Seeing Stars: A Loveswept Classic Romance by Fran Baker Page B

tell you the truth, I’m pretty lucky myself.”
    “I love you.”
    “I love you too.”
    Only after they hung up did Dovie realize that she’d never told Arie that Nick was blind.
    “Merry Christmas,” Nick said when Dovie opened the door half an hour later. It might have been a trick of the moonlight, but his deep blue eyes seemed to hold a mischievous sparkle.
    “Merry Christmas,” she answered, smiling a small, nervous smile as soon as she saw he was wearing a black cashmere topcoat that had obviously been tailored to accommodate his broad shoulders.
    The blood leaped wildly to her face when he held a sprig of mistletoe over her head and leaned down to kiss her. He simply touched his mouth to hers, but even that brief contact had her brain short-circuiting.
    “Do you want to try for Happy New Year?” Nick asked teasingly.
    “Happy New Year,” she echoed softly.
    At that, his tongue breached her lips to flirt withthe tip of hers, and Dovie could feel the titillating caress all the way down to her toes.
    “What next?” he asked.
    “Groundhog Day?” she offered.
    Laughter bubbled between their lips as he tossed the sprig of mistletoe over his shoulder and opened both his arms and topcoat to give her a brief glimpse of a black tuxedo that, combined with a snowy wing-collared shirt, gleaming onyx studs, and a silk bow tie and cummerbund, made him look like a walking ad for
Gentlemen’s Quarterly.
“What the hell, Happy Groundhog Day!”
    A symphony of rustling silk and rapid breathing, Dovie lost herself in warm cashmere and hot-blooded male. Nick’s tongue took its natural course, making exquisite love to her mouth, while his hands massaged her bare back with equally sure strokes. Strangling in delight, she molded her hips to the source of his wonderful heat and answered his message with trembling lips.
    “If that’s Groundhog Day,” she whispered when they finally drew apart, “I can hardly wait for the Fourth of July.”
    “Fireworks,” Nick promised, pulling away from her reluctantly. “Now, go get your coat and car keys before I turn into a Roman candle right in front of your big brown eyes.”
    Dovie handed him her spangly new sweater with a stab of apprehension. Maybe she’d mistaken flashy for formal! She stood with her back to him,scarcely able to breathe, while he slipped it over her shoulders.
    “Sequins?” He ran his hands down her arms, fingering the small flat disks as intently as if he were reading Braille.
    “Yes,” she admitted miserably, wishing now she’d done the sensible thing and worn the black wool crepe.
    He toyed with her sequin-encrusted cuff, trying to complete his mental picture. “What color?”
    Thinking she might as well get this over with, Dovie repeated the description she’d given Arie a little earlier. “Fire-engine red.”
    Everything clicked with perfect clarity in his mind’s eye. Laughing triumphantly, Nick touched his lips to the side of her neck. “I love it!”
    “Really?”
She’d been so certain that he would hate it, his enthusiasm caught her completely off-guard.
    “Really.” He heard the relief in her voice and realized just how much she valued his opinion. “It’s beautiful. And besides”—his smile expanded on his words—“where else am I going to find a woman who makes me see red?”
    “Oh, you …” Spinning around, she punched him lightly on the arm. But her merriment filled the entryway as surely as it filled the long-empty hollows of his heart.
    “Where’s your coat?”
    “I’m wearing it.”
    “That’s a sweater, not a coat,” Nick argued. “And it’s only fifteen degrees above zero outside.”
    “So I’ll think warm,” Dovie said dismissively.
    He remembered the way he’d found her in the river, wearing nothing but her bra and shirt, and the truth hit him with the force of a blow.
    She didn’t have a coat.
    Instead of pressing the issue—or embarrassing her by offering her his coat—Nick simply put his arm