The Spirits of Christmas (7 page)

“Whoa, whoa.” Zane put a hand up in laughing protest. “I haven’t
slept in two days, love. You’re making me dizzy. What do you think Rose is, if
she’s not a ghost?”

“I think…” Akira paused, before saying, somewhat primly, “I
think the technical term might be angel.”

Zane opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Then Zane put his
hands on either side of Akira’s face, cupping her cheeks, and bent his head to
hers, taking her lips in a strong, searching kiss. “That felt real,” he said
when he finally lifted his head.

She laughed up at him, unlocking her hands from behind his
neck. “Oh, I’m real.”

“And you just said that you think Rose is an angel?”

She nodded, a little uncertainly, searching his expression
for any sign of doubt or disbelief or a dawning awareness that she was insane. But
none of those were there.

He nodded. And then with a raised eyebrow, said, “You know,
it’s been a long couple of days. You think Henry would be up for red meat for
dinner tonight?”

Akira put a hand across her belly. “I think he might like
that.”

“How about we go home, spend the day in bed, and finish it
off with steak on the grill?”

Akira put a hand on his shirt front, one finger playing with
a button. “Did you ever finish the wedding invitations?”

A pained looked crossed his face. “Ah…about that…”

“I’ve had plenty of sleep,” she interrupted him. “So how
about we go home, you sleep, I address invitations, and then when you’ve had
enough sleep, we barbecue. And then we spend the rest of the weekend in bed?”

Zane grinned at her. “Woman after my own heart,” he
whispered as he bent his head to kiss her.

Man who holds mine, she thought, as she kissed him back.