Playing Favorites

Because of this, although I enjoyed the beauty of the Christmas season, and the parties, and spirit of giving, these past three years had felt a bit hollow to me. Two years ago, I spent Christmas with Amber and her family. Last year, Eve had adopted me. This year? Well, Martin would never know just how much his invitation meant to me.

His sister Jennifer lived with her family in a beautiful older home down near White Rock Lake and, according to Martin, she was absolutely thrilled that he was bringing a friend. "The more, the merrier..." or something like that.

We arrived just after five o'clock on Christmas Eve, and it didn't take long for me to feel right at home. Olivia, Madison and Chloe, Martin's infamous nieces, immediately kidnapped their uncle, and we could hear lots of whispering and giggling in the living room as Jennifer and I cracked open the bottle of wine that I had brought with me.

"So, Lindsay," she began, settling down into a stool next to the kitchen island. "I can't remember the last time Martin has brought someone with him to meet the family..."

I felt color rise in my cheeks. "Oh, this is not like that. I mean, we're not dating, so this is not a 'meet-the-family' type thing..." I babbled.

"Really..." she drew her brows together thoughtfully. "So, friends then? With no intention to go any further than that?"

My heart was inexplicably pounding. "I - well, I just don't think I'm his type..."

"Hmmm..." she murmured. "Well Martin is an idiot then. Because I've only just met you, and I think you're lovely..." Taking another sip from her glass, she added, "And you have impeccable taste in wine..."

I laughed, "An essential quality!"

"Yes, absolutely!"

By the time her husband Davis had returned from picking up a late-arriving Christmas gift from Fed Ex, Jennifer and I were on glass number two, sampling the cheese and crackers, and giggling as much as the girls were.

At dinner, I had the honor of sitting between seven-year-old Olivia and Madison, who had just turned five. It had been years - literally, more than a decade - since I'd sat down to a meal with small children. Olivia was utterly fascinated by my manicure, which featured snowflakes on each nail, and a shining star on my ring finger. And since I was new to their home, Madison wanted me nearby so that she could let me know about EVERYTHING.

Davis tried to explain to her that she really didn't need to tell me that the butter was for my dinner roll, but I shook my head. "Oh, it's fine. Madison is a great teacher!" The child positively beamed at that, and my heart swelled. So freaking adorable!

And Martin? Well he appeared to be having the best time with Chloe, who at three years old, was still in need of some adult help from time to time. And although Jennifer was seated just on the other side of her youngest daughter, she seemed more than content to let Martin handle things.

After the main course, we all adjourned to the living room, where the girls were anxious for the evening's entertainment. Apparently, it was family tradition to reenact the story of Jesus' birth, and everyone acted - except Jennifer, who was the narrator (and the director.) This year Martin and I were to play Joseph and Mary, Davis was the innkeeper, Olivia represented the shepherds, and Madison and Chloe were the wise men. A swaddled American Girl doll played the role of Jesus.

It all seemed so idyllic. The roaring fireplace, beautifully decorated home, laughing children, and I wondered if I'd ever had a Christmas so stereotypically perfect. Nope. Never.

By nine, Davis and Jennifer were tucking the children into bed, and Martin and I were finishing up the dishes. It was the first time we had been alone for hours, and I had been craving it. With his sleeves rolled up and his hands sunk deep into the sudsy water, he looked the picture of domesticity, and I loved that he wasn't one of those guys who thought this was women's work.

We talked about the girls and speculated about how much they would love their Christmas gifts. We raved about the traditional Christmas Pudding that Jennifer had prepared, and I commented about how I was sure I'd gained ten pounds this evening alone.

Martin dried his hands on a towel and assured me that, ten pounds or no, I was still his favorite. My heart skipped a beat, or three, as he reached for my hand and dragged me towards the foyer. "Earlier this evening, Madison pointed out something that I had missed..."

"And what's that?" I asked, curious.

He stopped at the front door and pointed upwards. "Mistletoe."

"Ah..." Oh hell...my heart began to race, even as I fought to remain calm.

"Yeah..." he still had my hand in his, and he threaded his fingers through mine. "And then, a little while ago, Jen told me that you had this crazy-ass idea that you were not my type..."

Fucking Jennifer! I cried inwardly.

"Which would be laughable, if it wasn't so sad..." With his free hand, he brushed my hair back from my face, and tilted my chin towards him. His lips lightly brushed mine, and I instinctively swayed towards him. "I am so into you, Linds," he murmured, kissing me again.

I am pretty sure that most traditional kisses under the mistletoe last only seconds, and do not involve the seductive play of tongues or bodies pressed so close to each other that they seem almost one. But ours did.

When finally, we surfaced for air, Martin muttered roughly, "Jesus, Linds..." and he kissed me once more, fleeting this time.

I was clinging to him, my knees weak, my pulse pounding. "You are definitely my favorite..." I breathed.

"Hey!" came Davis' voice from the living room. "You kids done making out yet? Want to join us in here?"

A smile lit Martin's eyes, and he whispered to me, "I don't know...are we done making out yet?"

*****

How had this happened? How had we gone from zero to sixty in just seconds? How could I have so completely misread him?

Davis recruited Martin to help him haul in a few large packages from "Santa" that had been hidden in the garage, and while they were out of the room, Jennifer turned to me, her eyes sparkling. "I knew Martin had a thing for you..."

"How?" I wondered. "I have been hanging out with him for weeks and was sure he didn't..."

She smiled, "What can I say? I know my little brother... I have been watching him crush on girls since he was fifteen..."

I sighed. "He's different..."

Nodding, she agreed. "Yeah. He is. In a good way."

In the best way, I wanted to say. I had never met another man like him, and was sure I never would. And when he and Davis returned, I wanted to drag him down on the couch beside me and kiss the shit out of him, regardless of the audience.

Instead, I watched him move. Watched his broad shoulders shift, his muscles flex, and I itched to run my fingers over those same body parts. And each time our eyes met - and they met often - he would smile, and I would smile right back. I just couldn't help it.

Finally, with the manual labor out of the way, the guys polished off the milk and cookies that the girls had left for Santa, grabbed a few more beers from the garage fridge and came to sit with Jennifer and me. Stories from the past came tumbling forward, painting a different picture of Martin than what I'd envisioned. As they told it, he'd been a skinny science geek with braces, glasses and acne, whose only redeeming quality in the eyes of his peers, was his prowess on the ball field. That last bit I could believe, but the rest I had difficulty visualizing.

Martin nodded ruefully, "It's true Linds..."

Jennifer was busy pulling up the proof on her phone. Ah Facebook...the scourge of our time...

"Ohhh!" I cooed sympathetically, looking at what was apparently a picture from 10th grade. "You were so cute!" And he was, once you looked past the braces, bad haircut and zits. "I would totally have gone for you!"

Okay, that was a complete lie, but I wish I'd been the type of girl in high school that would have gone for the smart, decent guys. Maybe my life would have turned out differently. Instead, I had been getting busy with the under-achieving bad-boys, who did an excellent job of preparing me for my relationship with Khan.

Squeezing my hand gratefully, Martin shook his head, smiling, "I do not believe that for a second, but it was sweet of you to say..."

And then Jennifer wanted to know what I looked like in high school, so back to Facebook she went. "Oh my God, Lindsay. You were gorgeous!" And then she back-tracked, muttering under her breath, as she passed her phone around, "Although why should I be surprised at that, you're still gorgeous..."

I could feel my cheeks getting hot and immediately attempted to divert attention. "Ha! Says the blonde bombshell in the room..."

On cue, Davis slid his arm around Jennifer. "Yeah, no offense Lindsay, but my wife is way hotter than you are!"

"I know!" I exclaimed, as the two siblings both burst out laughing.

"All right, lover-boy!" Jennifer smiled, patting her husband on the cheek. "I think you've had enough to drink tonight. Let's get you to bed, because you know those kids will be up at 5:30..."

"5:30?" Martin asked incredulously, looking at his watch. Somehow, it was already past midnight.

Davis groaned. "Kids always get up early on Christmas morning... did you not know that?"

I immediately began collecting the wine glasses and beer bottles that littered the coffee table as Jennifer hauled her man to his feet. Martin stood to help me, "We've got this Jen. See you in the morning..." and he dropped a kiss on her cheek.

And then we were alone again. In the kitchen, we made short work of cleaning up and I told him how much I liked his family.

"They like you too... but I knew they would..." he slid one arm about my waist to draw me near.

Butterflies had taken up residence in my stomach, but I forced myself to meet his gaze as I smoothed one hand across his shoulder. "Why is that?"

His eyes were soft, and dark, and the corners crinkled up when he smiled at me. "Because I like you..." he explained, his embrace tightening enough to where it only made sense for me to slide my arms around his neck.

I was distracted. With my breasts pressed fully against his chest, and the soft curls of his hair tempting my fingers to explore, I was having a hard time maintaining the conversation. I raised an eyebrow, "And do they always like your friends?"

"Always..." he smiled again, "Although I only introduce them to the ones I REALLY like..."

Those eyes...that smile! He was killing me! "So..." I could hear the tremor in my voice, "What are you trying to say?"

He laughed at that. And instead of responding, just dipped his head and kissed me. Yes...God, yesssss! The taste of him...the smooth, fine texture of his lips, the hot, sexy play of his tongue...Christ! The man had technique, and moves... oh yes, he had moves. I am not sure how I ended up on the kitchen table, with my sweater on the floor and my legs wrapped around his hips, but I am pretty sure it was his moves. It couldn't possibly be my wantonness.

And then, suddenly, he pulled away. Completely. Taking a few steps backwards, until we weren't touching at all, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Hooo! Jeez, Linds... I am just not thinking clearly here..."

I was fine with a little muddled thinking, if it meant he came back to my arms, but I didn't say anything, just waited for him to explain.

He stooped down to pick up my sweater and began turning it right side out for me. "I mean, what if one of the kids got up to get a drink of water..."

I let go of the breath I'd been holding and nodded reluctantly, scooting off the edge of the table and onto my feet. "No sense scarring a five-year old," I agreed.

When I reached out to take my sweater from him, he brushed my hand aside and stepped close to slide it over my head. And as I slipped my arms into the sleeves, and tugged it over my abdomen, he rescued the length of hair trapped inside, combing it with his fingers as he smoothed it down my back.

"You're a beautiful person, Lindsay." His voice was rough as he continued, "That's how I knew they'd like you." And with both hands on my face, he kissed me tenderly. Sweetly. And I melted...melted into him, and into that soft, not quite innocent kiss.

A short time later, Martin escorted me to the door of Olivia's bedroom. She was bunking with Madison so that I could have a room to myself. Earlier, while lustful thoughts consumed me, I had seriously considered trying to talk Martin into joining me in his niece's twin bed. But upon seeing her pristine pink and white room again, I realized it would have been desecrating the purity of the sweet girl's space.

And he knew it too. Not even stepping foot across the threshold, he kissed me briefly, chastely. "Merry Christmas Linds...

I didn't need to say anything. He knew. Knew I wanted him with me, next to me, inside me... but instead, folded me into his arms and hugged me tightly, murmuring softly in my ear. "Sleep well, sweetheart..."

And I did, eventually. Once I calmed my libido and soothed my aching heart, I was able to digest the fact that Martin liked me... and Martin wanted me... and I fell asleep with a smile on my lips and fanciful dreams in my head.

*****

Madison was the one who woke me, at the late hour of 7:20 am, shaking my shoulder. "Miss Lindsay, it's Christmas morning, you have to wake up!"

I groaned, never having been terribly good at mornings, and less so when I'd had alcohol the night before. "Is it?" I forced myself to be pleasant as I squeaked one eye open. "Well Merry Christmas then..."

With great effort, I hauled myself into a sitting position. It was then I noticed Martin lounging in the doorway, in plaid pajama pants, a T-shirt with an image of Santa on the front and sporting a pair of horn-rimmed eyeglasses that were so retro they were cool again. "Hey Linds..." he greeted, his voice deliciously low and rough. "How was your sleep?"

"Mmmm..." I stretched my arms out to the side. "It was good... very nice dreams..."

Martin raised an eyebrow, "Really?" but before he could delve further, Madison was all over it.

"What did you dream about?" She climbed up beside me on the bed. "Were you a princess?"

"I was indeed," I smiled at the precocious little girl, who had taken my hand.

"And did you meet a prince?"

Wow - our society continues to do an exceptional job of conditioning young girls, I thought. Not that my generation had it any better. I still dreamed of that handsome prince... "I did..."

"He probably looked like me," Martin interjected, puffing out his chest, and Madison started giggling.

I pretended to ponder, "Come to think of it, he did look a tiny bit like you..."

"...but he probably had a horse, and a castle," Madison chimed in.

"Oh, that goes without saying," I assured her. And then, changing the subject, I asked Madison whether it was REALLY necessary that I get up.

She proceeded to pull back my covers, "Yes. Mama says breakfast will be ready in just a little while."

And so, with a minimalist nod to personal hygiene, ten minutes later I was downstairs in my elf footie pajamas, much to the delight of the girls.

Jennifer, in all her wisdom, had prepared a breakfast casserole the day before so that she could just throw it in the oven and not have to cook. Davis was supervising the older girls as they set the table, and Martin was on coffee duty. I watched him pour a healthy dose of Bailey's into my cup before he handed it over. "Ooohhh, I like the way you make coffee..." I crooned, brushing his cheek with a kiss before stepping away to take a sip.

"Dad!" Olivia said in a very loud whisper, "I just saw Miss Lindsay kiss Uncle Martin!"

Davis laughed, "I think you're going to have to get used to it, honey..."

Madison piped up, "That's because he's her prince! Even if he doesn't have a horse and a castle..."

We all laughed at that, and Martin defended himself, "I do have a car and a house though - that's the modern-day horse and castle..."

"But it's not a very NEW car..." Olivia countered seriously. "And kind of a small house..."

All of this was true, but I looped my arm through my prince's and assured the girls that I didn't care. "But he's a nice person, and that's way more important to me than a silly old car or house, don't you think?"

Olivia was a hard nut to crack. Finally, she conceded, "I guess. Plus, he's fun to play with, so that's good too..."

"Yes..." I agreed, catching Martin's eye and squeezing his arm. He was very fun to play with...

Breakfast was a lively affair. I didn't usually talk much in the mornings, and the wonderful thing about being with chattering children was that not much was required of me. I smiled, and nodded occasionally, giving most of my attention to the food and the divine coffee.

When it was time for presents, Martin and I stopped in the kitchen for a java refill first, and I took the opportunity to adjust the temple of his glasses. "You look very 'sexy science teacher' in these..." I teased. "You should wear them more often..."

Color tinged his cheeks and he laughed, sliding one hand from my waist down to pat my behind, "But then I'd have to beat you off with a stick..."

"Yes, you would," I assured him, "But that might be fun!"

"Come on, y'all!" Olivia stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, a disapproving scowl on her face. I almost laughed but restrained myself just in time.

"Yes ma'am," Martin replied obediently, his hand finding mine. "Sorry to keep you waiting..."

*****

Christmas with the Reynolds was one to remember. I was grateful to Olivia for showing a little bit of attitude, because otherwise I would have thought the family too good to be true. Later in the day, when I was giving the girls manicures in the living room, I heard a stressed-out, exhausted Jennifer speak a little sharply to her husband, and that confirmed my opinion.

Strangely, instead of it making me feel uncomfortable, it restored my faith in them as a family. Because Davis didn't yell back or make her feel like shit. Instead, from the corner of my eye, I saw him put his arms around her from behind, and nuzzle her neck, murmuring something that made her smile, and then laugh.

That's what it was supposed to be like, right?

The girls never noticed the mini-drama in the background, too busy babbling away about what color I should do next. Chloe wanted to paint the nails of her new doll, but Olivia squashed that idea quickly, "No Chloe. Mama would be so mad if you did that!"

What a little mother hen she was! I couldn't help but smile at how she kept all of us - me included - corralled and doing just what we were supposed to. Martin made an appearance as I was finishing up Madison, and she got this devilish little gleam in her eyes. "Do Uncle Martin next!"

I laughed, and then all the girls clamored, "Yes! Uncle Martin! Yes, you have to!"

"No thanks..." he started backing away, but Olivia grabbed his hand before he could escape. "Yes! Miss Lindsay is really good at it..."

"Oh, I have no doubt..."

"One hand!" Madison bargained, but still he shook his head.

"One finger!" Olivia pleaded, giving him the best set of puppy dog eyes I've ever seen, and he caved.

"Okay, okay! One finger!" and he sat down on the ottoman in front of me.

"You sure about this?" I teased, taking his right hand in mine.

"Be gentle with me..."

I smiled at that, my eyes meeting his as I massaged his palm. "I am generally not known to be the gentle type..."

"Christ..." he muttered under his breath, not quietly enough to escape detection.

"Mom! Uncle Martin swore!" Olivia tattled.

For the children's benefit, Jennifer's voice was sufficiently chastising as it drifted to us from the kitchen, "Martin..."