The Holiday Hoax

Chapter Four

Aidan finished putting the final touches on dinner and set out a bottle of wine. The kitchen filled with the tantalizing aromas of fresh tomatoes and garlic. He sliced crusty Italian bread and placed chunks of mozzarella on the plate, then stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Perfect. He needed everything to be perfect tonight.

Because tonight he was telling her the truth.

Aidan fought off the nervous tug in his gut and poured the wine. For the past two weeks, they’d been together every evening. Each time he tried to confess, she turned those sparkling umbrella blue eyes on his, and her smile lit up her face, until he told himself he needed more time.

But time was running out.

He was due to return to the city and his responsibilities after Christmas. The Pasta King restaurant chain was a demanding business, and as second in command, he needed to be his father’s eyes and ears. But he was tired of working in the city under his father’s reign. He’d wanted this time upstate at the cabin to really discover what he wanted. Now he knew, but had no idea how to get it.

He wanted Isabella.

But would she want him when she learned his true identity?

The question had no time to be answered. The doorbell rang.

He opened it and his breath caught. Her honey colored curls tumbled over her shoulders, and her face was open and happy, her heart literally worn on her sleeve for him to see. Aidan had never met a woman who gave herself so freely and unselfishly, not asking for anything back. She was truthful, headstrong, and passionate. She was the woman he’d been spending his whole life looking for, and tonight he wanted no more secrets between them.

“I brought pastries from the bakery.” She held up a small box.

She wore a fuchsia pink turtleneck, hip hugging jeans, and low heeled boots. Golden hoops flirted with her hair as she turned her head. Her lips were painted in bright pink to match her shirt.

“Did you sneak any before you came?” he asked, studying her with narrowed eyes.

Isabella looked shocked. “Of course not!”

“We’ll see about that.” He pulled her close and kissed her. Like old lovers, her body peaked and responded to his with unconscious ardor, as his tongue thrust into her mouth to taste and stroke. His hands came around her body to grab her buttocks and arch her closer. He swallowed her moans with masculine pleasure. “Hmm, you’re right, you weren’t lying.”

She pushed him away in mock outrage and made her way into the cabin. “Very cute. You better feed me, buster. I’m starving.”

They feasted on the meal and drank wine under the mistletoe. After two heaping plates of pasta, she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied groan. Her sated expression tempted him to satisfy her in a whole lot of other ways. Most involved her being stripped naked and lying open for him. He fought a shudder and reached for patience.

“How did you learn to cook so well?” she asked.

Aidan sipped his wine and smiled at the memory. “God, I hate to say I was a mama’s boy. But I kind of was.” She laughed. “Since I was an only child, I grew up in the kitchen. My mother cooked night and day. Homemade pasta cranked by hand. Hunks of sausage and meatballs simmering in gravy for hours. I learned how to pick a fresh vegetable and the best way to carve meat before I even hit a baseball.” He shook his head. “Cooking made her happy. She’d invite cousins, neighbors, friends to the table. Most of my memories centered around meals.”

Isabella propped her face in her hands with a dreamy expression. “That sounds so wonderful. I’d love to meet your mom.”

Pain cut through him like a dull edged knife. “She died a few years back.”

She immediately reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Aidan, I didn’t know. That must have been hard on you, especially so young.”

“Yeah, it pretty much sucked. My father was more of the workaholic, disciplinarian. I love him, of course, but my mother always caught the big picture. My dad looked at life with more of a narrow view, so we clashed.”

“Is this why you don’t want to be involved with his business?”

Aidan closed his eyes. He needed to tell her. Everything. His heart pounded with nervous anticipation. Would she understand? Would she forgive him for keeping the truth from her? “I want to tell you more about the business, Isabella. Why don’t I set out the pastries, put more wood on the fire, and we’ll talk?”

“Sounds like a plan.” They cleaned up together and Aidan put on a pot of coffee while she sang “A Holly Jolly Christmas” in an uneven melody that made him laugh.

“Let me use the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” she said.

“Okay, I’ll put another log on the fire.” He walked to the woodpile and reminded himself they had deep feelings for one another. This was more than a one-night stand. He wanted a permanent relationship with Isabella, and he’d bet she felt the same. The way she looked at him with her heart in her eyes couldn’t lie.

He closed the door, stoked the fire, and turned.

Then froze.

Isabella stood in the doorway. She wore a tiny black lace slip that cupped her full breasts, skimmed her curvy hips, and halted mid-thigh. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in full burnished glory, and a faint blush touched her cheekbones as she shifted her bare feet and stared at him.

“Aidan?”

His name floated to his ears in a breathy whisper, rich with promise, husky with desire. Every thought he’d ever had, every emotion he ever experienced, all fled in the midst of the woman across the room, waiting for him to answer her.

He closed the distance between them in three quick strides and took her in his arms.

His fingers met silky, warm skin, and soft, full curves. He twisted his fingers in the thick waves of hair and tugged, exposing the delicate line of her throat and rapidly beating pulse. She moaned low in her throat and Aidan drank in her scent, punch drunk like a vampire about to feast. Her arousal drifted to his nostrils, and he bent his head to run his tongue down the vulnerable curve of her neck, nibbling, then sank his teeth gently into her skin.

She cried out and arched in his arms. With a low murmur of satisfaction, he scooped her into his arms, walked into the bedroom, and laid her on the bed.

His head pounded with an urgency he rarely felt when claiming a woman, and he shed his clothes in minutes to join her on the bed. Aidan took her mouth for a deep hungry kiss, while he tugged the delicate straps of her slip down over her shoulders. Bared to the waist, he stared at her ripe curves with delight, and she squirmed under his gaze, obviously uncomfortable at such rapt attention. Aidan bent his head, grasped one ruby nipple between his lips and sucked. The contrast between her soft skin and the hardness of her nipple made him crazy, and he rubbed his five o’clock shadow between her breasts as he kept up a steady suction. Her head tossed back and forth on the pillow as he pleasured her. Her breasts gleamed wetly in the moonlight, and he muttered his approval as he gently took one rigid tip between his teeth and tugged.

Her body shot up as sensation grabbed her. He laughed low in his throat and worked his way downward, pulling the slip inch by inch to reveal more of her body.

He kissed the flat curve of her belly and nipped at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. The delicious scents of vanilla and spice drifted to his nostrils. Halfway drunk on her scent and taste, he tossed the slip on the floor and sucked in his breath.

She wore no panties.

“You’re so frikkin’ beautiful,” he rasped. “Look at how perfect you are for me. So ready.” Tight golden curls hid her sex, but he deliberately pushed her thighs open. After a brief hesitation, she allowed him full access, and he spread her wide, glimpsing pink swollen lips. He slipped one finger into her tight, wet heat and shuddered with the intensity of her response. Aidan realized he wouldn’t be able to wait much longer to claim her. She gasped for breath, and her arousal eased the passage of his fingers as he stroked her deep. One finger. Two. Then—

“Aidan!”

“Not yet, baby. I have to taste you first, I’ve waited too long.” He dipped his head between her spread thighs and pressed his tongue against her swollen nub.

Liquid heat rushed over him. He drowned in her sweet taste as he allowed himself to explore her most intimate folds, his tongue stroking while his thumb rotated with teasing motions around her clit. She paused on the edge of release but he kept her there, refusing to give her the strong pressure she needed to climax. His name sang in his ears as she thrashed beneath him. When his own arousal became too much, he reached over to the table and grabbed a condom. He sheathed himself quickly and paused at her entrance. “Look at me, Isabella.”

Her eyes flew open. Deep blue eyes pierced his. Foggy with need. Dazed with passion.

He surged forward and claimed her.

Home.

His whole body shuddered with pleasure as her channel squeezed him and held him tight. He pulled out inch by inch, teasing the tight bud, then lifted her thighs and plunged.

Isabella cried out and spasmed around him. He milked her orgasm and savored every nuance of her expression as she let go, but soon he neared the edge and with one last thrust he climaxed. Every muscle tightened and released in a sweet agony he never experienced. He tucked her into his body and rolled to the side, his lips buried in her hair.

They lay together in the shadows of his bedroom, her heart beating under the palm of his hand. And slept.

Isabella stretched her muscles in luxurious satisfaction and watched the man sleeping beside her. In her wildest fantasies, she never believed she’d have a man make love to her with so much intensity. Usually a bit hesitant, she didn’t want Aidan to think she’d be a quick roll in the hay for a holiday affair. But after two weeks in his company, she knew they had much more.

She’d fallen in love with him.

He slept with as much intensity as he worked and played. One errant blond curl rested on his forehead, and she smoothed it back, caressing the slope of his brow, his crooked nose, the hard line of his jaw. Her thumb pressed over carved, sculpted lips, and her body quickened when she thought of that mouth tasting every inch of her skin.

His body was lean and hard, his hands able to grip her and hold her still as waves of pleasure bucked through her. He filled every inch of her and fought for more space, until she felt completely invaded, her body no longer just hers. No, he’d claimed more than her body in their lovemaking session.

He claimed her heart.

His eyes flew open. The golden depths burned like the sun, then turned warm like a half-lit summer afternoon. “Hi.”

Isabella smiled back. “Hi.”

“What time is it?”

“We only slept for an hour, it’s still early. I want dessert.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “I didn’t sate you enough, huh?”

She fought past a blush and knew she’d lost. “You did such a good job I need sustenance. Sugar specifically.”

“Then let’s rip into those pastries.”

She grabbed his shirt and buttoned it halfway, then strode ahead of him. His lusty whistle made her giggle, and she figured she’d be ready for round two sooner than originally planned. Isabella settled herself at the table and had just secured a chocolate croissant when her phone buzzed.

Aidan munched on a cannoli while she punched the numbers in her BlackBerry. Then frowned. “It’s Liz. She marked the text urgent and wants me to call.”

“Probably wants to talk to you about her date last night. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but, do you mind if I give her a quick ring?”

He smiled and pressed a kiss on her lips. He smelled deliciously of chocolate chips. “Of course not. But I may eat all the pastries.”

She punched in Liz’s number and drifted into the kitchen. Her friend answered on the second ring. “Hi, what’s up? Is anything wrong?”

Liz sounded wary. “Where are you?”

“At Aidan’s.” Silence. “Liz, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

“Did you have sex?”

“Liz!”

“What? We tell each other everything and this is important.”

Isabella glanced at her lover happily munching pastries and lowered her voice. “Yes. But I’m not discussing details.”

Her friend let out a relieved breath. “Thank God. Then he must have told you the truth and you know who he really is.”

A sliver of ice trickled down her spine. “What are you talking about?”

“The Pasta King, Izzy. Aidan Hunter is the son of the Pasta King. The most eligible bachelor in New York City.”

The room spun and she clutched the kitchen counter for balance. Her mind worked sluggishly to keep up with the information dump. “How do you know this?” she asked dimly.

“I googled him. Right after you started seeing him, I wanted to make sure I could trust him. I didn’t tell you because I figured if it got serious he’d tell you himself. Holy crap, you didn’t know? That bastard! Why is he still pretending to work on a tree farm when he’s one of the richest men in the state?”

Isabella heard her friend droning on with a variety of insults she knew well. Finally, she fought herself back to composure. The silly joy drained out of her body and left an empty void. Her tone was wooden when she managed to speak. “I’ve gotta go, Liz. I’ll be okay. I need to talk to him.”

She pressed the button and ended the call. The past hovered and crashed around her. What game was he playing? My God, had he been leading her on the whole time, slumming with the elementary teacher upstate? Did he plan to return to the gorgeous, poised, city women able to properly handle the heir to an empire? Nausea slammed her stomach and she fought for control. Then slowly walked out to the dining room.

“Well?” Aidan asked. “How bad was the date? Did she—” he trailed off, taking in her expression with concern. “Iz? Are you okay?”

The man she loved had lied to her. She felt horribly exposed in his shirt and bare feet. Isabella wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed. “I guess that’s how you know how to cook so well,” she said quietly. “After all, The Pasta King is known worldwide as the best Italian restaurant chain to surpass Olive Garden.”

The truth hit him full force and was reflected in his face. He rose from the chair and took a step toward her. “Isabella, please sit down. I’ll explain everything.”

“No thank you, I’d rather stand.” Her polite, chilly words hit the mark. Her teacher demeanor wrapped around her like a cloak. “Why don’t you start with who you really are?”

“I am Aidan Hunter. My father built the restaurants, and he’s known as the Pasta King. The stupid name stuck to me when I was born and began training to take over the business.”

She kept her expression neutral. “Funny I didn’t recognize you from your photo. Voted most eligible bachelor by Cosmopolitan magazine. Congratulations.”

He winced. “I hate those damn magazines. I’m the same person I showed you, Izzy. Everything I told you was the truth. I just left out my actual business.”

Her voice hissed. “Truth? You haven’t told me the real truth since we met. What are you doing here? Escaping for a holiday break in the mountains? Bored of your city women so you decided to have a hot affair with a country teacher? Needed to mix things up a bit? You son of a bitch—you knew what happened to me with my ex! And you still kept the truth from me. I feel so stupid!”

She watched him grab at his temper. He raked his fingers through his hair, then clenched his fists. “Don’t you dare say that. You’re more than a holiday affair and everything you said isn’t true. I was drowning. I’ve been unhappy and feeling overwhelmed by life. I needed a break, so I took a month to stay in our upstate cabin so I could figure out what I really want. I took some odd jobs on the side to fill the time and give me an opportunity to meet new people.”

“Was I some kind of experiment?” she asked bitterly, pacing back and forth. Ice prickled her spine as humiliation settled over her. “I get it. I’m good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to bring home to daddy. Right?”

“Don’t.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her into his arms. Isabella fought him but he held her in an implacable grip as his mouth took hers. Her body betrayed her, opening under his carved lips, meeting each thrust of his tongue in an intimate battle. Her breasts swelled and peaked, demanding his attention. She grew wet, and Isabella dug her nails fiercely into his shoulders, giving him back all of her rage and lust and need.

He tore his mouth from her, breathing hard. “You’re not some half assed affair, Isabella,” he said softly. “You’re the woman I fell in love with.”

Silence shattered the room. Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she stared at him. Her voice tore out in a ragged whisper. “Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not. I know it’s only been a short time but I know. I just want to be with you.”

She shook her head hard. “No, you’re running away from a life you don’t want anymore. And I don’t want to be that excuse. You’re a millionaire with a family legacy and your photo in celebrity magazines. You live a different life, and you just can’t throw it away because things get rough.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Are you sure?” She tilted her head up and locked her gaze with his. “You were looking for a distraction because you’re not happy. I come along and suddenly you seem to have the answers. But you don’t.” Her heart splintered in her chest and the pain buried in deep. She ached to believe he loved her and they could make it work. But he was running away, and until he realized what he wanted in life, she would always wonder if she was enough. “You didn’t tell me for a reason, Aidan. Because you don’t know what you want yet. “

He gripped her hands. “Izzy, since I met you I realized I was missing a piece of myself. Damnit, I was going to tell you the truth tonight—I told you I needed to talk. I don’t want to go back to the city. I want to stay here with you.”

“I won’t let you.” She dropped his hands and moved away. “I’m sorry, Aidan. You need to figure things out on your own. Some part of you didn’t trust me not to walk away once I knew the truth. And you were right. Because you’re not ready yet. I can’t be an excuse to leave an empire behind on a whim. I need more than that.”

“I’ll work it out.”

She paused in the hallway. “I promised I’d never put myself in a position where I felt lacking. If you stay now, I’ll always wonder when I’ve stopped being good enough.”

“That won’t happen.”

She shook her head. “Go back home, Aidan. Find out what you want.”

Isabella kept her hands steady as she put on her clothes, grabbed her purse and walked out the door. He said her name once. The sweet sound caressed her ears, and she hung on to it, knowing it would be the last time she heard his voice.

Then she turned the knob and left him standing in the middle of the cabin, alone.

She’d left him.

Aidan stared at the closed door in shock. The truth of her words hit hard, and he stumbled to the liquor cabinet to pour two fingers of Scotch. His fingers trembled around the glass but the liquid burned hot in his tightening throat.

What had he done?

His mind grasped for answers. Aidan assumed once he explained the truth about his identity, she’d understand. That they’d work out a plan. But he began to realize the responsibility wasn’t Isabella’s. She knew who she was. She knew what she wanted.

He didn’t have a clue.

His gut twisted with his own lies. No, that wasn’t true. His father knew what he wanted his son to be: a clone. He wanted him to rule New York City and their restaurants on his terms. But Aidan had other ideas—ideas that pulsed deep inside but ones he was too afraid to fight for—too afraid to admit he wanted.

Aidan thought the hoax was a way to protect himself and find what he really wanted.

It had worked. He’d found Isabella Summers. But the same hoax had caused him to lose her.

Aidan gazed at the closed door and wondered what the hell he was going to do.

Isabella propped her slipper-clad feet on the tabletop and reached for another handful of popcorn. Jimmy Stewart slid through the snow-slick streets in It’s A Wonderful Life, screaming Mary’s name. She’d already cried a few times though she knew the movie by heart. Of course, since Aidan had left two weeks ago, she’d been weepy all the time.

Izzy sighed and her gaze flickered to Charlie Brown. The lights flickered cheerily in memory of the man she’d met over a month ago on a Christmas tree farm. The Pasta King. The richest, most eligible bachelor in the city. Interested in a small town elementary school teacher.

What a joke.

The inner taunting voice couldn’t seem to shake her belief their time together hadn’t been a lie. When Aidan kissed her and looked in her eyes, she knew the man he was. He’d shared stories of his family, his upbringing, and she could see how he’d screened carefully to keep his identity hidden. Still, something told her he’d revealed more to her than he had with women before him.

Not that it mattered. She’d discovered he returned to New York without a word. Probably would forget about her as soon as New Years hit, surrounded by gorgeous society women who catered to his every need.

Jerk.

She stuffed another handful of popcorn in her mouth when the doorbell rang.

Isabella looked down at her ratty robe, bunny slippers and old T-shirt with sweatpants. Who could that be? Liz would be out on a hot date—her family was all gathering for Christmas dinner tomorrow. She went to the door and peered out the curtain.

Aidan Hunter stood on her doorstep.

Izzy wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her robe, raked her fingers through her knotted hair, and groaned. Oh for God’s sake, what was he doing here on Christmas Eve? The bell rang again and she knew he’d spotted her. With a deep breath, she opened the door.

“Aidan.”

His gaze raked over her evening attire. Amusement gleamed within golden eyes, and his mouth curved upward in that sexy grin that made her want to rip his clothes off. “Can I come in?”

She motioned him in and wondered if she could escape to put on some make-up. Then pulled back her feminine instincts, reminding herself a relationship could never work between them.

“My favorite movie.” He pointed to the television. “Wouldn’t everyone want the opportunity to have a do over?”

“Aidan, what do you want? It’s Christmas Eve. Did you drive up from the city?”

“I needed to ask you an important question,” he said.

“You could have called.”

“Not with this question.”

Isabella squirmed in her bunny slippers, wishing she had on a sexy cocktail dress with heels. She stalked back over to the couch and sat down stubbornly, refusing to stand in front of him. “Fine. Ask your question, then.”

“Now that you know I’m the Pasta King, does it change your feelings for me?”

Her mouth fell open like a guppy. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You didn’t answer the question. I lied to you because I was afraid. And you were right—I didn’t know what I wanted. But now I figured things out. But do you know what you want?”

“I didn’t pretend to be someone I wasn’t.”

“Yes, but are you willing to love someone even if he doesn’t fit your perfect image?” Aidan paced back and forth, seeming to seek the right words. “I’m not a small town dentist, Izzy. The papers write messy articles and reporters sometimes hound me. I love my father, but he’s domineering and sometimes controlling, so I’m always standing up to him to be my own man. All this time I was so afraid I’d find a woman who wouldn’t see me for who I really was. I thought she’d want my money, my image, my family. I never imagined she wouldn’t want me. I assumed, like an ass, that I was the prize. Until you. Now I’m terrified I’m not good enough to be in your life.”

He paused in front of her, his face naked and vulnerable as he spoke. “I fell for you the moment you saved that damn Charlie Brown tree. I love this small town. And I do love the restaurant business. That’s what I’ve been missing. I spoke with my father and told him the truth. I’m moving out of the city. I’m going to open up my own Pasta King restaurant right here in Poughkeepsie. I’m branching out for myself and cutting the ties with my father. I want to do the work I love but in a place I can make a home for myself.” He paused. “I love you, Isabella Summers. And I want to make a home with you. If you want me.”

Isabella stared up at the man before her. A low humming rang in her ears. Slowly, she rose from the couch and walked toward him. Her hands cupped his beloved face and her heart squeezed, then bloomed to monstrous proportions, threatening to compete with the Grinch after the Christmas spirit invaded his soul.

Her voice came out husky with emotion. “You had me the moment you haggled over the price of that tree. I don’t care if you’re rich or poor and I don’t care what anyone calls you. Because you’re the man I love. I can deal with nosy reporters and a dynamic father-in-law as long as I have you.” She leaned her forehead against his and caressed a stray golden curl off his brow. “I needed to know I was what you really wanted.”

His mouth came down on hers, claiming her with possessive, long thrusts of his tongue. She buried her fingers in his hair, her hips arching upward to meet his, the delicious taste of hot male hunger swamping her senses. “I never knew bunny slippers could be so damn sexy,” he murmured, lifting her high in his arms and pressing her deep into the couch cushions.

Isabella laughed and worked on the buttons of his shirt, tugging off the fabric. She bit the slope of his shoulder in gentle punishment and felt his answering shudder. “I’m glad you like them. The matching robe is on my Christmas list.”

“I may never recover.” His lips traced down the sensitive curve of her neck to her breasts. Her breath came in short, choppy gasps. “I think this is the best Christmas present I’ve ever unwrapped. You taste so sweet.”

Clothes dropped away and he held her tight. His lean, muscled body pressed against every lush curve. “Aidan.” His name broke from her lips and he took her mouth with possession as he claimed her. The night grew darker and the twinkling tree lights cast shadows over the wall. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too. Merry Christmas, baby.”

And Isabella knew it would be a very good year.