The Spy Who Came For Christmas

  He strode toward her. She almost backed away, but at the last moment, Jemma stiffened her spine. She met his stare and there was no missing the desire in his golden gaze.

  “If you need me,” Grayson told her. “I’ll be right here for you.”

  I think I do need you. But I’m not ready. Not yet.

  Jemma nodded. Then she turned and hurried into her bedroom. She didn’t look back.

  She did lock the bedroom door. And then she leaned against it.

  Holy hell.

  ***

  The Christmas tree lights were twinkling. Grayson lay on the couch, his eyes on that tree. When had he last put up a Christmas tree? Before his parents had died? When he’d been a teen? A kid?

  Thirteen. I was thirteen the last time I had a Christmas tree. Because his parents had been killed in a boating accident the following spring. He’d gone to live with his grandfather, a tough ex-sailor who hadn’t much cared for decorations and celebrations. Oh, he’d been a good man, no doubt. Fair and hard and with a rigid sense of right and wrong but…

  We exchanged presents on Christmas. Had a nice meal. Not like it was some kind of sob story. Only there had been no tree. No silly stockings like Jemma had hanging near her mantel. No little reindeer hiding in all the corners. And no big, overstuffed Santa Clauses perched on shelves.

  This whole house—it just felt like Christmas. It…

  Had magic?

  No, no, there was no magic. Total bullshit.

  But…

  His gaze drifted up the tree and then, slowly, his stare turned toward the hallway. If I could have anything I wanted for Christmas…

  I would want her.

  Chapter Five

  When he woke up, he smelled bacon. Eggs. Cinnamon rolls? And…

  Chocolate. Dear God, the delicious chocolate.

  Grayson nearly bounded off the couch and then he stared at the kitchen in amazement. Jemma was in there—already up and dressed and she’d made breakfast. And he hadn’t heard her. “How the hell did you do that?” he demanded.

  Jemma—holding a plate of chocolate chip muffins—froze. “Do what?” Then she looked at the muffins and smiled. “Oh? These? Really easy. You just put the chocolate chips in the muffin mix and pop them in the oven.” Her smile dimmed a bit when he remained silent. “I made a lot of different things, hoping there would be something you liked—”

  He liked her. Grayson hurried toward her. He’d ditched his shirt but he still had on his jeans. They hung low on his hips. “You didn’t wake me.”

  “Well, no, I thought you might want to sleep.” Her gaze darted to the clock and she winced. “Though it isn’t even six yet. I’m sorry—I just go to the chocolate shop early most days.”

  He took the plate from her. “You didn’t wake me.” He was having a hard time getting past that. He was the lightest sleeper in the world. He’d had to be. When your life was always in danger, you learned to pretty much sleep with one eye open. The slightest rustle normally woke him. But Jemma had been able to cook that feast? Just feet away and he’d been snoring the whole time?

  Her smile flashed again, lighting up her blue eyes even more. “You were cute when you were sleeping. Less scary tough and more…cuddly?”

  She had not just said that.

  “You were seriously cuddling that pillow,” Jemma added.

  And…he laughed. The laughter spilled out of him and it was real. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that. Laughed and slept easily and woken up to chocolate muffins.

  Woken up to an angel like Jemma.

  She was still smiling at him. His chest ached as he stared at her and slowly, his laughter faded.

  He couldn’t look away from her. Couldn’t stop staring into her eyes and as he gazed at her—Oh, hell, I am in trouble. The worst kind of trouble possible.

  “Jemma…” Her name broke from him as a growl.

  She stepped toward him and he saw the flash of need on her face. This connection—this wild desire—they both felt it. Unnatural, too strong—yeah, yeah, he got all of that. And he didn’t care. I want Jemma. Right there on her fucking kitchen table. Right—

  Someone was pounding at the door. No. Absolutely not. No. His fingers were already up and he was ready to touch her skin. To kiss her.

  But Jemma slipped around him and hurried to the door.

  “Jemma, wait!”

  He got to the door seconds behind her. He peeked out her window and saw the sheriff’s car waiting outside. Brad—there that early?

  Jemma had peeked out and seen Brad, too. She turned off her alarm and opened her door. Brad stood there, looking tired and grim. “Found the truck,” he said. His gaze darted between Jemma and Grayson and the slight tightening of his mouth told Grayson the guy didn’t like what he saw. Too bad.

  “Where was it? Who took it?” Jemma asked.

  “As to where…it was sent off the side of the mountain, about fifteen miles away. Twisted chunks of metal—that’s all that’s left of it now.”

  Jemma backed up and her shoulder pushed into Grayson’s chest. “The driver—was he killed?”

  “No driver was found at the scene. Got a crew out searching, but it doesn’t look like a body is down there.”

  Grayson’s jaw clenched. “So someone sent that truck crashing down?” It certainly would have been easy enough to do. Hell, he’d even used a strategy like that a time or two in the field. When he needed to ditch a ride and he didn’t want anyone finding any evidence left behind—a fast crash. A fiery wreck to destroy evidence. And he’d walked away clean.

  “Appears that way,” Brad said. “Wanted you two to know. And since I was already close by and I know that Jemma always gets up early for the chocolate shop…” He tipped his hat at them. “Figured I’d deliver the news in person.”

  It wasn’t news that Grayson liked. In fact, it made him worry even more.

  It’s not like you can stop being a spy.

  No, he couldn’t.

  Did you bring trouble with you to my town? Brad’s question whispered through Grayson’s mind. He’d thought he was safe before, but right then, Grayson wasn’t so sure.

  ***

  Grayson Cole had spent the night with the woman. And when he’d answered the door to the local sheriff, the guy had been half-dressed.

  He’s definitely involved with her. Was the woman the reason that Grayson rushed to Holly, North Carolina? If so, then she was a very, very powerful weapon to be used in his battle.

  He stayed in the woods, watching his prey. The area was such a perfect hunting ground. So many trees. Thick bushes. Winding roads. It made things so much easier for him.

  Grayson walked the sheriff back to his car. He slapped a hand on the guy’s shoulder. They talked some more, and then, when the sheriff drove away, Grayson hesitated. His stare swept over the area.

  You can’t see me. I’m hidden too well.

  You taught me all the tricks, Grayson.

  Grayson strode back toward the house. He caught the woman’s hand. Brought it to his lips. Kissed her knuckles quickly.

  Gently? Since when was Grayson Cole ever gentle with anyone?

  That’s not the way you act with a one-night stand.

  Grayson shut the door.

  And the watcher smiled. Christmas was coming, and this year, he was going to get exactly what he wanted. Grayson’s pain. His suffering. His death.

  My revenge.

  And the woman—that pretty little chocolate shop owner—she was going to be the perfect instrument of his vengeance.

  ***

  Grayson was waiting for her when she got off work. Actually, he came into her shop just before closing time. The bell jingled over her door and when she looked up, he was there.

  Light snowflakes had fallen onto his dark hair, and they lined the top of his coat. As she stared at him, he smiled at her. A slow grin that warmed every single inch of her.

  “I’m just finishing up.” Storing her items. Cleani
ng up. Getting things ready for tomorrow. “Give me just a second.” Because they had a date, didn’t they? She hoped so, because she’d been thinking about it all day. Planning.

  Well, she’d been planning when she hadn’t been obsessing about Matthew’s truck and her strange late-night visitor. So perhaps she’d been a bit nervous. Who wouldn’t be?

  Grayson stepped fully into her little shop. He inhaled. “This place smells so insanely good.” He kept walking, coming behind the counter and right up to her.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Sweet chocolate,” he murmured. “The perfect sin.”

  “Grayson—”

  He kissed her. And she didn’t even pretend she wasn’t wildly excited about his kiss. Her hands locked around him and she kissed him back, opening her lips, enjoying the thrust of his tongue, enjoying the heck out of him.

  He groaned, a low, ragged sound that she absolutely adored because she knew she was turning him on. Only fair really, his kiss had her breasts aching and her whole body tensing.

  His hands had settled around her hips. She could feel his fingertips right over the curve of her ass. He’d pulled her close, and there was no missing his growing erection. His mouth pulled from hers, just an inch. “You taste like chocolate.”

  Her lashes lifted. She stared up at him.

  “Sweet and sexy, my perfect sin.” His eyes gleamed down at her.

  Unable to help herself, Jemma pushed up on her toes and she lightly licked that delectable scar that sliced across his lips.

  His hold tightened on her. “Jemma…”

  “I have something I think you’ll like.” Since he kept talking about sin, there was a treat she wanted to give him. She eased out of his hold and hurried to the back. She found what she wanted—what she hoped he’d adore—and hurried back to him. “It’s from my…special reserve.” Very few people knew about her reserve. It was something fun she’d made for a few of her friends—an idea that had been created one drink-filled night. And she’d kept up the reserve ever since that fateful date because she liked the challenge of making new, sexy chocolates.

  And all of these chocolates are sexy. Sexy enough to drive a person wild.

  She held up her offering for Grayson. “Since you like chocolate…” This one was a special treat—milk chocolate, caramel, sea salt for kick…

  Grayson bent and took a bite of the chocolate that she offered to him. His lips pressed to her fingers in a quick kiss.

  Her heartbeat thundered.

  Then he gave that groan again. That sexy, ragged groan. “Delicious.” The desire in his gaze was shining even brighter and she didn’t know if he was talking about the chocolate—

  Or me.

  “Orgasm,” she whispered.

  “What?” His eyes widened.

  “I, um, that chocolate…it’s called Orgasm.” And she was blushing. Crap. So much for playing it cool. “My special reserve.”

  She still had a little left in her hand.

  But he bent and took it from her and when she felt the light rasp of his tongue on her skin, Jemma shivered.

  “I like that reserve,” Grayson murmured. “One hell of a lot.” His head cocked as he studied her. “But I think one good orgasm deserves another, don’t you?”

  Oh. My God. Yes, yes, I definitely do—

  The bell over her door jingled.

  She wanted to kill whoever was in that doorway. Painfully. Slowly. Grayson had turned at the jingle and he was staring at the door, too.

  Staring at Matthew.

  Matthew…who was holding flowers in his hands and looking miserable.

  Matthew glanced at Grayson, gulped, then muttered. “Oh, shit.”

  Grayson growled. He took a step toward the other guy, but Jemma grabbed his arm and held tight.

  “Jemma…” Matthew didn’t move. Just kept looking miserable. “I wanted to apologize. For last night. For being…such a drunk jerk.”

  “It’s all right,” she said, voice soft but flat.

  “The hell it is,” Grayson fired back.

  Matthew took a few cautious steps toward her counter and he put the flowers he held—yellow roses—near her register. “I picked these up from Silver Bells. They’re yellow—for friendship,” he emphasized with a quick, nervous glance at Grayson.

  Grayson just kept glaring.

  Matthew exhaled and straightened his shoulders as he said, “Dude, someone wrecked my ride. My head still feels like shit today, and I’ve got a giant bruise on my stomach where you punched me.” Matthew swallowed, the click of his Adam’s apple overly loud. “I’m suffering, okay?” His stare focused on Jemma. “And I hate that I said that shit to you, Jemma. I’m sorry.”

  He actually sounded as if he meant his apology, so she said, “Thanks, Matthew.”

  “You’re a class act, Jemma. And when I get drunk, I say stupid crap. It won’t happen again.”

  “Better not,” Grayson warned darkly.

  “It won’t. I swear.” Matthew hurried for the door. “I’ll, um, just let myself out.”

  “Yeah, you do that.” Grayson kept glaring as the guy ran away. Then he picked up the flowers and glared at them, too.

  Jemma laughed. “Grayson…”

  “He seriously thinks he has a shot with you.”

  “He does not.” Even Matthew wasn’t that clueless.

  His glare on the flowers became even worse. “I bet you don’t even like roses.”

  “Um, actually, I don’t.” He’d surprised her. “I like Forget-Me-Nots.” Something about the simple beauty of a Forget-Me-Not had always appealed to her.

  Grayson pursed his lips. “And Silver Bells—where is that?”

  “Right around the corner. It’s the local flower shop.” Right. Like he hadn’t figured that out. She gave a quick shake of her head. “We’re still on for tonight, right? I mean—our date?”

  “Damn straight. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Good.” She pushed Matthew from her mind and got back to what mattered. “Because I have a surprise for you.”

  “Another one? I’m still savoring your last surprise.”

  Her last—

  Orgasm. “Glad you liked it.” She was blushing as she said those words. She’d never told any of the men she dated—such brief dates—about her reserve. But Gray was different.

  His mouth hitched into a half-smile. That half-smile was ridiculously sexy. “Just so you know, I am definitely a more-than-one-orgasm a night kind of guy.”

  Noted.

  As fast as she could, Jemma finished shutting down her shop. She hung up her apron and hurried for the door, pulling Grayson with her. The snow was still falling—just a light dusting, and the sky had darkened. The lights were sparkling from all the shops as they headed down Main Street.

  They’d both put on gloves before they left her shop, and Grayson took her gloved hand in his, twining his fingers with hers. On the corner, a group of carolers were singing Silent Night. The whole town was lit up. Glowing.

  Happy.

  And in that moment, with Grayson at her side, she was happy, too.

  They stopped a bit, listening to the carolers. She usually joined in the singing, too, but…not that night. She had other plans. A special arrangement she’d worked out just for Grayson.

  She glanced over at him. “Hope you’re up for some adventure.”

  He quirked his brows at her.

  Laughing, she led the way…away from the carolers and the lights, down, slipping away from the crowd and onto the next street. And, there, with lights glowing around it…Holly’s small ice skating rink waited.

  No one else was around—just Zack, the teen who ran the place during the holidays. She’d slipped him an extra fifty when he came by for his chocolate fix earlier, and he’d agreed to give her private access to the rink. “It’s normally closed at this hour,” she told Grayson as they headed toward Zack and the booth of skate rentals that waited. “But we’re getting the VIP treatment ton
ight.”

  Zack asked for their sizes and a few moments later, he handed them the skates. Jemma quickly ditched her boots and put on her skates. She stood, ready to go—

  Grayson was still staring at the skates in his hand.

  “Gray? Is everything okay?”

  He looked up at her. “I’ve never been ice skating.”

  Her eyes widened and she gave him a quick hug, tottering just a little on her blades. “You’ll love it! You’ll feel so free—like you’re flying over the ice!”

  “I’m going to fall on my ass.”

  She laughed. “Maybe. But we’ll just get you right back up again. That’s what you do when you fall. You get up.”

  His gaze drifted over her face. His expression softened. “Yes, that’s what you do.”

  “Besides, you have me. I’ll help you.”

  Zack had just keyed up the music. She might have to give that kid some extra chocolate on his next visit.

  She helped Gray get his skates on and then they made their way—slowly, because Gray was taking tiny steps—to the ice.

  “First, we’ll just start by walking,” Jemma told him. “No need for anything fancy yet.” Though she normally loved to zip right over the ice.

  They started walking. Grayson was still doing those adorable, tentative steps. Could the man get sexier? She kept her hand on him, giving him a little support.

  “Find your balance, it’s easier that way. Just take your time.” She’d never taught anyone to ice stake before, so Jemma hoped she wasn’t screwing this up. “You’re doing great.” He actually was. “Lean on your left foot, then push off with your right.”

  They started moving a little faster.

  Christmas lights were hung over the rink, and when Jemma tilted back her head, those bright lights looked like stars—beautiful stars. She and Grayson moved faster and the music drifted over her.

  “Jemma!”

  Her head turned at Grayson’s yell, right before he crashed. He went down hard and since she was still holding his arm, he took her down with him. She’d fallen on the ice before—dozens of times—so Jemma was ready for the impact.

  Only she didn’t hit the ice.