Last Chance Christmas by Joanne Rock Read Free Book Online Page B

didn’t have to do any of this for me, but I appreciate it.”
    A wary look crossed his face, but she couldn’t imagine why. Maybe he was simply surprised that she would thank him. Back when they’d dated, he’d probably seen her brattier side—a side in constant confrontation with her father who’d had bigger dreams for her than a career in fashion.
    “It’s good to see you.” He paused by the door, one hand on the knob. “Sleep well.”
    He left her then, giving her space to get ready for bed since she’d refused his offer of help. In light of that, it took her a while to figure out why she felt so damned uneasy as she tried to fall asleep. But much later, breathing in the scent of him still contained in his sheets, she had to admit the truth behind the restless feeling in her veins. She’d wanted that kiss he’d teased her about back in the car.
    She’d wanted it a whole lot.
    How was she supposed to make peace with their past when her body wanted to relive it?

Chapter Five
    ‡
    W ith the key to Shea’s house burning a hole in his pocket and his conscience, J.C. didn’t get much sleep. Guilt ate away at him, knowing she would have stayed at her parents’ place if he’d given her a choice. How many times in the past had she accused him of deciding what was best for her without consulting her? By dawn, he’d been out of the house to get his morning workout in, building up the length of his runs and his time in the gym. His instructions from the neurology doc and his trainers were explicit and it wasn’t like this was his first concussion. He knew the drill. Respected his limits.
    Knowing Shea was back at his home and sleeping in his bed had him far more off-balance than any blow to the head.
    He had no baseline for this; he reminded himself as he stepped out of an upstairs shower and searched for clean clothes. He had no sense of the protocol for dealing with a woman from his past, who still got under his skin like no one else ever had. He’d loved his wife, no question. But the spark between him and Shea was different. And unlike a decade ago where he’d been under a lot of pressure to let her find her own path and achieve her own dreams, he could damn well make a case for her to be with him.
    The age difference that had mattered back then had zero relevance now. So while he cooked up some breakfast in the big country kitchen he’d designed himself, he debated his next move. He wanted her to stay for Christmas. Wanted to explore all that spark and chemistry she’d tried to say didn’t exist. But more than that, he wanted to make peace with her, just like she’d suggested.
    He hadn’t been kidding when he told her it felt like fate that she’d arrived in town during a rare extended visit for him. As a professional athlete, he’d admit to being mildly superstitious when it came to game rituals. Maybe some of that superstition carried over to his situation with her. Seeing her again—finally following where all that attraction led—seemed like destiny.
    So by the time he heard her crutches striking the floor in the next room in that distinctive rhythm, he had a plan. He was going to keep her in Cloud Spin, preferably at his place, for as long as he could. If that meant he leveraged Christmas and the need to make peace with the past, he wouldn’t hesitate. With any luck, the project to open the outdoor rink had piqued her interest enough to keep her here for the holidays.
    “Something smells amazing.” She sounded surprised as she edged through the door from the bedroom into the breakfast room and toward the island where he worked at the cooktop. “Don’t tell me you can cook and scores goals in the NHL.” Her eyes were on the table where he’d laid out plates and a carafe of coffee. “I’m not entirely sure which one of those accomplishments I hold in higher regard. Judging by the smell, it might be the cooking.”
    She looked more like he remembered her this morning, with her face