What Mistletoe Is For (Blushing Books 12 Days of Christmas 2) Read online

  "Door's open," he called out.

  In walked Casey. Over her shoulder she'd draped her open jacket and dangling from her wrist was a small leather backpack.

  "Hey," she greeted him.

  "Hey, Case." Preston tried to appear nonchalant, slipping off his reading glasses.

  Though not before she'd seen him in those brown-rimmed spectacles. A smile came to her.

  "Don't you look like a stern professor," she drawled.

  She was teasing him? He took that as a good sign, even though he could still he headed straight for bad news.

  "Haven't seen you in a couple of days." Preston thought he was getting better at that small-talk business.

  "Yeah. Been a few days. Thanks to your assistant for taking care of Storm in my absence."

  "That's what we're here for."

  "Oh. Okay." She slipped off her jacket. "If you're busy, I can come back. Looks like you're busy."

  "I'm playing writer right now."

  Was that a sad smile on her face? His heart sank.

  "So I should come back," Casey assumed out loud.

  "No. I'm—I wasn't really writing anyway."

  "All right, well..."

  First putting her backpack on the same chair with her jacket, she brought out a wide, wooden brush that had a long enough handle to grasp.

  "Um... were you serious about that—that spanking with a brush?"

  Tilting his head to the side, he half grinned. Now this, he hadn't expected at all.

  "Here? Now?" He sat up in his chair.

  "Here. Now. We don't have to if you're busy." Casey looked nervous after setting the brush on his desk. She was rubbing her hands against her sides, looking like a rebellious schoolgirl about to receive her comeuppance in the headmaster's office.

  "So you'd like to get it over with?"

  "Yes... sir."

  Preston blinked twice. How long had it been since anyone, and he was thinking expressly of a woman being submissive to him, addressed him by that term of respect?

  Even more irresistible was that the word had spilled, so awkwardly and yet so sweetly, from Casey's lips.

  "That's—well, I appreciate you being so mature that you're not hoping I'll forget," he began.

  "I'm sure you have no intention to, Preston Fuller."

  He wanted to chuckle, but managed to glare sternly at her.

  "But all the same, we're going to wait for that spanking with the brush."

  "You're—why?" She frowned at him.

  "Because, young lady, you're spanked when I decide you'll be spanked. Not just to 'get it over with.'"

  Casey clicked her tongue. Had she also stamped her foot?

  "You're... mean!"

  That was too adorable for him not to laugh heartily. The best part was that she wasn't being dramatic; Casey was serious, and she looked like an angry child. His laughter made her eyes light up with fire.

  "I'm not mean." He was patient and calm in responding.

  "Yes, you are! Can't we just get this over with?"

  "That's not how it works. And you know that. Or has it been so long that you've forgotten?"

  She switched gears. "I don't even know why I'm getting this spanking. With—with the brush."

  "Well, let me refresh your memory. You were daring—or sassy enough—to be sarcastic and disrespectful...while you were being spanked with my hand. That ring a bell now, young lady?"

  Her hands dropped down behind her. Now he remembered she had a habit of doing that sometimes. She would instinctively try to protect her bottom from the inevitable spanking.

  "Now, wanna go out for dinner tomorrow?" Pleasantly, he had changed the subject.

  "Huh!" Casey folded her arms across her chest and went around his desk, seating herself on the corner and challenging him with a stare. "So then I won't know when your royal highness will decide to spank me?"

  "You won't have to wait long, darlin'. I promise. For now, you can have dinner with me in peace. And if you're a good girl, you'll even get some dessert."

  His easygoing attitude in trying to get her to lighten up only served to make her even angrier.

  That, he did recall—how cute she was when she was angry.

  "Maybe I'll make you wait an hour. Forget ten minutes," she snapped. "I'll really make you mad. Then you won't have a choice but to spank me with the brush."

  "It's almost Christmas, Casey."

  "Yes? And?"

  "And I was going to get you something nice for under the tree. Why fight with me now, right before Christmas?"

  He had gotten through to her without meaning to. That was no tease. He really had been thinking of getting her a gift.

  "You're going to give me something nice after all those years? After I broke up with you?" Her voice shook. "And I wouldn't return your calls? Why?"

  "Why do you think?" His own voice was hoarse. Preston had drawn closer to her. "It's been a long time. But I still—"

  He stopped himself. Casey gazed back at him but then dropped her head.

  "I'll just let you go back to writing your book," she muttered. "If you won't be nice to me and get this over with—"

  "Casey, I'm spanking you for being disrespectful and getting smart with me the other night. Why do you really want this spanking?"

  In her eyes, he saw tears. When he swallowed, he tasted tears at the back of his throat.

  "I really think I need to go home." Casey let herself slide off the edge of the desk and stumbled over to the chair to get her things.

  "Casey—hold on."

  She looked up at him as he came around the table, the brush still in her hand as she was about to put it away.

  "I'll take that." Preston held out his hand, waiting for her to give it to him, the color suddenly gone from her face. "I'll go lock the door. You take those jeans and your panties down. Right now."

  "But—you said—"

  "You said you wanted to get it over with. Fine. Pants down, and I want you to bend over that desk."

  To her credit, if she wasn't as fueled by bravado now, she was still keeping her head high. Preston locked the door, even though he doubted anyone would bother them at that hour. For more privacy, he pulled the curtains closed.

  That night, he hadn't been expecting to administer a spanking. When he returned to the desk, she was still sliding her pants down over her hips. Her panties came down next.

  Without a word, he bent her over the desk and wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady. It was quiet enough in the office that he could hear her crying softly. Her tears, he suspected, had nothing to do with the attention he was about to pay her bottom.

  Her shapely bottom, which jumped a bit when that brush made contact with her cheeks. She let out a cry but remained in place as the brush connected again and again, the thwack filling that previously quiet office.

  "This is for sassing me." Preston was driving that point home more than lecturing. "For being disrespectful."

  Was he getting through to her? All he heard from her was a small, plaintive, "Yes, sir."

  You're not being spanked for the past.

  Though he'd never been intuitive, he was good at sensing what was going on with someone he loved. The fact was, he'd known Casey Jordan well. Once. A long time ago.

  His heart wasn't even into giving her that paddling. He put the strength of his arm behind that brush, and in no time her behind was a stingy shade of hot pink.

  "That's enough, Casey." Preston tossed aside the brush and roughly brought her to her feet.

  She blinked several times, reaching back to rub her spanked butt.

  "That's... that's all?" Clearly, she was confused.

  She would feel that spanking tonight. Luckily, she didn't have far to go, but sitting in the driver's seat would still make for a prickly experience.

  He hadn't spanked a woman since they'd been apart. He hadn't been close enough to a woman to introduce spanking in their relationship.

  Yet he knew Casey hadn't don
e anything to merit a harder spanking than what she'd just received.

  That said, he knew her well enough to know that she'd needed to be spanked. She was struggling, though she wasn't telling him why. That was what all that bratting beforehand had been about. He had obliged, but he, too, was struggling.

  "I can pull my pants back up?"

  "Yeah. Here." As he helped her, he heard her hiss from the scratchy denim coming back up over a sore bottom. "Mistakes are made sometimes. And sometimes what happens is what's supposed to happen."

  I don't begrudge you for having loved your husband. I'm glad you were happy, even if it wasn't with me. That's all I've ever wanted for you.

  Did he really feel that way? Then why couldn't he get the words out?

  Instead of asking him what he meant, she nodded and swallowed hard. Casey looked like she was fighting back tears.

  "Have a good night, Preston," she uttered before grabbing her backpack and hurrying out the door.

  He sighed and sank behind the desk again. His laptop's monitor had gone into sleep mode, displaying a still of horses in mid-run along a beach rather than his open manuscript.

  She had left without them both solidifying plans to see each other later that week, as he would have wanted. Could he blame her for that?

  In his haste to clear things up between them, he'd managed to confuse her even more.

  In her own hurry to leave, she had forgotten her horse's brush. He spied it on the carpet a few feet away from his desk, where he'd tossed it.

  Once more, he and Casey had made a mess of things.

  And he'd so hoped that Christmas would bring the love they'd shared to life, the love that had been put aside and forgotten for so many years.

  Chapter Four

  On the way to the hospital, that twenty-third of December, Casey's thoughts drifted back to her earliest recollection of a grown woman being spanked.

  That was a real spanking—not that the ones she'd come across in old movies hadn't fascinated her.

  Growing up in the house where her parents had raised her, she'd known the couple next door in passing. Lovely people, young parents who'd sold their house and moved when she was thirteen.

  About a year earlier, she remembered being out on the back porch, on the swing, and seeing something odd through the screen of the neighbors' rear porch. She'd heard bickering—not arguing, but bickering—and through the screen, she could make out the husband taking the wife across his lap. Neither of them had seen her as the husband proceeded to spank his wife over her panties with a wooden spoon, her skirt pulled up over her waist.

  That grown up lady was getting spanked! Casey had covered her mouth so as not to laugh out loud and draw attention to herself. At the same time, she found it all exciting. She could feel each time that spoon connected with the wife's backside, her own bottom tingling with the sound. For years afterwards, she fondly relived the memory in her imagination.

  The secret she'd kept was that it was whatever man she was seeing at the time, or whatever man she was attracted to, and the woman on the receiving end of that spanking would be her.

  She had never, in her wildest dreams, believed she would one day be in love with a man who had no qualms about turning her over his knee for a good, old-fashioned spanking.

  The reality had hurt a heck of a lot more than the fantasy. Even a recent spanking that had mysteriously been cut short. Despite that, she'd still slept on her tummy that night.

  "Mrs. Wright was a couple days off in her prediction," a nurse told Casey as she was washing her hands.

  "Yes! This baby is being very thoughtful about coming before Christmas," Casey jested.

  On the outside, she was laughing and jovial. On the inside, her heart was in pieces.

  That young mother-to-be had bravely endured the internal exam, though it couldn't be denied she was in pain. Seven centimeters.

  "That baby's coming," Casey told her. "Won't be long now..."

  *****

  Another four and a half hours passed before Mrs. Wright gave birth to her son. Normally, Casey lost herself in her work and left her troubles behind when a new baby was coming into the world.

  That day had been the most difficult she'd had in a long time.

  Before changing back into her clothes and getting on the elevator, she had seen the fresh snowfall through the window. Fat, white flakes, and they were sticking, too. She reached for her cell phone and saw one missed call.

  Preston.

  The time of the call had told her he'd called her while she was in the delivery room, assisting a nervous, new mother on one of the most important days of her life.

  All it would take would be for her to call him and tell him that. Preston more than understood the nature of her job; he had told her he was proud of her.

  What a team we'd make, you and me.

  Casey stepped out of the elevator and took the long walk down the corridor to the lobby entrance. There was a different way to reach the parking deck, one that would be entirely inside, but she believed the walk outside would do her good.

  You have to call him back. But what if he's calling to say he wants to meet you To say it's not working out and that he wants to end the relationship again?

  She had to call him back. Because she'd refused to call him back all those years ago. In effect, she had thrown them away. Both of them had given up on their love.

  To her right, she saw the ambulances, two of them, several yards away, parked at the entrance to the emergency room. Two nurses and a resident doctor were looking on.

  "Two ambulances?" Casey asked.

  The doctor turned to her and nodded. "Car accident. One of the drivers is alive, but barely. They don't think he's going to make it."

  Casey felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach.

  How eerily similar to that night that her beloved Gary died. He, too, had been clinging to life when he was brought to the hospital. Within the hour, a doctor had given her the news that her husband had died.

  All the way to the car, she was aware of the cold but hardly felt it. She had left her umbrella in the car and was covered with snow when she finally started the engine. "Silver Bells" was playing on the radio.

  She reached for her phone. So caught up in her job, she'd forgotten to recharge it. Her heart pounded, watching as the screen went black.

  *****

  As he stood on the porch to Casey's home, Preston Fuller's pride badgered him to walk away forever.

  Ultimately, this wasn't about his pride or hers. That might have been the case the first time around for them; it wasn't the case now.

  Standing on the porch, he leaned against the railing and watched the snow come down. A white Christmas—not such a rare event that close to the Blue Ridge Mountains. Like most people who had lived in cold climates, a snow-covered Christmas always made him feel nostalgic and wistful.

  This year, even more so.

  She could avoid his calls if she wanted to. This time, he wasn't walking out of her life without saying his peace.

  It wasn't so cold that he couldn't stand there a bit longer, though he kept his hands tucked snugly in the pockets of his jeans. Preston was grateful when he saw Casey's Prius come up the street and pull into the driveway, right beside his Jeep Grand Cherokee.

  His heart ached. Then he saw her spilling from the car with a smile on her face. She made her way to him, trudging through the four inches of snow that had fallen, and he stepped off the porch to meet her.

  "I saw that you called," she told him right away. "But I was at the hospital with a delivery and my phone died. Ohhhh!"

  Casey had slipped right into his arms. She seemed to be luxuriating in his embrace, and Preston didn't speak, also savoring holding her in his arms.

  "You didn't recharge your phone? Baby, you have to be careful," he scolded affectionately. "In this weather and all. What if your car broke down in this?"

  "You're right. Hard to think of that when you're in charge of delive
ring a seven-pound bundle of joy!"

  Casey smiled at his laugh and kissed him deeply on the mouth. "Please tell me you haven't been out here long."

  "Ah, only half hour or so."

  "Oh, my. Come on in. Warm up. I'll fix us some coffee."

  "Coffee. Coffee sounds so good. Being inside a warm house with you sounds even better. But first..."

  He waited until she had let them into the house. Casey tossed her purse into the closet and unzipped her coat. He unbuttoned his jacket.

  "But first?" she prompted, gazing back at him with a hopeful expression.

  Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and took her hands in his.

  "I should never have left you go the other night," he said. "Not without explaining what I meant. Casey, it's okay that you found love with someone after we broke up, even if it wasn't me. You were happy, and he was good to you. We made a mistake together, but then life took a different turn for you. I love you enough that I can say that. And this is a new day now."

  Did that come out right? He wasn't sure until she reached up and kissed him again.

  "I love you for that, Preston. I really do. And we have a second chance for a life together now." In the gentle light of the foyer's lamp, she looked to him more beautiful than ever. "I don't ever want anything to come between us again. I don't want to ever lose you again."

  "And I want us to be together for the rest of our lives, too."

  In that moment his arms closed around her and Casey hugged his neck. Those were words he hadn't expected to hear him say, and he had thought he would be leaving there with a sadness he hadn't experienced in many years.

  Instead, his heart was light, and he felt so alive.

  "This is going to be my favorite Christmas." He smiled and kissed her deeply.

  "Mine, too. And I can't wait to see what this new year is going to bring..." Her voice cracked with emotion and she gazed up at him. "Now that you'll be there with me."

  Epilogue

  Mariah Carey was singing "All I Want for Christmas is You" as Preston pulled the Jeep in front of the cabin. It hadn't snowed yet, but the weather forecasts were calling for the white stuff to start falling sometime after midnight. Preston turned off the engine and turned to his bride, who was seated in the passenger seat beside him.