Christmas at Bravo Ridge. Christine Rimmer
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In spite of that no, Corrie was kissing him back.
She was acting as if no was the last thing she was thinking.
He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe her kiss and her curvy body moving against him, wanted to forget that a few moments ago she had told him to stop.
But in the end, he couldn’t forget it. It was only right to make sure.
Yeah, he wanted her. Badly. But he knew that she had to admit she wanted him, too.
Somehow he made himself break the hungry kiss. “No?” he dared her. “Did you say no?”
She called him a very bad word, fisted her fingers into his hair and tried to yank his mouth down on hers again.
He winced as she pulled his hair, but he didn’t give in. “Answer the question, Corrie.”
She growled low in her throat and gave another yank. This time he let her pull him close. “Shut up,” she said against his lips, and kissed him again.
Dear Reader,
It’s that time of year again. The season of miracles, of light and joy. Of hope. And of family togetherness.
This Christmas, hardworking single mom Corrine Lonnigan is getting all of the above in the person of her former lover and now best friend, the father of her child, Matt Bravo.
Matt and Corrine had some rough times way back when. But they made it through. Now they’re both leading contented, productive lives. They share the care of their beautiful five-year-old daughter. Matt has a girlfriend and Corrine has said yes to a wonderful man.
Everything’s perfect. Until that fateful night in early November, a night that changes everything…
Suddenly the comfortable, easy life Corrine has enjoyed is no more. It’s a Christmas of change, where risks will be taken and best friends become lovers all over again, a Christmas of second chances. This time around, Corrine swears she won’t make the same mistakes again. But love has a way of challenging even the best-laid plans…
Happy holidays, everyone!
Yours always,
Christine Rimmer
Christmas At Bravo Ridge
By
Christine Rimmer
About the Author
CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a salesclerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves, who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at www.christinerimmer.com.
For my mother, whose loving spirit uplifts and inspires.
Merry Christmas, Mom.
Chapter One
The doorbell rang at nine o’clock. Corrine knew it would be Matt, bringing Kira home from her regular weekend visit with him. He was right on time, as always.
“Come on in,” Corrine called.
She heard his key turn in the lock. The front door opened and shut with a soft click. And then silence, except for the creak of a loose floorboard under his feet. The lack of happy chatter, of “Mommy, we’re home!” told her that Kira must be asleep.
Matt stuck his head around the wall that marked off the entry, his straight brows drawing briefly together at the sight of Corrine on the couch, knees drawn up under her chin, ten half-full wine bottles arrayed on the coffee table in front of her. “She’s conked out,” he whispered.
Their daughter was draped over his shoulder, her legs, in her favorite pair of pink footed pajamas, dangling loose. At Matt’s whisper, Kira lifted her blond head, yawned hugely and then turned her face the other way, nuzzling against his neck with a contented little sigh.
“Carry her on up?” Corrine mouthed the words, gesturing at the stairway behind him.
Matt turned and went up. Corrine watched him go. Kira’s little feet swayed gently with each step. Once he disappeared from sight, she settled her chin on her knees again and stared at the mess she really should start clearing up.
She was still sitting there, in the same position, when Matt came back down the stairs a few minutes later. He went straight to the fireplace and turned his back to the flames.
“Cold out there?” She gave him a lazy smile.
“Oh, yeah.” It was supposed to get below freezing that night, rare for San Antonio in early November.
“Kira wake up when you put her to bed?”
“She didn’t even open her eyes.”
“Busy weekend?”
“The usual. Lessons on Saturday.” Kira took tap and ballet, karate and modern dance. She went to kindergarten and day care at the best Montessori school in SA. These were just a few of the many benefits that came from having a rich, hardworking daddy and a mom who ran a successful business of her own. “We went to a movie Saturday night,” he added. “Today, I took her out to the ranch.” Bravo Ridge, his family’s ranch, was a short ride north of SA, on the southwestern edge of the Hill Country.
Corrine lowered her knees to the side and tucked them in close. “Your mom still at the ranch?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“How was she?”
He shrugged. “She seemed okay, but you know how she is, always trying to put the best face on things.”
Corrine let out a small sigh of understanding. “So true…”
And then he did what she’d been waiting for him to do. He gestured at all those bottles on the coffee table. “And what the hell, Corrie? Pastor Bob know about this?” His tone was teasing, but she didn’t miss the underlying note of disapproval.
She resisted the urge to say something snippy and settled for simply putting him in his place. “I’m not drunk, not even buzzed—and if I was, it’s not like I’m driving anywhere. And don’t you start picking on Bob. Bob’s the best of the best. I’m lucky to have found him.”
He tried to look innocent. “I wasn’t picking on Bob.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Uh-huh.”
He put up both hands, a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll never say another damn word about Bob.”
“Bob