Jason paced by the door. Nervous energy wound him so tight he was almost ready to explode.

It wasn't going to get here in time. He would look like a fool not giving her anything when she had obviously put a lot of thought and care into her gift. Why did he wait so long? Why didn't he have a back-up plan?

The truth? It was the perfect gift and he just couldn't see himself giving her anything else. So where the hell was the messenger with the package? The website had guaranteed overnight delivery, even less than twenty-four hours, but that deadline had passed. So, what was he supposed to do? The crux of the problem was that he still didn’t have a package in his hands. And if the package didn’t arrive, he would not have a present for Elizabeth. And that had potential to tailspin into a whole new block of misunderstanding.

Sonny, from his place at the kitchen table, glanced over at Jason. "Jason, you mind not pacing? You're wearing a hole into the carpet."

Jason looked up, seemingly unhearing. Standing by the large window, he checked for any vans approaching, any messenger boys on bikes. Something. Anything. But there was nothing. His hope began to dwindle.

"What's with you anyway?" Standing, Sonny took his coffee cup and refilled it. Going to the fridge for milk, he caught sight of the white and blue box he'd signed for earlier and had forgotten until then. "Oh, I almost forgot. A package came for you today. It's postmarked Italy. What, you don't like my cooking and decided to send away for some secret recipe?"

In two long strides, Jason was at his side, grabbing the box from Sonny's hands and staring down at it like it was manna from heaven. Talk about making him sweat!

"Something important?" Sonny inquired.

Jason nodded absently. He turned up the hall and took the stairs two at a time, then rushed to his room, closing the door tightly behind him. Taking a deep breath, he set the package on the bed, rummaging in a drawer for a knife of some sort cut away the tape.

His finger traced over the lettering on the outside: Murano Island, Italy.

Making a slit in the side, he carefully lifted the tape and Styrofoam wrap from the box, before gently lifting out Elizabeth's present. Perfect. It looked even better than the picture had suggested. And it was the most vibrant red he ever recalled seeing.

Doves. Beautiful, red, glass doves. He could have just gotten her a piece of red glass like the one in the story she'd told him, but it just didn't sit right with him. He thought it would mean something either way, but it needed to be more. At first he hadn't been sure if it was the right thing to do. After all, doves were practically biblical figures, symbolizing both purity and innocence, but then he thought about everything else they represented. Doves mate for life, they stick together through thick and thin and work hard together to protect their families. They're mercilessly loyal creatures, taking care of each other and their offspring. A dove has an aura of peace and love, a true symbol of devotion. He hoped she understood what he was trying to tell her without words.

Kneeling down in front of the bed, he pulled out a stash of ribbons and paper. This was the hard part. Jason was not good at this sort of thing. But it was for Elizabeth and he would do his best to make it turn out right. Lifting the doves carefully, he re-wrapped them in the thin Styrofoam sheet and then placed them over a strong layer of shining green paper. Taking a deep breath, he painstakingly went to work wrapping the present.

It took patience and time, but when he finished with the last bit of tape, the last curl of ribbon, the last paper bow, it looked--as he expected--not quite right. He'd seen Television shows on this sort of thing and the women demonstrating always made it look so easy.

He frowned.

Though nothing was out of place and all the lines were straight and properly taped, he couldn't help feeling a sort of earnestness, a heavy weight on his shoulder.

Insecurity crept up on him. What if she didn't like it? What if it just brought back bad memories? It was too late now. The present was wrapped and was going to stay that way until he gave it to her. Putting it away, he began the arduous task of getting ready for the party.

_______

Trisha and Lucky walked through the doors that led to the party and immediately Sonny walked over to greet them. Not one for subtly or even tact, Trisha squealed in delight and caught the man in a tight hug.

"Trisha, it's nice to see you again. You look very nice," he said, admiring her dress.

Not even a dead man could look at her and not admit that she looked hot.

"Why, thank you, Sonny." She smiled then hit Lucky in the gut. "This is my friend, Lucky Spencer. You know his father, Luke. Well, you boys have fun! I'm going to mingle and see if I can pick up some rich geriatric."

"Have fun!" Sonny turned to the younger man and smiled, showing off clean, white teeth.

"So, you're Spencer's boy. How's your old man doing?"

Lucky glared at Trisha for the briefest of seconds before he turned his attention to the infamous man. "He's fine, got a postcard from him and mom last week."

"Running from someone again?"

"Just themselves. They're traveling the world for fun this time."

Lucky took the time, while Sonny pondered that explanation, to look at the man standing in front of him. His father kept a picture of him somewhere at the club and Lucky had often stared at it with fear while Luke filled his mind with stories from their past. Sonny didn't look that much older physically, but his eyes were not the same. There was something just below the surface, a sort of consuming agony that dwelled there. It just didn't fit with the image he'd had in his mind. Sonny was every bit as charismatic as his reputation but the callous coldness he expected to find just wasn't there.

"Laura is a fine woman. It was probably the best thing Luke ever did. Marrying her, I mean."

“Yeah, sure.”

Sonny stopped his drink mid-way to his lips, catching sight of a lone boy snagging a champagne flute from one of the trays when a server walked by. Stalking his movements, he watched while the boy sat away from the rest of the crowd and sipped the drink in the corner.

"Listen, I'll talk to you later, Lucky," Sonny said absently, barely taking his attention away from the dark-haired boy.

"Yeah, sure thing." Truth be told, he was uncomfortable talking to the ex-mob boss. Though he hadn't been in the business for some years, his name still preceded him and it was a name to be feared. And even though he'd done nothing in their brief conversation to make Lucky think he was in danger, there was still some amount of trepidation on his part. Men like Sonny could snap at any second.

Setting down his own drink, Sonny walked toward the boy who looked oddly familiar; competing with people dancing while he made his way through the crowd.

Towering over the boy, he got an odd sense of déjà vu. "Hey, kid, why aren't you playing over there with all the other children?"

Not even bothering to look up, nor conceal the drink in his hand, the boy shrugged his shoulders with little effort. "Do I look like a whiney baby? I mean, look at all those little dweebs going to see Santa. Someone ought to tell them the guy's not real."

"Fair enough," Sonny countered, smirking.

Pulling up a chair, he sat down across from the boy and got his first real glimpse at him. What he saw shocked him. Dark hair slightly curled behind his ears, deep brown eyes and olive skin mirrored Sonny's own features. Sonny didn't look away. He kept his eyes trained on the boy's face.

"What kind of moron hires some dude to play Santa for a bunch of parentless bozo's anyway? Isn't that like giving them false hope? I mean, it's not like those rug-rats are going to see a happy Christmas this year," the kid went on, not feeling the slightest bit of unease while Sonny continued to stare at him.

"How old are you, kid?" he asked, when he finally realized the boy had stopped talking.

"Why, you gunna card me?" He smiled wryly, taking a long, deliberate sip of champagne.

Shaking his head, Sonny laughed. The kid had guts. He had to give him that. "You sure got a mouth on you."

Another smirk crossed its way onto the boy's face. "Yeah, Sister Mary-Thomas says I'll make a great politician with all my lies and cover-ups. So you goin’ to bust me?"

"Nah, but I am going to take this off of you." Reaching over, he took the champagne flute out of the boy’s hand.

The kid kicked his feet out and crossed his arms in an exaggerated manner. "Damn, man! You just had to go ruinin' all my fun."

"Sorry, had to do it," Sonny said to him, pointedly, and moved the glass onto a table just out of reach. "Now, are you going to tell me how old you are, or am I going to have to go ask--what was her name? Sister Mary-Thomas?"

"Shi- I mean, crap! That some sort of blackmail?" He eyed Sonny, skeptically.

"Figure it out, kid."

"Fine. Twelve." There was fire in his eyes, a silent challenge.

Raising an eyebrow, Sonny leaned back far in his chair and let out a low chuckle. "Awfully small for twelve. Try again."

"Jeez, Mister, can't put nothin’ past you. Fine, ten," he admitted, then added, "but I'll be eleven in a coupla' months."

"You got a name?"

Stretching out, he mimicked Sonny's pose. "Sure, everyone's got a name."

"Well, what is it?"

"Nic."

"Is that the truth?"

"Sure. Short for Dominic."

Sonny's eyes widened. It was impossible. It just couldn't be. But there was this hope; this one instant when Sonny let himself consider the possibility that this kid could be his son. And then it was gone.

Dominic sat up straight, fixing his posture so he looked taller and puffed out his chest like a boxer. "Don't believe me? Check my birth certificate, says right there Dominic Alejandro Martinez. That's the only good thing my Mom ever got from my father. She used to say a strong name is one of the most important things there is. Without a strong name, people don't respect you."

Sonny's chest tightened. "So...what happened to your parents, kid? I noticed you said used to." He held his breath. There could be something more to the kid than just a resemblance and a shared name with his dead son.

Letting his body relax, Nic took a deep breath. "Mom died ‘bout a year back and dad's been dead since I was born."

Sonny's heart felt tight in his chest. Though he hadn't realized it, he'd been holding his breath in anticipation of the kid's answer and now watching the sadness break in waves from the boy, he regretted pushing the question at all. "That's a tough break."

Nic nodded, his eyes darting to the young children still enthralled with Santa. "I guess some people got it a lot worse though. It's not so bad. The Sister's ain't too bad and I get away with a lotta shi- stuff. So what's your deal?"

"What do you mean?"

"You got kids? You know someone to boss around, other than a punk kid you come across at some lame party?" There was humor in his tone, a slight rapport beginning to take shape.

"No. No kids," he answered quietly. "I-I had a son once and a wife."

Nic's face hardened, his eyes narrowed. "What happened to them? You walk out on them or something?"

Sonny took in a long, shaky breath. "No. I... They died."

"Oh, sorry, Mister," Nic said in a soft, sincere voice.

"Yeah, me too."

Easing off the chair, the boy stood to his full height--which wasn't more than three-and-a-half feet.

"Well, I better go, Sister Margaret promised me I could stay up late if I actually looked like I was trying to fit in. See ya later...?"

"Sonny."

"See ya later, Sonny."

"Bye, Nic."

The resemblance was remarkable. Even the way his hair curled just slightly in the back when it was too long. Sonny remembered all the times Brenda told him he needed a haircut, but then changed her mind and told him she liked to run her fingers through his curls. There was just something about the boy that made Sonny want to do something--to connect with him in some way. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew he had to try.

_______

Elizabeth finally made it to the party, her hosed legs cold from exposure and her cheeks rosy. Settling her coat and scarf with the other party guests belongings, she took a step into the room. Looking over the party, it took her a moment to locate Jason.

She admired him from across the room. Her face hidden behind a large plastic Christmas tree she'd helped Father Max set up a few days before. It was obvious he was uncomfortable and unaccustomed to the constrictive tie around his neck. It was hard to suppress her smile while she watched him tug at the black knot and finally give up a moment later when it refused to loosen. His expression was a notch away from grim while he scanned the crowd. She wasn't certain what--or who--he was looking for, but only hoped that she was it.

His attention diverted, Jason barely felt the slight tug on his pant leg, it appeared, but a second later he was squatted down face-to-face with a curious four-year-old boy. Even from where she was, Elizabeth could see the fondness in the child's eyes as Jason leaned down and picked up the laces of his tiny shoe. With patience and a hint of a smile Jason listened to the nonsensical chatter while he tied the shoe with a perfect loop and then began on the next one. A fit of giggles erupted from the child while Jason entertained him with silly faces and tickled his tummy. With a light hug that made Jason's cheeks flame red, the boy scurried away. He looked more relaxed when he stood and Elizabeth felt a little guilty about watching him.

The party was in full swing. Decorations hung from the wooden rafters of the church basement, tinted in colors of silver, green, and red. A jolly fat man playing the roll of Santa collected presents by the armload and offered them to the excited younger children, while the older ones--who'd probably given up on the notion of St. Nick long ago--offered help to those not coordinated enough to remove the wrapping paper themselves.

Off to the corner one young boy of about nine, maybe ten, sat by himself watching the scene with morbid fascination. His head was turned and Elizabeth could only make out his profile, but there was something familiar about him, something she couldn't quite place. When he turned, she caught a brief glimpse of his face. Her breath caught in her throat.

The look in his eyes was akin to lamentable sadness. That's when everything clicked into place. The boy looked like the sketch she'd drawn, the one of Dominic. And his eyes were haunted, the same way Sonny's eyes tended to appear when he was thinking about his past. The resemblance was too surreal. Then, to complete the out-of-body experience, Sonny appeared and sat down with the boy.

The picture they presented could have been taken from a Norman Rockwell painting. It would be called “father scolding mischievous son” she thought, watching as Sonny took the liquor from the boy. The strongest urge to paint crept up on her.

Twisting around to get a better look at the pair, she barely saw Jason walking toward her. It wasn't until he was three-feet away, looking debonair, that she fully realized his presence. She'd thought he looked good from across the room, but up close was a whole other ball game. Old black and white movies flashed to mind. The kind where heroes waltzed in and saved the day with little effort, looking as cool as a cucumber when doing so, flooded her imagination. It was hard to swallow.

"J-Jason," she choked.

His smile was a little shy.

Elizabeth picked up one of the chocolate treats from the buffet table for a distraction. She nervously drew it to her mouth and nibbled.

Jason took the time to study her. She looked amazing in a simple black skirt and blouse with a sheer back over a tank top. He'd never seen her look so sexy. In fact, he'd never seen her in so little clothing in all the months he'd known her. It was going to be a long, torturous night. Especially, when he watched her tongue flick out and dab at the chocolate crumbs on her lips. Damn, he wanted to taste her kiss.

"I didn't think so many people would be here," Elizabeth said, avoiding eye contact while she watched nameless faces on the dance floor.

Jason reached into his coat pocket and produced the decadently wrapped present he'd spent the afternoon fussing over. He cleared his throat. Getting Elizabeth's attention, he offered her the green and red package.

Setting down a second chocolate tart, Elizabeth looked at him a little shocked.

"For me?"

Jason simply nodded and shifted his weight. His hands twisted in the inside of his suit jacket in anticipation. This was the moment of truth. She was either going to hate it and think he was insensitive for getting her such a present. Or she'd like it and thank him. Secretly, he hoped she would love the present. He almost couldn’t watch.

Though she'd never taken the time to unwrap a present carefully, she thought it important to now. Slowly, she took strip after strip of tape from the shiny paper, already having set the red bow on the table beside her purse. Peeling the layers of protective Styrofoam, Elizabeth finally uncovered two perfect glass doves.

Gently she cupped them in her hands, admiring the handiwork and the brilliant red glass. Right away she noticed the insignia of the artist from Italy.

He'd remembered.

She couldn't believe it. The story about her grandfather and the red glass, that she'd only been allowed to keep for a few minutes, were important enough to him to be remembered. That thought warmed her through. And even when she tried to deny them, tears clouded her vision.

"Jason, this is... How did you…? I can't believe you did this for me. I can't believe you even remembered. They’re perfect."

Elizabeth shook her head trying to take it all in. The fact that he had chosen doves had not escaped her notice either. Putting one hand on his forearm to brace herself she rose to her tip-toes and gave him a soft peck on his cheek.

Her lips just barely brushed his ear when she whispered, "thank you."

Jason's face was beet red when she pulled away. A smile curved his lips and she reciprocated with a low chuckle.

"Is there somewhere I can put them until after the party? I don't want them to get broken," she said softly.

Jason took her hands in his and took the doves one by one. The feel of rough skin against her smooth flesh bubbled up an overwhelming passion that flowed through her veins and poured into her stomach. It was unexpected, but not at all unwanted. In fact, when he pulled away she felt a sense of regret and emptiness.

"Don't take too long," she called after him.

He turned, looked her deliberately in the eye and smiled, slow and sexy.

___________

After the incident with Nic, Sonny was feeling off-center. Not a lot of things made sense. If he thought about it rationally, he knew there was no way the boy could be his son. His son was dead.

Still, there was something so comfortable and natural between the kid and himself. Trying to figure a few things out, Sonny headed over to the far end of the dance floor, where it was relatively dark. He'd poured himself some scotch. It was one of the rare times that he let himself have a drink anymore. Tonight, he needed it.

"Sonny Corinthos."

Sonny kept his eyes on the twirling guests on the dance floor. "Miss Harper."

Trisha’s grin was ripe and scandalous. "Hiding out at your own party?"

"Who's hiding?" he asked, meeting her eye.

"You," she said pointedly.

Sonny shrugged, considering it for a moment. "I just don't like to take the spotlight anymore. This night is to raise money, have a few drinks, a few laughs, that's all. People don't need me around to do that."

"I guess not," she said, picking up a flute of champagne from a passing tray. "Would you believe I lost my virginity to this song?"

Just having taken a sip of his own drink, Sonny sputtered some of the liquid and used his handkerchief to wipe off his chin and tie. Why was it that every time Trisha Harper was around, he was spitting on himself? Regaining his composure, he turned to her with disbelief in his eyes.

"You lost your virginity to Jingle Bells?"

"Mmm hmm," she purred seductively, saddling up to him like a cat in heat.

Trademark dimples formed in his cheeks. "I don't believe it."

Stepping back, she gave him an impish wink. "You're right. It was My Way, by Frank Sinatra—long story, trust me—but it was worth it to see that look on your face. So...what song did you lose it to?"

Blushing, only slightly, Sonny's dimpled grin lit up the room. "I can't remember."

"Oh, please. You're old, but you're not that old,” she said, waving him off.

Holding up his hands, he gave in. "Alright, alright. It was Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe, by Barry White. I know it sounds cliché but the song had just come out, so it was new to me."

"You're kidding me! That song came out in, like, 1974! That would make you around-"

"Fourteen," he finished for her. "I kid you not. That downbeat ain't no joke." He laughed.

"Well then... I just don't have a witty reply for that. Fourteen?! Really?" Then she laughed despite herself.

Sonny cleared his throat and took a deep breath, settling into the quiet. He'd never seen Trisha so mute before and it amused him. "Elizabeth is a really good dancer. Look at her out there," Sonny pointed out, giving Elizabeth a short wave.

"Her grandmother made her take dancing lessons when she moved here… Something to do with being a proper young lady or some horseshit like that! If you ask me, I'd say she looks uncomfortable," Trisha snorted, taking another sip of bubbly.

"Maybe she's just nervous."

Trisha shook her head, catching sight of Jason behind them. The wheels began to turn in her head. Maybe she could help things along with Jason and Elizabeth without technically meddling.

"No, if she was nervous, she would look down and maybe steal glances at him. She'd play it smart and look at him through her eyelashes, when he thought she was looking somewhere else. She's not doing any of that. You see the ways she turns her head to the side and doesn't even bother to look at him? And look how far apart they are!" Trisha glanced back to make sure Jason was still there and sure enough he was listening intently.

"Well, maybe-"

"Trust me. I'm an expert on body language!" Offering a casual look behind her, she checked out Jason's body language. Yep, he was definitely not liking the thought of Elizabeth being uncomfortable. God, she was good! "You don't just get a reputation like mine without earning it."

Sonny's eyes were shining with laughter. "And what reputation would that be?"

She licked her lips, fluttered her eyelashes dramatically and put on a fake accent that sounded not-so-much like French, though her goal was simply to seem sarcastically seductive and she pulled that off well. "Ask me when I'm a little drunker and maybe I'll show you."

Sonny chuckled. "Should I go rescue her?"

“No!” Watching Jason about ready to go rescue Liz himself, Trisha grabbed Sonny's forearm. "I mean, no. She’ll be okay." Taking in a relieved breath, she let go of him and pointed when Jason not so subtly whizzed by. "It looks like Jason's got a handle on things anyway."

Sonny's eyes narrowed, his lips twitching. "You set him up."

"Moi?" Blowing on her nails, she polished them off on the low vee off her dress. She was damn good!

"Coy is very becoming on you."

"Ah, and from what I've heard charming is your middle name. I'm glad to see you live up to it."

"Are you flirting with me?" Sonny took a step back to appraise her.

Trisha rolled her eyes. "Sonny, if you really have to ask, it has been too long. Don't worry, though. I'm only doing it to make Lucky jealous." She laughed, plastering a daring smile on her face while she waved over to Lucky who watched, seething, from across the room.

"You're a cruel one, Trisha Harper."

"Don't I know it!"

Elizabeth smiled, absently. She was trying to listen to the man she was dancing with while they twirled a little out of tune across the dance floor. But not much of what he said interested her.

"...but I don't believe in banks even though I made my money in stocks. You never can trust people with that kind of power. How about you?"

"Huh?" Did he just ask her a question? He was looking at her expectantly. Elizabeth cleared her throat and tried to come up with something reasonable to say. What had he been babbling on about for the past ten minutes? Oh yeah, stocks. "I don't own any stocks."

"Oh, that's too bad, just he other day I was saying..."

Tuning the rest out, Elizabeth looked over his shoulder and noticed Jason practically marching over to them. All at once, she felt relaxed and knew her time with the left-footed-money-flaunting-phony would be over soon.

"Jason," she sighed and stepped back from her partner when the song finally drew to a close.

"What?" the man asked, leaning down a little too close for her liking. She could smell his cheap collogue, expensive whiskey and the pungent twist of sweat. It was a bad combination.

Jason was beside, standing tall compared to the other man. Edging closer to Elizabeth, the older man backed off and locked eyes with Jason. Sensing the potential argument Elizabeth wedged her way between them and politely told the other man that she'd like to dance with someone else now. "But I had a lovely time," she offered in consolation.

The man grunted and headed off the dance floor with little more protest. A second later, she watched him lead a blonde with a bad dye job onto the floor and begin to groove out-of-synch to the beat.

Jason and Elizabeth stood side-by-side. There was a long moment when all they did was look at each other. The air seemed to crackle and churn with unspoken gratitude and something else she couldn't place.

"Dance with me?"

Her voice was low and raspy and, God help him, if he wouldn't like to hear her sound just like that waking up in the morning, in his arms.

He nodded slowly and let his hands find her waist, pulling her against him loosely.

Trisha watched from the sidelines with nearly unbridled glee.

Sonny found himself pulled into her game, watching them with enthusiasm.

"Now, look at the way Jason holds her. How his hands are on her waist and his fingers just brush her back. He likes her," she said, determined. "He likes her a lot."

It was a statement of definite fact, one that even Sonny had no right to argue with. "And how does she feel?"

Leaning in toward her counter-conspirator, Trisha spoke low. "Well, you see the way she stares up at him--like her eyes are half-open--she does that because she'd trying to figure out if she'd dreaming or not. She doesn't want to close her eyes because if it is a dream, he might vanish." She sighed dramatically. "At least that's what I'd be thinking! Now, you see the way her hand keeps lifting from his back, how it just hovers near his neck, barely brushing the tips of her fingers against his hair."

Sonny blinked. He tried to catch the details Trisha spoke about, even squinting his eyes to make the scene in front of him more clear. "Yeah, so?"

"She wants to kiss him." Her voice was barely above a whisper, like if she spoke it any louder she would break the spell.

"You can tell all that from one gesture?" Sonny turned his body into her, fascinated by her comments.

"I know Elizabeth. I can see it in her eyes. She's captivated by him. She doesn't shy away from him like she does with strangers. They look really comfortable. I haven't seen her that comfortable with a man since... Actually, I've never seen her that comfortable with a man. Oh, now this is interesting."

"What?" Putting down his drink, Sonny turned back to the couple, straining to find what was so fascinating now.

Trisha put her hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer so he could hear and no one else, while she spoke softly. "Look how he leans down as if he's trying to hear her better."

"But he's not?"

"Of course not!" she admonished, "his cheek keeps brushing her hair and every time without fail his eyes lose a little more focus and he has to pull back. You know what that means, right?"

Sonny wiped his handkerchief over his forehead. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"He wants to kiss her, too. And we are going to make it happen!" Her voice was calm and even. There was no room to mistake her statement as fact.

Sonny's eyes went wide with surprise. "We are?"

"Follow me." Taking his arm, she practically dragged him along.

When Trisha had a plan, she didn't stop until it was executed and got the desired result.

______

Jason's body felt so warm and smooth next to hers, she couldn't help letting out a tiny murmur of approval while they swayed on the dance floor in perfect time with the music and each other.

Had he ever danced? No, men like Jason didn't dance. They swayed. They carried their partners across the floor as if they owned the room. Keeping rhythm wasn't important. Holding their partners so they felt like the song was being played just for them was the true goal.

No, men like Jason didn't dance. They floated. They weren't too graceful nor overextended. They were simply there to make their women look good. And he did. He held her close. Close enough that she could feel the beating of his heart against her cheek and close enough to feel cherished.

She moved herself closer still, pressed into him more firmly and sighed. The thudding in his chest rose and if she could look into his eyes she would see that they were open wide and the blue in them was a sparkling blend of confusion and contentment.

His hands rested on her back, gently tracing circles against her skin through her sheer blouse. It felt really good. Better than good. Not quite indecent but sinful almost, like he was memorizing her skin through a layer of fabric. It was Elizabeth's mind that progressed into the idea that one day there would be nothing separating them and it would be skin against skin.

He had slow hands. Hands that felt too sensual, too skilled, for such a large, strong man. They were presents and he gifted her body with their touch; so light and soft, it felt like hot rain on a summer night. Did she know the touch of a man could be so gentle? No, she couldn't of. Women only realize that fact when they experience for the first time the warmth of love wrapped into fingertips and palms. The stroking of love from deep within another onto thyself is at first frightening and then all together addictive. She was becoming an addict the slower his hands dragged over her skin.

This was so much better than any dance she'd ever shared...and she'd danced a lot in her short life. But she wasn't just dancing with anyone, she was dancing with Jason Morgan, the man she had come to trust and care for deeper than she knew she could. All at once it was frightening and exciting. The air felt charged with heat, magnetized almost. A shiver ran down her spine and he pulled her closer in reaction, wafting spicy cologne into the air with the action. She breathed it in, nuzzled her face against the starched lapel of his jacket and let her fingers come to rest against his chest above his heart.

Most of the time, she couldn't read him. His heart seemed bruised; hidden in the shadows for so long it was now afraid of light. But tonight, if it had been only for an instant, she had seen his innocence. The way he seemed so at ease with the children and how easily he danced with her, like they were meant to always be so close, confirmed that he had a softer side to him. That underlying boyishness and naivety that made him see the good in everyone had flashed in his eyes. For a brief moment, he was unguarded. And she liked it.

The smell of some type of fresh plant alerted them. Something was up. And with the way Trisha and Sonny were cowering around like a couple of school children, she knew they were up to no good. So when she looked up and noticed the large bouquet of mistletoe above them, Elizabeth was only mildly surprised.

"Looks like you two got caught under the mistletoe and you know what that means... You have to kiss! Right, Sonny?"

"It is tradition." Sonny said, playing along.

If looks could kill, Elizabeth would have maimed Trisha horribly with the fire in her eyes.

"You don't want to break a tradition, do you?" Trisha batted her eyelashes and smirked real wide.

Elizabeth looked down at her feet. Talk about awkward situations.

Sparing a glance up at Jason, she caught his eye. There was concern there and the tiniest hint of need. He wanted to kiss. Hell, she couldn't deny that she wanted to either. But being forced was another story. Then again, they were both willing. Ah, what the hell, they'd been skirting such opportunities for a while now, she was not going to let this one pass them up.

"Sure, if it's okay with Jason."

Hell yeah, he was okay with it! Jason's head snapped up and his eyes twinkled with joy. Finally, this moment was before them.

It was the middle of winter, but between them they didn't feel an ounce of cold. Even the draft from the doorway, as people came in and out, went unnoticed.

Elizabeth leaned forward, straining upward--even with the added inches of her heels she was too short for him.

Jason mimicked her actions, bringing his head down close to hers.

The smell of soft perfume and chocolate pervaded his senses and he wondered briefly if he'd imagined her tongue flicking out to moisten her lips. Then he didn't care.

Lips touched and the first word that came to mind was heaven. It was like a thousand bright lights kissing Elizabeth Webber. Everything was heightened. His ears perked up catching the low rumbling of his stomach from being empty. The slick sound of wet flesh. The rasp of material.

There was just the smallest hint of dark chocolate on her lips. It wasn't enough. The taste of sweetness was only hinted at by the brief contact, he wanted to open her mouth and let his tongue find all the other places that hid the richness of the cocoa treat. But before they could go any father than a simple brush of lips, someone cleared their throat.

A little sheepishly they stepped back from each other and faced their friends respectively.

Trisha's smile was transfixed to her face and even Sonny was having trouble hiding a smirk.

"Happy now?" Elizabeth squeaked, wondering if that was actually her voice and had it always sounded so scratchy.

"Very!" Trisha exclaimed, taking Sonny by the arm and leading him away. "Let's leave them alone now."

Elizabeth turned back to Jason, slightly dazed. "I need some air. Want to go outside for a minute?" she requested.

Jason nodded and let her lead the way.

"That was hot!" Trisha said to Sonny. "Are you still skeptical?"

"I have to admit, it was a good idea and maybe they did need a gentle push in the right direction, but I still feel a little guilty that we tricked them into it."

"I didn't see them complaining."

"That's true," Sonny said, humorously.

"I think I'll go find Lucky. I've made him suffer enough. I might even dance with him." She winked.

Sonny shook his head.

"Be nice to that guy. He hasn't stopped looking at you the entire night," he chastised.

"He's overprotective."

"He looks at you like he's in love with you."

There was a seriousness that entered the conversation now that Trisha was not entirely comfortable with yet. Things with Lucky were still too complicated. "I think he's just constipated," she said, sardonically.

That was her ammo. Whenever things got serious, go for the joke.

"I know that look," Sonny reassured her. "Not a lot of people are lucky enough--no pun intended--to have someone in their life look at us like that. Don't throw it away. You might turn around one day and be lost without it."

Trisha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Even if a person that barely knew him could tell Lucky's feeling for her, it didn't make her open up to her own yet.

"I know," she said and walked away.

___________

"Look at all the stars," Elizabeth said, hugging her arms around herself from her place on the sidewalk, beside the church.

Jason stepped up behind her and wrapped his jacket around her shoulders.

"Thanks," she whispered, still gazing at the tiny white lights in the blackened sky.

Jason moved around her so he was ahead of her. He stuffed his hands into his dress pants, pulling the material tight over his butt.

Elizabeth watched. Her mouth went dry. God, he was sexy. She scanned his torso, taking in every inch of hidden muscle, every curve of defined power and every sharp turn of flesh-covered bone. He definitely was a force to be reckoned with.

The air was crisp, cool. It cut her breath in puffy clouds of moisture. She didn't feel cold though. It could have been the heat that she still felt in the lining of Jason's jacket or it could be that looking over at him, he didn't seem affected either. She could almost feel the warmth coming off of him.

Deciding that, for at least one night, she could be bold. And, after he'd given her such a perfect gift, Elizabeth stepped closer to Jason, an inch at a time, until she was within reach, and wrapped her arms around him from behind. She buried her face between his shoulder blades and felt the heat strongly against her cheek. Her hands rested on his sculpted stomach, feeling the hard pull of muscle and immeasurable strength there. Something told her he'd let her hold him like this always, if she wanted, when he relaxed and let out a shallow breath.

Turning, he brought her around so she faced him. His fingers found their way into her hair and played with the silky strands. Loosening the clip at the back of her curls, her hair cascaded onto her shoulders. He was surprised to see just how wild and exotic she looked when it framed her face and partially covered her neck.

"Jason." She didn't know why she said his name; didn't really know why she'd spoke at all, but something seemed to click in his eyes. A twinge of fear went through her before she relaxed and remembered that Jason would never hurt her.

Jason leaned down, caressing her cheek, letting his thumb skim her bottom lip. She was perfect and soft and her mouth felt sinful under his skin.

Another scratching step on the pavement beneath them and she was firmly pressed in his arms. Her chest strained against his, rising and falling with a quick gasp of surprise. Nuzzling his smooth, shaved cheek against hers, Jason breathed her in. He let his mouth hover over her skin; not quite touching the alabaster of her neck with the tip of his nose.

Elizabeth wasn't the kind of woman you just took. Jason knew that. Elizabeth was the kind of woman you savored. And then the moment for waiting--for sampling--was over and he was kissing her.

Her mouth was wet and gentle over his and her lips were velvety soft. His tongue stroked inside her mouth and there it was…that bittersweet taste of chocolate and her. It was hot and strong, a taste so surprisingly arousing he wondered how he'd managed to go this long without it. His senses were exploding like the thousand different stars lighting up the night sky above them. New sensation after new sensation curled into his stomach while he continued to taste her, enjoying each small murmur she let out.

This kiss was for them. Not because of tradition, or because people were waiting and watching, but because they wanted it.

On some level needed it.

With a sweep of his tongue into her mouth, he coaxed her deeper; demanded that she participate. That she let go. Follow him to a place they were both scared to go.

The moment spun out of control. The need became frenzied. The actions clumsy. The heat, choking.

His lips moved over hers with skill and she responded in kind. There was something sensual with the cold air grasping their skin and the hot intensity of skin-on-skin binding them together.

Her hands moved across his back, up his shoulders to his nape, feeling wisps of hair there and twisting them around her fingers. She needed to hold on to him. To hold him close for fear she'd fall with the intensity of it. Elizabeth could barely hear the hard thumping of music from inside the church doors. The only sound that mesmerized her was their heavy breathing.

Kissing Jason was unlike anything she'd ever felt in her life. She was in the moment, he demanded that of her. He wouldn't let her shrink away or let him take over. He made her strong, bold. He made her feel sexy and wanted and she never expected that.

There was stunned arousal in her eyes when he pulled back, as if she hadn't known that there was something so powerful between them before. All that wonder was now tangible.

Ignoring the deep burn in his body, Jason smoothed his hand down Elizabeth’s cheek and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead and then brought her close again. They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other's arms. Not thinking. Not overanalyzing. Just…succumbing to the moment.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" It wasn't really a question, not one she needed answered. It was more of an affirmation that what they'd done wasn't wrong. That she'd wanted it. That she'd longed to kiss him.

Forever, he thought candidly. He'd waited that long for a woman like Elizabeth Webber to come into his life. And he'd waited forever for a kiss that perfect.

Elizabeth chuckled softly and ran her hands through her hair, self-consciously. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom and fix my hair. If I go in there like this, Trisha will take one look at me and pretty much guess what happened. I'll meet you in there, okay?"

She didn’t wait for his reaction. She needed distance and just a little time away from him before things became too heated, too intense.

Jason stood outside for a long moment just by himself. He needed time to cool down. Needed time to gain his composure, and get back some semblance of control over his throbbing body.

He stepped back into the hall and immediately was assaulted by a less-than-sober woman.

"I've been waiting to dance with you all night!" the blonde squealed, sinking her nails into his forearm, not giving him a chance to get away.

Jason took a look toward the bathroom door and then another down at the blonde who was already pulling him along.

He hoped Elizabeth would come out soon and rescue him.

Jason kept his eye on the door, not the least bit distracted by the drunk in his arms. Couldn't she tell his mind was somewhere else? Why did things like this always happen to him? He didn't want to be rude. A lot of people were there to donate money and the last thing he needed to do was piss off a thirty-something, washed-up beauty queen if it meant the difference between helping some innocent child and not. He'd just have to grin and bear it for a few more minutes until Elizabeth helped him out…or the song ended, whatever came first.

"Mistletoe!" The blonde pushed herself against Jason and pressed her lips against his, despite his protests.

Shit! Donor or not, this was crossing the line.

Elizabeth smiled down at herself, smoothing out her skirt. She opened the door and stared ahead at the dance floor. Her eyes welled with tears. Her lips quivered and her knees shook. There, in the middle of the crowd, Jason was involved in an intense lip-lock with the tall, skinny blonde she'd earlier praised for taking the drunk accountant off her hands.

There was nothing to thank her for now.

Jason pushed the woman away and wiped his mouth. Dammit! He just hoped Elizabeth hadn't seen. There was only so much he could explain without speaking.

Stumbling at the coat rack, she almost ran into Sonny.

"Elizabeth? Is something wrong?" he asked, taking in her appearance.

"No," she practically whispered, then cleared her throat. "I think I just had too much to drink," she lied, not having taken a drop of alcohol. "Oh, I-I almost forgot… I have to make an appearance at my grandmother's annual Christmas party. I'm really sorry, but I promised my family I'd stop by. You don't mind, do you?"

"Well, I guess not. A lot of the guests with children have started to leave already, but maybe you can come back later."

Elizabeth rubbed her neck, trying not to think about how Jason had touched her earlier and to focus on Sonny. "I don't know. I don't think so, Sonny. I'm kind of tired."

"Alright then, I'm not going to force you." Sonny leaned in and gave her a hug.

She remained stiff and tried to control every urge in her that told her to just break down and collapse in her friend's arms. But she couldn't. She had to be strong.

She was foolish. She knew that now.

Everything she thought had been happening between her and Jason was just physical. It was all based on need. None of it was about a relationship or even love. He didn't owe her anything and she certainly didn't need Sonny's pity for realizing her mistake too late.

_________

Thoughts of Dominic had yet to leave his mind. He was sure there was something he could do to help him. He just had to find one of the women the boy had referred to, possibly to put in a request. Spotting the woman in black, Sonny gently touched her elbow. "Sister Mary-Thomas, is it?"

"Yes, that's right," she answered pleasantly.

"I wanted to ask you about one of the children in your care. He's about ten—well, almost eleven-years-old, dark hair, dark eyes… I think his name is Dominic. Nic, for short."

"Yes, Mr. Corinthos. He's a clever boy, that one. He’s younger than he claims. Though, by how much, we’re not really sure. Sometimes the children that come to us don’t really confide the whole truth. They’ve been hurt, you see. So, he’s small, but smart for his age. He's not much on joining in with the other kids, but he gets into enough trouble on his own," she said, laughing.

Sonny scratched his head, trying to broach the subject delicately. There was no telling how a woman of God would take to his interest in one of her pupils with his background in the mob and all. "I just wondered if there was anything I could do for him. Maybe be like a mentor or something. Take him to ball games or something like that?"

There was no judgment in Sister Mary-Thomas' eyes when she looked back at Sonny. "You want to take Nic under your wing? I'm sorry, Mr. Corinthos, but Nic doesn't take kindly to strangers. Ever since his mother died and he came to live with us, he's been a handful. He trusts me and Sister Margaret and that's pretty much it. It's hard enough to get him out of his room, let alone talk to anyone. I just don't see you being successful with him. Trust me we've tried many different approaches."

"Are you sure we're talking about the same boy?"

"There's no other Nic under my charge, Mr. Corinthos."

"That's strange."

"What is?"

"This evening, he and I… We talked. He told me about his mother."

"That is odd," Sister Mary-Thomas agreed. "It took Nic a long time before he came around and began to confide in me. There must be something about you that he trusts. It seems maybe being a mentor could be beneficial. He's never had a father-figure and a boy around his age really needs someone to look up to. Tell you what, let me think it over and discuss it with Nic and I'll get back to you on it."

Sonny reached out and took her hand. "I would appreciate it, Sister. Thank you."

"I should be the one thanking you, Mr. Corinthos. This benefit has raised a substantial amount of money that is really going to help us all out. So, thank you."

"Sonny? I hate to interrupt, but I can't find Elizabeth. Lucky and I were going to give her a ride home. Do you know where she went?"

Trisha tried to remain calm, but her eyes betrayed her worry. Something was definitely wrong.

Sonny shook his head. "No, that can't be right. She left a little while ago. She said she'd forgotten that she promised to stop in at her family's house."

"The only family Elizabeth has around here is her grandmother and she would be at the hospital entertaining all her doctor and nurse friends. She specifically told Elizabeth not to go because she was afraid she would embarrass her. How was she going to get there?"

Sonny rubbed his chin. None of it made any sense. Why would Elizabeth lie to him? "I-I didn't ask. I assumed that she was going with you. Why would she-"

Trisha reached out and took hold of Sonny's forearm to silence him. "It doesn't matter now. I'm going to go look for her."

“Wait. I'll get Jason." Sonny watched Trisha scurry off toward Lucky. There was something urgent in her step. Sonny felt his stomach drop. He had a bad feeling something awful was about to happen.