The Complete Christmas Collection

“YOU REALLY DO have a ramp.”

“Yeah. You thought I would lie about a ramp?” Nico carried Grace from the neatly plowed driveway toward his house. “The previous owners were a hundred and ten years old.”

“You didn’t have to carry me,” she said, protesting once again. The woman was extremely hard to spoil, he thought. Here he was doing the knight-in-shining-armor routine and she’d rather be limping downhill in the cold, dark night. He wished he could have pulled the car into the garage, but it was filled with a boat, six kayaks and two Jet Skis, all of which belonged to his sisters and their assorted husbands and children.

“It’s fifteen degrees out, in case you haven’t noticed. This is faster.” Plus, he got to hold her in his arms. He shook his head at the sappy thought. He hadn’t held anyone for over seven months, which, of course, no one would believe. His sisters had offered to fix him up with their friends and their friends’ younger sisters, cousins and coworkers, but he wasn’t interested.

He’d been waiting. He was thirty-five and he knew what—and who—he wanted. Maybe he’d get lucky and get his wish.

“I’ve driven past this house so many times,” Grace said. “I always liked how it sat on the hill and looked over the road to the lake. I like all of the houses around here.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He was grateful for the automatic lights that lit the walkway to the back door and bathed it in a light bright enough to help him find the right key. “I’m going to set you down for a second, all right? But hold on to me. I just need to unlock the door.”

“I’m okay.” She clutched the plastic shopping bag and her purse in one hand, his sleeve in the other.

Al’s excited barking began. The mutt didn’t believe in barking at strangers, only people who had keys. The sound of a key in the lock sent him into raptures of joy.

“You have a dog!”

“I do. Does that surprise you?”

“A little,” she admitted. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I don’t think you know what type I am,” Nico replied. “Brace yourself. He might wag you off your feet.” Al, his aging yellow Labrador mix, blocked the foyer. He woofed and wagged, torn between greeting Nico and his curiosity over the visitor. Nico noticed that Grace properly held her hand out for Al to sniff, but anyone could see that the dog wasn’t the least bit aggressive.

“Hi, Al.” Grace stroked the dog’s head, but she kept hold of Nico’s arm. “Are you glad to see us?”

“He spends most of his days, when I’m working, with my oldest sister. She lives farther up the hill, not far from here. She spoils him rotten. I hired my nephew to take him for walks after school.” Very slow walks, since the dog had grown lame from arthritis. He preferred to hang out by the gas stove and sleep on his heated dog bed. “They bring him home after dinner and he spends his evenings sleeping.”

“You are such a good dog,” Grace told him, and Al wriggled as best he could in response to the compliment.

Nico managed to maneuver Grace onto the bench by the door, next to Al’s water and food bowls, and then helped her remove her coat and the one tennis shoe. She left her socks on, which looked adorably sexy with the sleek red dress.

“I’m going to carry you again,” he said, lifting her into his arms, and for once she didn’t protest. She looked paler than she had at the clinic, more fragile. He needed to get her settled, as he’d promised. They walked down the hall, past the laundry room and a bathroom, then into the kitchen. Al pattered behind them, staying close.

“Your favorite room, of course.”

“Of course.” The original dark wood cabinets stretched to the ceiling, the appliances were from the 1980s, the counter an old cracked white Formica. “I’ll need to replace the countertop and the appliances soon,” he explained. “But I don’t want to change it too much.”

A large battered pine farm table stretched along one side of the room under the expanse of windows, sixteen chairs around it. The table, which once belonged to a nearby summer camp, had been the first thing he’d bought for the house. His sister Marie had found an assortment of wooden chairs at estate sales and had painted them the palest shade of blue.

“Your house is beautiful,” she murmured, gazing into the living area that faced the lake. “It looks like everyone’s fantasy of the perfect Victorian summer home, only better.”

“I haven’t had time to buy much furniture.” Al’s enormous dog bed sat in front of the fireplace, a twin for the one that graced the lobby of the lodge. He owned one tan sofa—a reject from his parents—and an old round coffee table, which had been left there by the previous owners. Two plastic laundry baskets full of toys sat in one corner, an enormous and very bare Christmas tree in the other, though hills of wrapped gifts lined the wall under the windows. Seen through Grace’s eyes, the place would seem pretty sparse. As if he wasn’t doing it justice or something. Suddenly he doubted his wisdom in bringing her here. “Getting the restaurant back up to—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Grace interrupted, her voice soft. “You should take your time, buy only what you want, what feels right.”

“Exactly,” he said. That was the way he operated. He waited for exactly what he wanted, which might explain why Grace was here, in his arms and in his house. “It drives my sisters crazy. They’re dying to decorate this place.”

“You have a close family.”

“Close would be an understatement. Three sisters, three brothers-in-law, a nephew, four nieces and another baby on the way. They are constantly in and out of here.”

“Which explains the toys in the living room.”

“And the jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table. Anna is eleven and she’s crazy about them. It can get a little hectic.” But he was never more grateful to his sisters than he was now. Marie and her three children, who lived less than half a mile away, took care of Al. Cathy came every Monday and cleaned, telling him she needed the exercise and the excuse to get out of the house with the kids, who were two and four. Beth, the sister with an MBA, oversaw his investments, handled his money and managed his manager. His parents ran Vitelli’s, with the help of their three daughters, two excellent assistants, a head chef and an aging but devoted staff.

He headed past the living room to the master bedroom, a large white-walled room with a king-size bed and its own bathroom, complete with soaking tub and separate shower.

“Here you go,” he said, setting Grace on the quilt-covered bed.

“This is your room.” She frowned up at him. “I can’t take your bed.”

“I don’t sleep here. My room and office are upstairs, along with two more bedrooms and two bathrooms.”

“Really?” Those beautiful blue eyes held doubt.

“Really.” He grabbed the neatly placed bed pillows and tucked them behind her. “Time for dinner and pain pills. And ice.”

He handed her the remote control and pointed to the television set mounted on the wall across the room. “See? All the comforts of home.”

“I just need my cell phone.”

“I’ll get it,” he assured her, moving away from the bed. He hoped Patsy had handled any emergencies, though what could go wrong with pizza and raffles in the bar? He’d donated gift certificates to the restaurant and also to Vitelli’s, as his parents supported every charity in town.

“Thank you.” Grace winced as she stretched out her foot. “You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble, but it feels really, really good to lie down.”

“Good. I’ll come back with your things and then you can tell me what you want to eat.”

“I get to boss around the famous Nico Vitelli?”

“Not many people can say that,” he said, fleeing the room before he said something stupid, like, You can boss me around for the rest of my life if you want.

“ARE YOU GOING to need any help getting your clothes off?”

Grace looked up from her tray of food. He’d brought her ravioli stuffed with some kind of wonderful cheese filling and drizzled with a light pesto sauce. He’d offered salad and an apple tart, but she’d politely refused. He’d left her to eat while he took Al outside, but he’d been in and out of the room making sure she had everything she needed.

“I think I can manage.” She eyed the crutches propped against the nightstand. “I’m pretty sure I can get my nightgown on without falling over.”

“Well, if I hear a crash I’ll come racing in and pick your naked body up off the floor, so don’t lock the door.”

“Okay.” She felt herself blush again and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Dinner was delicious,” she said, changing the subject from nude bodies to food.

Al padded over and rested his chin on the mattress next to her hip, so she reached over and stroked his head. The dog closed his eyes and inched closer.

“He’ll want to sleep with you,” Nico warned. “Don’t be too nice.”

“I don’t mind. There’s plenty of room.” She’d had a dog after her mother passed away, a little spaniel mix that followed her everywhere. He had died during her junior year of high school, and stepmother number three had refused to consider adopting another, which had left a pretty big gap when it came to having someone to love.

“Not a good idea. What if he rolled over on your foot?”

“It’s my right foot. He can sleep on the left side. If he wants to.”

“I usually carry him upstairs at night.”

“You do?”

“His hind legs are bad. He can’t do stairs.”

That was a sweet picture, the fancy Hollywood chef carrying his old dog to bed. “Did he live with you in California?”

“Yes. He loved the pool.”

“I’ll bet.” Al leaned closer and whined. Nico leaned over and removed the tray. “What else can I get you? Tea? Coffee? Cookies? My mother sent over a platter two days ago. She’s obsessed with baking right now.”

“I could eat a dozen cookies, so don’t tempt me.” She set her cell phone on the nightstand. The pain pill she’d taken before dinner was making her drowsy, and now that she’d checked her messages, all she wanted to do was crash. “I got interesting news from Julie Barrett.”

“The runaway bride?”

“Don’t call her that. She didn’t run away. She just...changed her mind. Better than marrying the wrong man.”

Nico perched on the edge of the bed and looked at her foot, now devoid of the boot and covered with an ice pack. “There would be nothing worse than marrying the wrong person. Have you ever been married?” he asked.

“No.”

“Engaged?”

She hesitated. “No. I thought we were heading in that direction, but I was wrong. What about you?”

“No. My friends tell me I’m too fussy. My mother says I’m too old and set in my ways. And my father tells me not to worry, I’ll know when I meet the right woman.”

“My father has been married three times and engaged twice. He has a new girlfriend every year.”

“And your mother?”

“She died when I was twelve. Cancer. They were divorced before that, though. But we all lived in the same small town north of Boston. She was a teacher.”

“You must miss her. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I was lucky to have my aunt Ellen. That’s how I ended up working here, in upstate New York.” Those summers with her aunt and cousins had saved her from cranky stepmothers and emotional scenes between her father and the women he loved and left.

“So, what was the message from Julie Barrett?”

“She’s given her wedding to Noelle.”

“Noelle? At the lodge?”

“Yes. She’s engaged to Ted and they were planning a small, inexpensive wedding. I guess Julie and Noelle talked and Julie gave her the entire thing. Most of it had been paid for, and Noelle’s wedding won’t be as big, so it shouldn’t cost Ted and Noelle anything, unless they have an open bar.”

“Dinner for eighty-five people,” Nico said. “Beef Wellington. The Barrett family wouldn’t get much of their deposit back anyway.”

“Now it won’t go to waste. What do you think?”

“The food was never going to go to waste,” he said. “Not in my kitchen.”

“But the cake. And the decorations. And the flowers.” She sighed contentedly. “All the beautiful flowers.”

“I think it’s a very kind and generous gesture.”

Grace blinked back tears. “I think so, too. I mean, Noelle has that little boy, and Ted has to go back overseas, someplace dangerous—did you know he’s a Green Beret?—and they will just love the fairy lights in the jars and the pinecone place-card holders and the little jingle bells, don’t you think?” Her voice caught on a sob.

“Grace?”

“I love weddings,” she whispered. “I always wanted to get married on Christmas Eve. You know, to make it special?”

He leaned forward and took her into his arms. “Oh, Grace. All weddings are special. Or should be. You make them that way.”

She flopped against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. “This is so embarrassing.”

“What? Crying? I grew up with three sisters. I am totally used to it.”

“I should have watched where I was going.” She’d been concentrating on avoiding Nico’s smile instead of looking for dangerous, fallen Christmas decorations.

“I’m selfishly glad you didn’t.” He pulled back slightly and smiled down at her. “This has been a memorable first date.”

“I’m only crying because I took Percocet,” she sputtered. “Pain medication makes me emotional.”

“Well, then,” he murmured, folding her back into his arms. “Weep away.”

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE WOKE UP next to the dog. He was a comfortable and warm weight stretched against her side, but he snored. Not that the noise had bothered her. It was after eight o’clock and she was due at work in an hour. She’d need every minute to get ready.

“Good morning, Al.”

His tail thumped once and he wriggled closer, his eyes closed. Grace patted his rump and eased herself to a sitting position. Her foot throbbed, but not as painfully as last night. She’d managed to get into her nightgown without Nico’s help—Patsy had selected her only flannel gown instead of one of her many cute pajama sets.

After her weepy breakdown, he’d offered to help her out of her clothes to make her laugh. She’d refused, making him laugh. He’d fixed her a cup of herbal tea and delivered it, with an assortment of his mother’s cookies, to the nightstand while she was in the bathroom washing the tears from her face.

She would never, ever take Percocet in a man’s presence again. Not unless the man was her husband and she had just given birth to triplets.

She managed to climb out of bed and brush her teeth with the help of her crutches before she heard the knock on the door.

“Come on in.” She was resigned to the fact that he would see her dressed like a ninety-year-old woman. He may as well see what she’d be wearing when she was ninety.

He opened the door and peered in. “Hey. How are you doing?”

“Okay.” She sat on the bed and wished she could crawl back in next to Al, who was pretending to be asleep. Nico looked wide-awake, cheerful and heart-stoppingly handsome. The man looked ready to flip a thousand pancakes.

“Did you sleep?”

“Al and I both were practically comatose.” She wished she’d put on makeup. Patsy had emptied the entire contents of her bathroom drawer into a gallon ziplock bag, so she had no excuse for not putting on lipstick and eyeliner, for heaven’s sake.

“You look a lot better than you did last night.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “You’re not as pale. How’s the pain?”

“Not bad at all,” she fibbed.

“Can you walk?”

“With the crutches.”

He looked over at her bed. “Al! Time to go out!”

The Labrador didn’t budge.

“I know he’s alive.” Grace laughed. “He wagged his tail for me a few minutes ago.”

“He’s faking it. He hates snow.” Nico looked at Grace. “Want some coffee before I haul him out of here?”

“Yes. Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll bring it to you. Cream, no sugar, right?”

“How did you know that?”

“The executive chef at The View knows everything,” he informed her. “Stay right where you are. I haven’t brought a woman coffee in bed for days.”

“Very funny,” she said to his back as he left the bedroom. Or maybe he wasn’t joking. According to the tabloids, Nico’s social circle had once included the Kardashians and Sports Illustrated models. She hadn’t heard of him dating anyone in Lake Placid, but then again, there were plenty of beautiful women on the ski slopes and at the Olympic park. She wondered if any of them wore light blue flannel dotted with pink roses.

“Woof.”

She heard the child’s voice the same time Al did.

“Woof, woof!” Al finally raised his big head and turned brown eyes in her direction.

“Hey, Al! Wanna go for a ride?”

“Woof woof woof!” came the answer, just as a tall, thin boy ran into the room.

“Hey, Al, what are—”

The boy skidded to a stop, turning a pair of dark eyes toward Grace. He had the same head of thick dark waves as Nico, the same angular features and easy smile. He was dressed in a warm jacket and knitted cap, and his gloved hands held a bright blue leash.

“Whoa,” he said, sounding exactly like his uncle. Grace assumed this child had to be Nico’s nephew, the one who took his dog for walks and lived nearby. “Uncle Nico has company!” the boy called over his shoulder before returning to Grace.

“Hi,” he said.

The dog suddenly came to life and let out another happy bark before easing himself off the bed to greet his friend.

“Hi. I’m Grace,” she said, wishing she was dressed but glad she wore flannel at the very least. The boy’s mother stepped into the room and stopped as soon as she saw Grace.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she managed to say. She was tall, with short dark brown hair and a handsome, angular face. Dressed in jeans and a puffy red vest with matching sweater, she looked as ready to take on winter as her son. “I didn’t know Nico had company.”

“I’m Grace Clarke.” She held out her hand and attempted to get to her feet, but Nico’s sister intervened.

“Marie O’Rourke. And this is Brian, my son. You’re hurt.” She put out a hand to stop Grace from moving. “Stay where you are.” Her gaze darted to Grace’s nightgown, then to her booted foot and on to the rumpled bed. “What happened?”

Nico came to the rescue. He stepped into the room and handed Grace a mug of coffee. “Grace works at the lodge. She slipped in the kitchen last night and I brought her home.”

“Does it hurt?” Brian asked.

“Yes. But not as much as it did last night,” Grace said. “And Al kept me company.”

The dog leaned against Brian and licked his hand.

“I hung your clothes in the closet,” Nico said, jerking a thumb to one of the wide doors opposite the windows.

“Thanks, Nico. And thanks for the coffee.”

“Are you up to go in to work or do you want to hang out here for a few hours?”

“It’s Secret Santa day,” she reminded him. “Staff brunch at 10:00 a.m., remember?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. We drew names?”

Maria turned to him. “Isn’t that why you asked Cathy to make you a—”

He put his hand over her mouth. “Secret Santa, big sister. They take these things seriously at the lodge.” Nico turned to his nephew. “Come on, let’s give Grace some privacy.” He ushered the dog, his sister and his nephew out of the room and shut the door behind them.

“As soon as they leave I’ll make you a frittata,” he whispered. “With a crunchy potato layer that will make you weep with joy.”

She thought of the calories. Her mouth watered. Her foot throbbed.

Her heart melted.

CHAPTER FIVE

“YOU’VE GOT IT BAD, little brother.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re not here.” Nico didn’t bother to argue. Once Marie decided something, the sun would have to fall out of the sky to change her mind. How her mild-mannered husband stayed sane was a mystery to the entire family. Ignoring the cold, he leaned against the back door’s frame and waited for his sister to continue, as he knew she would.

“She’s beautiful. And she spent the night.”

“She slept with Al, not me.”

“So you say.” She eyed him speculatively. “Wait till Mom hears about this. She’ll think Christmas came early.”

“Mom doesn’t have to know anything.”

“What? Are you kidding? Brian’s going over there to decorate cookies again this afternoon. You think he’s not going to tell his grandma that Uncle Nico had a friend over? A pretty female friend with a boot on her foot, just like the one that Elizabeth in Mrs. Rayak’s class had last year when she fell off the ski lift?”

“I could pay him. What’s the going rate for keeping his mouth shut?”

Marie shrugged. “He’s not motivated by money. Unfortunately. I offered him five dollars not to tell his father that I said three very bad words when that guy backed into me last week.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“Oh, his insurance company will pay for it. There was a witness.”

“I meant with Brian.” Nico liked the kid. For a nine-year-old, he pretty much had it together. He managed to tiptoe through the minefield of having an older sister and a younger one quite well. His ability to stay calm and detached in the midst of female drama made him more like his father than the Vitelli side of his family.

“He told me he had heard worse at school and to be cool.”

“You are cool.”

“I am,” Marie said. “I’m forty-two and I’m definitely cool. Now, let’s talk about you.”

“I’m going to ask her to dinner Thursday.”

“That’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know.”

“That’s big.”

“I’m aware of that. I hope the family doesn’t scare her off.”

“Nico, we’ll be on our best behavior.” She frowned. “I mean, we’ll do our best. Maybe ‘best behavior’ is a little optimistic. But for you to bring a woman to Christmas Eve? This is really big. How long have you known her?”

“Since I started work here. I see her almost every day at the lodge.” And I’ve been half in love with her since the first minute I saw her.

Nico thought it wise not to say that aloud.

“She’s why you wouldn’t let us fix you up. How long have you been, uh, dating her?”

“I’ve been, uh, dating her since last night.” He enjoyed the look of surprise on his sister’s face. “I told you, she fell in the kitchen at work and hurt her ankle. I brought her home to help her out. To take care of her.”

“And now we’re back where we started,” his sister said. “You’ve got it bad.”

“I do,” Nico admitted. “But it’s not mutual. Yet.”

“It will be,” Marie assured him, giving him a quick hug. “Just be your charming self. And ply her with chocolate. Women like that.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”

“You’ve never failed at anything you set out to do.” She frowned. “Except when you tried out for football. That was pretty much a disaster.”

“I’ve put on some muscle since then.” But he would never be able to throw a ball fifty yards and actually hit a target.

“Don’t be too charming,” Marie warned. “That California stuff was ridiculous.” She gave him another hug. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me, too.” He waved them off, watched Al lift his leg on his favorite holly bush and then turned back to the house.

He would romance Grace with food and attention. She was a very private person, but she’d let down her guard a little last night.

And she’d smiled at him when he’d brought her coffee.

That was a promising start to the day.