Breck shook her head, smiled, and whispered, “I think you know you’re not bad.”

  “Then what’s the matter, Miss Breck? Can you think of a better way to spend your Thanksgiving vacation than making out with your boss?” he whispered, kissing her cheek tenderly.

  Breck breathed a giggle. He was so charming—so refreshingly blunt. “No. I mean…” she stammered, embarrassed.

  “Then what?” he asked. “I know you don’t have a boyfriend. I asked your skinny blonde friend.”

  Breck looked to him, rather astonished. “What?”

  He smiled at her, brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, and said, “Just tell me what’s wrong. You’re holding back from me. I can tell.” He ran his index finger the length of her nose and said, “I want to kiss you, Breck. And I’m pretty sure that you want to kiss me back. So what’s stopping you?”

  Breck swallowed hard—held onto her tears. In truth, she wondered for a moment if her conviction would stand where Reese was concerned. Was she too in love with him to resist if he decided to try and lead her down the hallway to his bedroom? And yet she knew she was strong enough—strong enough to break her own heart and push him away with the truth.

  “It’s just that…will you still want to kiss me after I tell you that I don’t…” she stammered. Reese would turn away too. Just like every other man she’d dated. And Reese was different; her feelings for him were different. It would break her heart to lose a chance to win him for her own.

  “After you tell me that you don’t what?” he prodded, softly. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing it firmly. When she still paused, he said, “Just tell me, Breck.”

  Breck looked down at her mangled pajama top hem and, taking a deep breath, said, “After I tell you that I don’t…that I’m an old-fashioned girl. That I don’t…” she stammered in a whisper.

  She heard Reese sigh and looked up to see him smiling at her. Again he caressed her tender lips with one thumb as he held her face in his hand.

  “Oh, I see,” he said. She looked away shyly as he continued, “When you tell me that you’re an old‑fashioned girl…and kissing is as far as you go, right?”

  Breck closed her eyes and nodded. Two tears escaped and traveled slowly down her cheeks. But she gasped when next Reese pulled her into his arms—kissing her neck several times in succession, sending goose bumps erupting over Breck’s arms and legs. It was only natural that she return his embrace, and the warmth of his skin felt fabulous beneath her palms.

  “Well, guess what, Miss Breck?” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. Then he released her from his embrace, took her face between his powerful hands, and, as she looked up at him through tear‑filled eyes, said, “There are still a few old-fashioned boys around.”

  “What?” she breathed. He couldn’t be serious! Surely he was teasing her. Still, hope rose in her bosom like a phoenix from the ashes as she searched his eyes for any sign of deceit. She found none.

  “Just kiss me, Breck,” he whispered. “You can trust me.” And she believed him. She could see the sincerity in his eyes.

  “Okay,” she whispered as his head descended toward hers. She felt fear and heartache evaporate from her soul—thrilled at the knowledge his kiss would be hers again. Softly he kissed her upper lip—teasingly kissed her lower lip twice in succession. He nearly took her mouth with his, pausing only a breath before their lips would’ve met.

  “However,” he began in a low, alluring, entirely seductive tone, “that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t want to or be very tempted to…to help you have a litter of kittens for Lizzy if the opportunity presented itself,” he said. “It just means…that I wouldn’t.”
r />   She smiled and melted into his arms as his mouth captured hers in a kiss borne of dreaming.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Everyone at the Thatcher farm awoke, rose, and dressed early the next morning. Breck had enjoyed heavenly dreams—thanks to Reese’s delicious affections the night before. She enjoyed helping Marjie whip up a quick breakfast of pancakes (and, of course, bacon) before Katie, Keith, and the girls arrived. As soon as they did, everyone in the family piled into various beat-up pickup trucks and were off on the “adventure of the year,” as Marjie had called it.

  Every year on the day after Thanksgiving, the Thatcher family (now accompanied by the Donaldson family) spent all morning playing in the snow: sledding, inner tubing, snowmobiling—the works. Then, by about noon, they’d take a break, warm up with some hot cocoa and muffins, and set out to find the Thatcher family Christmas tree. Since Katie had married Keith, there was twice the fun, for there were two trees to hunt down.

  Mrs. Thatcher had packed extra snow boots, coats, hats, and mittens, and now Breck found herself sitting next to Reese in his pickup, his brother Nick beside her, on her way to her first snow play day in years.

  “Wooo whooo!” Nick shouted, a huge smile lighting up his face. “I love the snow!”

  Reese chuckled. “We’re heading up to Doe Ridge, Breck,” he explained. “Great hills for sleds and tubes!”

  Breck nodded, rather nervous. It was so strange, all of it—sitting next to Reese in the pickup, his acting like nothing out of the ordinary had passed between them the night before. She still had goose bumps cropping up now and again just at the memory! But he seemed as relaxed as ever he had been since they’d arrived, and so she tried to act as normal as she could.

  “Did Reese ever tell you about the time he ran his ride into a barbed-wire fence, Breck?” Nick asked.

  “He told me that it happened but didn’t offer any details,” Breck answered.