A Savannah Christmas Wish. Nan Dixon

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      “Just like you.” He handed them to her.

      She hooked her fingers into the straps. “I sparkle?”

      “Yes.” He pointed to her shoes. “You need to wear them.”

      She wrinkled her nose. “My feet hurt.”

      He tugged her to the elevator. “Before we head out to the street, you need to put them on.”

      She scowled. “Okay.”

      He stopped at the kitchen door and knelt at her feet. “Shoes.”

      “My prince,” she giggled. She put her hand on top of Daniel’s head and slipped her feet into her shoes. “Ouch.”

      “Toughen up, Fitzgerald.” He guided her outside into her gardens.

      She inhaled deeply. “I love the smell.”

      “It smells like you,” he said.

      Twirling again, she tipped her head back. “I love my gardens.”

      She was dizzy by the time he took her arm. “Time to get you to bed.”

      “Oh, promises, promises.”

      The arm he’d slipped around her waist tightened. “Come on.”

      Why couldn’t he be nice like this all the time?

      Her heels clacked on the sidewalk. “It’s quiet.”

      “It’s almost one thirty.”

      She leaned into his chest and inhaled. She’d know his woody scent in the dark. “I didn’t think Savannah slept.”

      His laugh rumbled under her cheek. “I think that’s New York.”

      She hummed “New York, New York” as they walked another block. They cut through Columbia Square. She stumbled on the uneven pavement, pain zinging through her toes.

      His fingers tightened around her waist.

      She had to get these shoes off—now. She bent down.

      He pulled her up. “You can’t walk barefoot.”

      She stamped her foot. “Ow, ow, ow.”

      She kicked the heels off and hopped to the fountain, stepping over the edge.

      “What are you doing?” He glared, pointing at her shoes.

      “Cooling my feet.” She kicked in the water and pointed at him. “Mamma said if we frowned, our faces would freeze like that.”

      “Right.” He reached for her. “Out of there.”

      She grabbed his hand with both of hers, but slipped backward.

      Daniel stumbled forward under her weight. His shin smacked the fountain’s brick edge.

      She let go of him and grabbed the ledge.

      His body kept moving. He did a shuffle step a dancer would be proud to have in their repertoire, boogying too close to the fountain wall.

      He was going to face-plant into the fountain.

      She reached for him.

      He rolled, his feet splashing into the water. Slumping on the fountain’s edge, he stared at his shoes.

      “Oh, gracious.” Her hand covered her mouth.

      Daniel cursed.

      “I...I didn’t mean to pull you in with your shoes on.” She giggled.

      “Damn it, Bess.” He stood, his lips set in a solid grim line.

      “Daniel.” She backed up but didn’t move fast enough.

      The world spun, and he threw her over his shoulder.

      Her breath whooshed out. “Hey!”

      “You’re going home.” He crouched and swept up her shoes.

      “Put me down.” She wiggled and squirmed. When he didn’t stop walking, she pounded his back.

      “Cut it out.”

      Her stomach gurgled. “I don’t want to be sick.”

      He swore again, but stopped. Sliding her body over his shoulder, he cradled her against his chest. “When will you think before you act?”

      “When you learn to lighten up.” There wasn’t any heat behind her words.

      He stared down at her. “I’m an adult.”

      She smiled. “The water felt wonderful.”

      He sighed. His shoes made squishing sounds as he carried her.

      “I’m sorry you got wet.”

      He grunted.

      She looked at his chin. It was such a nice chin. And his lips were full and firm. He probably kissed even better than he had ten years ago. She touched his dimple. “I’m sorry.”

      “What are you doing, Fitzgerald?” His voice was deeper than normal.

      “Apologizing.” She sighed.

      He lifted her higher and his hand pressed against her breast. “Sorry.”

      “S’okay.” She kicked her feet. Had a guy ever carried her anywhere? She burrowed in closer. “Am I too heavy?”

      He grunted again.

      She leaned her head back to look at the Spanish moss in the trees. “I think Savannah wouldn’t be Savannah without the moss. And the flowers.”

      “Savannah wouldn’t be Savannah without the architecture.”

      “Spoken like a man who builds things.”

      He juggled her body and opened the door. As he climbed the stairs, his breath came out in pants. He set her down in front of her door. “You had to pick the third floor.”

      She waited for him to open the door. And waited.

      “Key?” he asked.

      She blinked. “My keys are at Abby’s.”

      Daniel banged his head against the door.

      “Don’t.” She grabbed his shoulders. She’d touched him more tonight than she had in the last ten years.

      “Wait.” He dug his keys out of his pocket.

      “You label СКАЧАТЬ