Unwrap Me. Susan Lyons
“Don’t you dare even think it!” she warned him.
He lost the smile and shook his head. “Sorry. I honestly didn’t know what she had in mind. I’ll go now.”
She grabbed his coat and thrust it toward him, holding it so there was no way their fingers could touch. “You bet you will.”
A flicker of something crossed his features. Something like sadness or maybe loneliness. But, no, she must have been mistaken; it was gone in a flash. He didn’t put the coat on—just headed for the door.
Hand on the knob, he glanced over his shoulder. “I’m gonna kill Karen.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want first shot.”
A laugh spluttered out of her before she could stop it. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but his eyes sparkled and he began to chuckle, and she couldn’t hold back.
After a few moments, she tried to pull herself together. Pressing her hands against her hot cheeks, she shook her head, still amazed at her friend’s audacity but no longer angry. Funny how a good belly laugh could mellow a girl. “Okay, I guess I don’t really believe she sent you here for sex. But what was she thinking?”
Not that the idea of sex with Nick was a turnoff. The guy was the poster boy for “hot.” So hot her whole body felt flushed and achy. If she had been in the market for a superstud, Karen couldn’t have chosen better.
“I dunno.” His eyes had gone soft, serious, almost vulnerable. “We just saw my folks off on a tropical cruise, and I wasn’t looking forward to going back to an empty apartment. Maybe she took pity.”
Jude raised a skeptical eyebrow. Cute line, but she wasn’t buying. “Uh-huh. Didn’t Karen tell me you’re a firefighter?” At his nod, she went on. “You’re not exactly hard on the eyes, and you seem at least moderately intelligent. I can’t believe you have trouble finding dates.”
“Nah.” The twinkle was back in his eyes. “But the women I meet are either kinda young and immature, or they’re seriously into marriage—and not into me when I tell them I’m not.”
“You really don’t want to get married?”
“Not yet. Don’t want to be tied down, and I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”
“You’re a firefighter, yet you don’t like the idea of responsibility?”
He shrugged.
Nick’s job required a major degree of responsibility, so maybe it made sense that he’d want a carefree personal life. Points to him for not leading a girl on if she was looking for commitment.
This guy was quite something. Handsome, sexy, honest. If Jude was looking for a no-strings fling, he’d be perfect.
“I should get going.” He held out his hand. “It’s been nice meeting you.”
She met his hand with hers. Damn, she’d forgotten what happened when they touched. More zingy heat, and the zing went straight to her pussy. Quickly she pulled free. “You, too.” Her voice caught in her throat, so the words came out sounding brusque.
She moved to the door and opened it.
“Bye, Jude.” As he turned to step through, she again saw that tiny shadow cross his face.
He’d confessed he hadn’t wanted to go back to an empty apartment. And the truth was, much as she loved her comfy home, sometimes it felt empty, too.
She watched his broad back as he walked out the door. A hot firefighter would definitely warm up the empty corners. Asking him in wouldn’t be a commitment to have sex, simply a chance to get to know each other. Then, depending on how the evening progressed…
God, what was she thinking? She’d never in her life had sex on a first date. And this wasn’t even a date.
He was halfway down the steps. She hadn’t closed the door behind him, and cold air rushed in, making her shiver and wrap her arms around herself.
What could it hurt? “Nick?” she called.
He turned. “Yeah?”
Oh, god, how could she phrase this? “Want to come in for a drink, and we can plot how to murder Karen?”
A broad smile flashed. “You bet.” He came up the steps, and when he was under the porch light she saw the gleam in those greenish gray eyes.
She shivered again, but this time not from the cold.
3
Closing the door behind him, Nick wondered why Jude had changed her mind. Did she feel the same sense of connection he did? A sexual pull, for sure—what guy wouldn’t be turned on by a woman like her?—but there was something else he couldn’t pin down. Maybe it had sprung from the shared chuckle over Karen’s crazy plan.
A plan that was definitely growing on him. Oh, yeah, he could buy into being Jude’s Secret Santa gift. She must’ve told Karen she was looking for some action. His cock swelled as he imagined her unwrapping him.
And vice versa.
He tossed his coat back on the chair and followed her into the living room.
The first thing he noticed was what wasn’t there. No tree, no Christmas decorations, no cards on the mantel, not even a poinsettia.
The room was cozy and appealing, though. Flames in the gas fireplace. A plush couch, love seat, and chair upholstered in chocolate fabric. Framed photos of flowers, shelves of books, a nice entertainment system. The flat-screen TV was playing CSI. The original Vegas one. In contrast to the crime show, a mug and a pile of knitting sat on the coffee table beside a vase of sweet-smelling orange and yellow flowers.
She clicked off the TV. “What would you like to drink?”
“Anything but eggnog.” Nick wasn’t in the mood for it—not after the send-off party.
“There’s none of that in the house. How about red wine?”
“Great.”
“I’ll get it. Why don’t you put on some music?”
Nick browsed her CD collection. Light jazz and romantic songs, hip-hop, classic rock, even rap. But, strangely, no Christmas music. He picked up Michael Bublé’s Call Me Irresponsible and ran his eye down the tracks. “The Best is Yet to Come,” “It Had Better Be Tonight,” “I’m Your Man,” “Wonderful Tonight”…Oh, yeah, this should set the mood.
Jude came back with an open wine bottle and two glasses. Banrock Station Shiraz. She held out a glass, unsmiling.
He came over to her. This close, he was very aware of her height and curvy body. If he reached out and pulled her into his arms, all she’d have to do was tilt her head and he could kiss her. Her breasts would brush his chest and—man, his cock was hardening again. Didn’t help that her scent, like roses and peaches mixed together, was drifting over to him.
He clicked his glass against hers. “To meeting each other.”
Her cinnamon-spice eyes searched his, and she didn’t sound convinced when she echoed, “To meeting each other.”
After they’d both sipped, he sank onto the couch, tugging her with him. “Look, let’s not kill Karen. And let’s forget about the Secret Santa thing and pretend we’re two strangers who met all on our own and kinda like each other. Enough to spend an evening and, you know…”
Her lips tipped up a little at the corners. “See where things go?”
“Yeah. No pressure, no expectations. Okay?”
She studied him some more. The tension eased from her face, and a smile grew. “Okay. But wherever it does go, we’re agreed on no strings attached, right?”
He raised his glass in another toast. “For sure.”