Christmas Wish Come True: All I Want For Christmas / Dreaming of a White Wedding / Christmas Every Day. Gina Rochelle
well – Isabella’s embarrassment squelched the momentary rush she got from hearing it. Feeling like the biggest klutz on earth, she attempted to push herself to her feet.
“Oh!” she cried out, falling back and grasping her right wrist with her left hand.
Jordan cursed. “What is it?” He gently inspected her painful limb, causing her to wince. “Come on,” he said, putting his arms around her waist and lifting her to her feet. He helped her to his truck and opened the door for her. She seated herself, turning away as he got into the driver’s side. Without a word, Jordan drove down the road, toward town.
“Where are you going?” Isabella asked sharply.
“To get your wrist checked out,” Jordan replied.
“I don’t need a doctor!” She stared at his profile in the muted darkness as he continued to look straight ahead. “Really, Jordan, this is completely unnecessary.” Though her wrist throbbed, her pride hurt worse. “I’ll be fine. Please, turn around!”
Jordan glanced at her, his voice serious. “You’re staying on my property. I’m responsible for your safety and comfort. You’re injured, Isabella. I’m not taking you home until you’re seen by a doctor.”
Isabella was suddenly too tired to argue. “Yes, you’re definitely responsible,” she managed to whisper as she laid her head back against the soft leather seat and closed her eyes.
She wondered what Jordan would think if he knew what she’d been fantasizing about before taking a tumble in the snow – and was grateful the darkness in the truck hid the fiery heat in her cheeks. As they pulled up to the emergency room, Isabella grudgingly allowed Jordan to assist her inside, secretly pleased by the envious looks of some nurses. It did her self-esteem good – something she wasn’t accustomed to, since Phillip.
Nearly two hours later, Jordan and Isabella returned home. Emily pushed Isabella onto the couch and clucked over her, then headed for the kitchen to make some herbal tea. Jordan sat next to her, his eyes trained on the splint around her arm. Emily returned with the tea, then fluffed the pillows around her. Exasperated, Isabella addressed them both.
“Really, I’m all right. It’s just a slight sprain. I’ll be good as new in a few days.”
“Thank goodness it wasn’t worse,” Emily agreed. “You need rest. Drink your tea while I run a warm bath for you.”
She exited the room again and Jordan spoke for the first time since he and Isabella had left the ER.
“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising her.
“For what?”
Jordan shoved his fingers through his dark hair. “For laying a guilt trip on you, asking you to stay here until Christmas,” he said.
“Don’t apologize, Jordan,” she insisted. “I want to be here – for Tyler.”
His eyes pierced hers. “I shouldn’t have asked you to help me with my nephew.”
Emily returned and shuffled Isabella to her bath before she could respond to Jordan’s statement. As she soaked in the huge bathtub just across from Jordan’s bedroom, she played his words again in her head. What had brought this on? she wondered. She fell and suffered a minor injury. She felt like an idiot, so why was Jordan apologizing to her?
Then she remembered.
She was upset over his insistence that she see a doctor, and she inferred that he was responsible for her injury. If only he knew what she’d really meant. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Yes, Jordan was responsible for her tripping on that stupid log. But not in the way he thought.
She looked around, noting that Emily had placed a towel and her robe on a chair just a few feet away. She absently tried to push herself to a standing position, then cried out in pain as her wrist gave out on her. She heard the door opening and looked up, meeting Jordan’s stare. She watched his concern turn to relief, then fire. His gaze traveled down, lingering on her breasts – bare, except for the bubbles clinging to them. Her skin sparked with electricity, and she made no attempt to cover herself.
As Jordan dragged his eyes back to her face, Isabella smiled faintly. “Are you going to help me out, or not?”
He shouldn’t have responded so quickly – but he’d heard Isabella’s shriek, and his instincts took over. Now, he wished he’d hesitated –
Or maybe not.
He froze, staring at her, naked in the tub. Her lovely breasts were on full display – he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Isabella was beautiful, desirable. Wet. He realized she wasn’t hiding herself. She just watched him, waiting.
Embarrassed by his unreserved appraisal, Jordan turned to retrieve the towel on the chair.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his back to her. “I didn’t stop to think.”
“Jordan,” Isabella whispered. “You’ve apologized enough for one night. Please, just bring me the towel.”
As he moved toward her, Isabella managed to put her feet underneath her and use her left arm to push herself to a standing position. This time, Jordan averted his eyes as she wrapped herself in the towel. He held out his hand, and Isabella took it, stepping carefully from the bathtub.
“Thank you,” she said, her soft voice drawing his eyes to hers.
Mere inches separated their bodies as they stood there, hands clasped. Isabella shivered and Jordan cursed, frustrated. He pulled her to him with a force that elicited a soft gasp from her. His hands slid down her backside and he claimed her lips. She pressed her body against him as he grasped her hair, gently tugging her head back, kissing the moisture from her throat.
Isabella moaned, seeking his lips with hers, taking her hands from her towel and winding them around his neck. She whimpered against his mouth, in obvious pain. Immediately, Jordan stopped. He pulled away and Isabella’s cover fell to the floor.
Their eyes dropped to the fuzzy fabric bunched at her feet. Then Jordan’s gaze moved up her legs, devouring every inch of her. Taking her injured wrist into consideration, he picked up the towel, gently drying her legs first. He moved the towel up, across her pelvis, her stomach. Then, he stood straight and slowly brushed it over her breasts. He finished the slow seduction, pulling the towel around her again, then lifting her chin with his fingertip.
“Tyler’s asleep and Emily’s gone home.” He drew Isabella’s gaze to his. “And I want you in my bed tonight.”
***
Isabella allowed Jordan to lead her from the bathroom, across the hall, to his bedroom. She’d never been there, had never given in to her curiosity when she was alone in the house. A simple lamp on the bedside table illuminated the room, and Isabella swept her gaze around, taking in the tasteful masculine furniture, and the huge king-sized bed a few feet from them. There was an impressive stone fireplace in the wall directly in front of the bed, and a large picture window to the right, which boasted a breathtaking view of the Rocky Mountain skyline. Isabella was quiet, suddenly hesitant.
“Are you all right?” Jordan’s sexy voice, like warm honey, was in her ear as he stood behind her.
“Yes,” Isabella replied. She closed her eyes as his hands moved up her waist and cupped her breasts. His lips left a hot trail along the side of her neck, to her shoulder, while he pulled the towel to the floor. She leaned back against him, taking his left hand and moving it over her abdomen, then down. Her breath caught when his fingers slid between her legs, massaging her, driving her into a sweet frenzy of desire.
“Jordan,” she whispered, turning and taking his mouth, drinking in his kiss while his hands touched, explored her. Isabella impatiently unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his muscular shoulders, tingling as he moved his