This Year's Christmas Present

  She could feel the rhythmic stroke of his palm up and down her back, her nipples’ sudden sensitivity. And when, for a moment, he pulled her against him, the hard thrust of his body between her thighs assured her he felt the same.

  He released her finger, and she backed away from him, her breaths coming in quick gasps that had nothing to do with exertion. This is what you wanted.

  His hard face creased into a smile that would’ve convinced Little Red Riding Hood and all her extended family to climb into bed with him.

  He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, and she wanted him to kiss her so badly she felt the ache all the way to…She clenched her thighs to hold the ache in.

  “It’s funny. We come from the same kind of background, but you settled into a nose-to-the-grindstone job and I—”

  “Settled into a life of drifting.” Oops. Maybe she’d been a little too blunt.

  Placing his arm across her shoulders, he forced her to face his house. “You know, sweetheart, you’ve given me a reason to stop my no-account drifting for at least a week. I’m going to be the guy who brings Christmas back to you.”

  He leaned close. “Ever lived inside someone else’s dream, Flame?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Why would I want to do that? Living inside your dream could be real scary.” Amazing. She was shivering in the cold, but the place where his arm rested was toasty warm. “Besides, I thought you said they were desires.”

  “For the experience. If you don’t have any dreams of your own, you might enjoy living someone else’s secondhand.” Lifting his arm from her shoulders, he reached beneath the collar of her coat and gently massaged the base of her neck. “And you’re not ready for desires yet. Dreams become desires.”

  If he thought that would relax her, he was mistaken. Neck nerves screamed “He’s touching me!” then galloped off to spread the news to her brain. Her brain was a notorious gossip. Details would be all over the neighborhood in seconds.

  “One week till Christmas, Flame. Live my dream with me. Why not? It might be the only one you ever have.”

  He’d moved close, and his warm breath fanned her neck; his husky murmur fanned her imagination. This was it. Her moment of truth. She swallowed hard. Okay, maybe she could put if off for a few more moments. “I guess you really must be settling down, Sloan. When’re you moving into your house permanently?”

  He looked as though her question had surprised him. “Soon. I came here this week to make sure everything’s ready. Then I’m flying to California to—”

  She couldn’t stand it anymore. “Exactly what are you offering?” If she was jumping out of a plane without a parachute, so be it. But she had to know.

  He shrugged, then smiled. His smile was the promise of all things dark and delicious. “What ever you want me to be offering, Flame.”

  That was pretty clear. “Okay, let’s get this deal straight. I live in your energy-efficient castle for a week, enjoy your dream, however misguided, then go home. End of experience.”

  “Bare bones? I guess that’s it.”

  “But what will I do for a whole week?” Besides have hot sex with you as soon as I get up the nerve to suggest it.

  He exhaled sharply. “Right. You need a job description. How about decorator? I need some feminine input for the color schemes in a few of the rooms.” His lips curved up in a take-me-to-bed smile. “Do a good job and you might even get a visit from Santa.”

  “Bribery? Sounds like bribery to me, Mitello.” She’d really rather do this in the familiarity of her own apartment, but Mrs. Clark downstairs would be whacking her ceiling with a broom handle at the first sound of a banging headboard.

  Besides, after this week is over, do you want to go to bed each night with the image of Sloan’s body beside you, the remembered warmth of his hand on your breast, the scent of him clinging to your dreams, the sound of his breathing haunting the silence of dark nights?

  This was supposed to be a fling. Short, sweet, and over. She didn’t want to climb into bed with his memory every night. It would be better if she stayed at his house.

  He shrugged. “It’s all about incentive, Flame. What do you have to lose? You might even learn something about desires. For example, mine paid for this house.” He pulled her against his side again as another cold blast swirled around them.

  For a moment, she allowed the flex of his hip to distract her. “What do I have to lose?” My virginity. A hoped-for outcome. “Nothing, I guess.”

  “Afraid, Flame?” His words were soft, almost lost in the whistling wind. “Afraid you might like it too much here? Afraid that deep down where the real Jenny Saunders lives there’s a dreamer? Someone whose dreams could turn to desires?”

  “Of course not.” She wasn’t like her father. She’d never be like her father. But are you sure? “I don’t have anything to prove to you.”

  “When was the last time you had fun? I bet you haven’t done anything just for the hell of it since the mud puddle.”

  She smiled. She’d forgotten all about the mud puddle. A warm June afternoon after a heavy shower. It was still Senior Week, and everyone was still crazy. A walk in the woods where they’d found this big muddy spot. She’d caught him off balance and pushed him in. He’d stripped down to his shorts, then he’d taunted her. “Afraid of getting dirty?” His tactics hadn’t changed much.

  She hadn’t stripped off her shorts or top, but she couldn’t resist his dare. They’d laughed and rolled in that mud until she couldn’t laugh anymore. If she closed her eyes she could almost breathe the heavy humid air, feel the slickness of his skin beneath her fingers. His skin. Strange she’d remember that.

  “Well?” He sounded a little anxious.

  Good. She wasn’t finished thinking about that mud. Admit it. The thought of rolling around in slippery mud now with Sloan Mitello is…dangerous ground. Literally.

  “You gonna walk away from it?”

  She smiled. Not until I can tell Carole I did it six times in one night. “Okay, but you might live to regret this.” She cast a speculative glance at all his lights. “Make sure you show me where your ciruit breakers are.”

  He hugged her close. “Will do.”

  Her moment of bravado oozed out all over the sidewalk. She’d agreed. She was committed. By the time she walked away from Sloan’s house, she’d be a woman of the experience that worried her.

  They’d gone back to Jenny’s apartment, gathered her things together, and were now climbing the stairs to her room in his house. And Sloan still wasn’t sure what this was all about.

  Sure it was physical, but physical didn’t have to be in his house. Physical could be anywhere.

  Question. Why had he fed her that hokey line about bringing Christmas back to her? He didn’t want to be involved. So now he was trucking up the stairs of his house loaded down with her stuff. That sure seemed involved to him. Didn’t make sense.

  At least she wouldn’t be getting anymore secret admirer’s baskets for at least a week. He smiled as he opened her door.

  “This is my room?”

  Sloan nodded. He’d looked forward to her expression of horror. Jenny didn’t disappoint.

  “Santa’s behind is sticking out of the fireplace. I can’t believe you got all twelve days of Christmas in one room. I hope that’s an artificial partridge. Why is Rudolph standing on the mantle? I can’t sleep with twinkle lights around my bed and a tree next to me. I never liked camping out.” She twirled in a circle looking for new complaints.

  “Oxygen.”

  “What?” She focused her outraged gaze on him.

  “The tree will supply oxygen so you’ll be able to breathe between complaints.”

  “Look, this was your idea.” Her gaze was now focused on the top of the tree. “This whole house is frenetic. Don’t you yearn for one spot that isn’t overflowing with holiday spirit?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. I have a whole childhood of holiday spirit to catch up on.”

 
She still stared at the tree top. “Well guess what? This room is going to be your calm spot in a sea of celebration, because first thing in the morning I’m going to ban all holiday spirit from this room.”

  His muttered “Scrooge” didn’t break her concentration on the top of his tree.

  “You know, that’s a really unusual ornament.”

  He glanced at the top of the tree in time to see a small whiskered face emerge from the branches. He breathed out a sigh of growing impatience. “That’s Toby.” Reaching up, he snatched the tiny white kitten off the tree. “Sorry. I’ll try to keep him out.”

  Sloan shifted his gaze away from Toby in time to catch Jenny’s transformation.

  Her expression softened, her lips tilting up in a smile that turned his insides to mush. Why couldn’t she look at him with that expression? Okay, maybe not that exact expression. He’d like a little more lust in it, a little more I-want-you-naked-in-bed-with-me.

  “He’s cute. Yours?” Her tone suggested surprise.

  “Yeah. I came across this box of abandoned kittens yesterday, so…”

  “You took him in.”

  He would’ve rescued a thousand kittens to have her look at him with exactly the expression she had now.

  “That was sweet, Sloan.” She moved to his side and reached out to stroke the kitten.

  Her stroke didn’t end with Toby, but continued up his arm until her fingers reached his hair. She smelled of cold air and warm woman.

  Sloan couldn’t help himself. Placing Toby on her bed, he reached out and traced the line of her jaw. Smooth. Determined. Clenched. He was making her nervous. But he couldn’t help himself. Even if he sent her screaming into the night, he had to taste her one more time to night. That was his immediate desire, and he rarely left desires unfulfilled, especially his own.

  Transferring his hand to the back of her neck, he pulled her to him. As she turned her head against his shirt, he could hear her mumbling something about adjustment time and ahead of schedule. Made no sense to him.

  He fingered the short strands of hair at the base of her neck. What a waste. He longed to run his fingers through silken flame, but he’d have to make do with something else tonight.

  Gently, he kissed the soft skin beneath her ear, then ran his tongue the length of her neck to where the pale silk of her blouse stopped him. It would take no effort to lift the edge of the blouse and continue his journey. His body was already making travel arrangements, and his bags were packed. He shifted to relieve the pressure.

  Her soft sigh moved against his chest, warming him from the inside out. He gently turned her face up to him and kissed her forehead, then the end of her nose, then…

  Then he moved away from her.

  She wasn’t ready. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, but he sensed her inner trembling, her tenseness. She hadn’t been ready in high school either, and he’d walked away from her. Not this time. He’d give her some space and his own personal brand of attention, and by the end of the week…He smiled. She’d be ready.

  “I guess I’d better unpack, then get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” She bent down and unplugged the twinkling lights. “Talk about sugarplums dancing…” Absently, she pulled her blouse away from where it clung to her breasts. “I guess you have things to do, so you can leave.”

  The outline of her breasts, which no amount of blouse adjusting could hide, didn’t say “leave.” The flick of her tongue across those luscious lips didn’t say “leave.” Nothing about her said “leave.”

  “Right. Leave.” Relax. But he wasn’t in relax mode. He had to get out of here before he did something that would definitely prove his readiness. “Sleep tight, Jenny.”

  As he shooed Toby out, then shut the door behind him, he got a final glimpse of her bemused expression. Was there a little bit of regret in her gaze? A little bit of sexual frustration in her clenched fists? He hoped so.

  Because his whole body was vibrating with sexual readiness, with heat and want and denial. Incredible. No matter how often he reminded his body that this was Jenny, his old pal, his body ignored him. Its chant of “Sex, sex” was getting to be a real pain. Literally.

  Sloan Mitello wasn’t into pain. He was into fulfilling desires, his own as well as other people’s. Even though Jenny wouldn’t believe him, he had quite a few unfulfilled desires. Now might be the time to check off one of them. A minor one, granted, but one with tantalizing possibilities.

  Sloan walked to the back door, flung it open, and stepped outside. He glanced at the ten-foot high wood fence surrounding his property, then strode along the path that wound between now-bare oaks and maples to the cleared area with the frozen pond.

  He should be freezing, but his body’s memory of Jenny was heated need. Snowflakes fell faster as he looked up at the night sky. He grinned. Showtime.

  Methodically, he stripped off his clothes, then stood naked as the freezing crystals touched his body then melted, running in rivulets over his chest, his stomach, his thighs. Bracing his legs, he inhaled raggedly as needle-sharp pricks of coldness settled on the part of him that needed it most.

  He pictured Jenny here beside him, her smooth body bare and gleaming in the snow’s false light. She’d laugh and raise her arms to the drifting flakes. He’d watch the lift and thrust of her breasts, the flakes settling on each nipple, her nipples hardening. He’d reach for her, but she’d dance away as she reminded him, “Not ready, Mitello.” Damn!

  Closing his eyes, he wondered why the flakes didn’t hiss as they touched him, forming a cloud of hot steam. Opening his eyes, he held out his hand to catch the flakes, then smoothed the coolness over his body. Flinging his head back, he felt the snow touch him everywhere like tiny fingertips.

  Exhaling sharply, he glanced down. Nothing short of an ice bath would affect his body’s hot-and-hard mind-set.

  The slam of a closing window shifted his attention.

  Jenny.

  He turned the thought over in his mind, enjoyed the possibilities. Hmm. Maybe she wouldn’t dream of sugarplums to night. A man could hope.

  Gathering up his clothes, he carried them back to the house. No use putting them on when he was going straight to his shower. His warm shower, then to his hot dreams.

  Just before going inside, he glanced up at Jenny’s window. Dark. He smiled.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jenny crept from the window. She’d opened the darned thing to cool off her hot thoughts of Sloan. But after what she’d seen, she might never have a cool thought again.

  When she was sure he’d gone inside, she plugged in the twinkle lights. She didn’t want the bright light of a bedside lamp to draw his attention if he went outside again. Mesmerized, she watched the blinking little lights do an uncoordinated dance around her bed.

  Sloan had changed her concept of “snowman” forever. In the shifting shadows cast by the lights, she could still see him standing naked in the falling snow, his head thrown back, hair a dark halo framing a face etched with need. For her. His hard body gleaming against a white background. Aroused. For her.

  For the first time since this new Sloan rang her doorbell, she felt confident. She could do this. She wanted to do this.

  With renewed determination, she picked up the phone to call Carole. She needed to let her friend know where to reach her.

  While Carole’s phone rang, she sat down on the bed facing away from the door and window, but that did little to erase Sloan’s image from her mind. Finally, Carole answered her phone with a sleepy hello.

  “Sorry, Carole. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

  “Jenny?” Carole’s voice lost its sleepiness. “So what happened? Did it work?”

  “The basket was perfect, and I’m staying with Sloan this week. He’s interested and I’m ready. If everything goes as planned, I’ll have my fling by the end of the week. Then I can go home and get on with my life.” A breath of cool air played across the back of her neck. She mustn’t have closed the window
tightly.

  “This could lead to greater things, girlfriend. Maybe you and Sloan can work on a longer relationship.”

  “Not likely.” Jenny smiled. Since her marriage, Carole had turned from confirmed single-forever-and-proud-of-it to dedicated matchmaker. “Sloan’s a great guy, but he’s fling material, not a long-term relationship kind of man.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Sloan’s a dreamer, just like Dad. He might be successful right now, but a dreamer’s world can collapse at any moment.” She knew. “No, I’ll have my fling with Sloan, then down the road a while I might meet a nice stable guy with a dependable nine-to-five job and I’ll marry him.”

  “Boring, Jenny. Really boring.”

  She didn’t want to get in an argument with Carole when she had plans to make. “Anyway, I’m ready for my fling. Talk to you after it happens.” She hung up before Carole could mount another defense of Sloan.

  “To paraphrase an old Hanes commercial, you’re not ready until I say you’re ready.”

  Ohmigod. She turned slowly. Sloan leaned casually against the frame of the open door. “Why didn’t the door squeak? Every door should squeak.”

  “That’s quite an opinion you have of me, Flame.”

  He wore only a towel wrapped around his waist, and despite her horror, Jenny’s gaze was drawn to the muscular length of him. Obviously her optic nerves were not in sync with her brain.

  He dropped several towels on a chair near the door. “Thought you might need these.”

  “I’m sorry you heard that, Sloan. Do you want me to leave?” She didn’t want to leave, not when she was so close.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Did I say that? Besides, where else will you find such a convenient fling?”

  Jenny winced. He was right. She’d never find someone this right again. “So where do we go from here?”

  He shrugged away from the doorframe. “When I feel you’re ready, I’ll give you your ‘fling.’”