Wicked Christmas Nights. Leslie Kelly
they would. It was fast, and utterly surprising and the timing was pretty bad. But she already had the feeling this sexy, hardworking guy was someone special. And even if the timing was all wrong, she might be the one with lifelong regrets if she didn’t at least give this more time to play out.
“So, do you always go around telling strangers about your sex life?” he asked.
She played with her coffee cup, tracing her fingers on its rim, not meeting his eyes. “You’re the first,” she admitted. Hoping she wouldn’t reveal too much, she shrugged and added, “You just don’t seem like a stranger.”
He didn’t. She felt like she was already starting to know him, or at least know the essence of him. The physical attraction had been instant. But there was so much more. Earlier, when she’d mentioned her parents, there’d been that warmth, the smile, the tender looks, that ever-so-gentle brush of his fingers against her hand. Then there was his reaction to her having been cheated on. His indignance over her lost Christmas present.
All those things told a story. A nice one. A good one.
A story she wanted to explore a little more. Or a lot more.
“Okay then, if we’re not strangers, I guess that means we’re friends,” he told her with a tender smile. Then, without explanation, he pushed the chair back and stood up. She wasn’t sure what he intended—to leave, to ask her out?—until he extended a hand to her.
“So, come on, friend. Let’s go reclaim your Christmas present.”
CONSIDERING HOW beautiful Lucy was, Ross didn’t expect her ex to be a total dog, even if he was a total dick. There had to have been something she’d found attractive about the guy. And even though he hadn’t known her long, he already felt pretty sure it hadn’t been the money. She just didn’t seem the type. There wasn’t a fake thing about her…and he should know. He’d looked. Hard.
Hell, it had been impossible not to look, not to try to get to know everything about her. Sitting across from each other at that coffee shop, they’d fallen into an easy, laid-back conversation that it had taken him a half-dozen meetings to achieve with other girls. Then things had gone from warm and friendly to hot and expectant.
He shouldn’t have started thinking about Lucy’s sex life, much less talking about it. Because it was damned hard to get it out of his mind—or to stop wondering about that look she’d had in her eye during the long silence they’d shared.
Walking outside to drop off his tools in his truck, then to the subway so they could ride up to her dopey ex’s neighborhood, he found himself more surprised by her with every move she made.
She never stopped talking, but didn’t jabber about stupid, inane stuff. He didn’t once hear the word shoes. Or makeup. Or shopping.
She talked about the city—how much she loved the energy of it, the pace, the excitement.
She stopped to take pictures—things that would never occur to him to be interesting, like a pile of trash bags or an old rusty bike against a fence.
She talked about her plans to go to Europe after she graduated, to photograph anything that moved and lots of things that didn’t.
She bought one of those disgusting hot dogs off a cart, and actually ate the thing.
She passed a five dollar bill to a homeless guy. She also dropped another five into a bell-ringer’s bucket, even as she admitted she didn’t really like Christmas, claiming her favorite response to anyone’s “Merry Christmas,” was “Bah, humbug!”
He had a hard time buying that one. She was too cute and sweet and generous to be a Scrooge. But he did see the shadow in her expression whenever she talked about the holiday and suspected she was serious about disliking it.
Other than that, though, she laughed a lot. She smiled at strangers. She turned her face up to meet the softly falling snow and licked its moisture off her lips. Sweet laugh, beautiful smile, sexy lips.
All in all, aside from totally attracting him, she charmed him. It was an old-fashioned description, but it fit. Lucy was, quite simply, charming. Plus adorable. And hot as hell. Every minute he spent with her made him like her even more…and made him more determined to ensure her cheating ex didn’t get the chance to hurt her again.
She was, in short, fantastic. So, no, he definitely didn’t see her hooking up with someone who had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. This Jude guy, who lived in a high-rise building with apartments that probably cost five times the rent in his own tiny place, had to have something to attract someone like Lucy.
Then he met the loser, face-to-face, and understood.
Jude Zacharias was spoiled, handsome and smooth—one of those old-money types whose family name probably hadn’t been tainted by the stench of real work for a few generations. But the main thing about him, the thing that would suck in any girl, was the earnest charm.
He laid it on thick from the minute he answered the door and saw Lucy. He even managed to work up a couple of tears in his eyes as he told her how sorry he was that he’d let some skank trick him into doing something bad—ha—how much he wished he could take it back and how glad he was that she’d returned.
Then he spotted Ross, who’d been hovering just out of sight, near the hallway wall.
“Who the fuck is he?”
Stepping forward, Ross said, “He the fuck is Lucy’s friend, Ross. We’re here to pick up the package she left behind. Now, would you get it, please? We’re in a hurry.”
Yeah. Not because he had errands to run, but because he was in a rush to get Lucy away from this prick who’d hurt her, even if it had been her pride, not her heart that had been dinged. Honestly, he’d wanted to rip the guy’s hand off when he’d actually reached out and tried to touch her. Fortunately, Lucy had stepped aside, out of reach.
The guy’s jaw hit his chest. He gaped, then sputtered, finally saying, “Who are you?”
Ross looked at Lucy and shrugged. “Is he brain damaged or something? Like I said, I’m Ross. I’m here to make sure you give Lucy her package, and that you don’t try anything.”
“Lucy, are you serious? Did you bring this guy to throw in my face, make me jealous or something?” He reached for her hand. “Babe, you don’t have to do that, you know I’ll take you back.”
“Dude, get over it. You’ve been dumped,” Ross said.
Jude’s glare would have fried an egg. “Mind your own damn business. Why the hell are you here anyway?”
Lucy stepped between them. “Ross is a friend.”
“Yeah, sure, right. How long has he been your…friend?”
She tapped a finger on her lips, as if thinking about it, then cast a quick, mischievous glance toward Ross. “Oh, about an hour now.”
Jude sputtered. Lucy ignored him.
“He just wanted to come along in case you decided to be a jerk about my package.”
The guy sneered. “Oh, yeah? And what’s he gonna do if I say you can’t have it?”
Ross’s fingers curled into fists and his jaw tightened. He took a step toward the door. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever felt this anxious to punch someone but he didn’t think so. Something about hearing the way this little asshole talked to Lucy brought out the overprotective he-man in him.
She put up a hand, stopping him. “It’s okay. Jude, please don’t be a pain about this. Can I just have my package?” She reached into her purse and pulled out a key ring. “And here, you should have this back.”
He snatched the key out of her hand, cast one more glare at Ross, then stepped back into the apartment. He returned a few seconds later, shoving a small, paper-wrapped carton toward her. It was mashed, dirty, slightly torn.
Lucy