“We
don’t have time to talk about it,” the older woman said as she helped Cat out
of the fur coat. “We have just been presented with the perfect opportunity to
put our plan into action.”
Great,
Estelle and Chloe had a plan. Cat tugged the sweater’s neckline higher. Her
sister may like to show off her girls, but Cat’s were going undercover. And
since she didn’t want Estelle to blow her
cover, she hoped the older woman enlightened her about their plan.
They
were a few feet from the table where Harry stood looking deliciously edible
when Nell waved a gingerbread man in the air. “Get a kiss with your cookies,
ladies. Two dollars for a kiss and a cookie.”
A
horde of women stampeded in their direction.
“Make
it count, my dear,” Estelle murmured, shoving Cat at the table.
The
push caused Cat to wobble on her heels. If not for Harry reaching across the
table, encircling her biceps with his strong hands, she would have fallen on
her face. Something her sister would never do. So it was imperative that Cat
put on a believable performance. She fluffed her hair, did a flirty head tilt,
and batted her fake eyelashes.
“I’ll
take two, Harry.” She puckered her lips.
His
mouth flattened, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw. Then he leaned toward
her. It’s possible he said bloody hell
under his breath as he lowered his head, but she couldn’t be sure because
everything went a little fuzzy the moment his warm, firm lips touched hers. She
tasted mint, smelled his expensive cologne, and drew closer, placing her hands
on his shoulders to avoid toppling over. Okay, so it was an excuse, but she was
sure her sister would have taken advantage of the situation in exactly the same
way.
Her
mouth softened, her fingers tightening on his broad shoulders as her lips
parted. She was just getting into the kiss, and it was some kiss, when his
mouth left hers. He took what appeared to be a startled step back. She
understood the reaction—the kiss had rocked her world, too.
“Hang
on, I need a picture for the Chronicle,” Nell said, putting down the cookie to
pick up her cell phone. “Okay, go for it.”
In
the background, she heard George saying something to Phil about breaking his
promise. Harry looked over her head, then back at her. An emotion she couldn’t
read darkened his blue eyes, then he brought his hands to the sides of her face
and did as Nell suggested. He went for it.
Gently
tilting her head so his lips slanted over hers at a precise angle, he gave her
a deep, passionate kiss. It was long and lush, and breath-stealingly perfect.
Her eyes were still closed, her head tipped up, when she realized she was
kissing air. Blinking her eyes open, she stared at him. Acting as though he was
completely unaffected, as if he hadn’t felt the same emotional rush of desire,
he handed her two cookies.
If
that was a kiss from an uninterested man, she’d eat . . .
“That
will be four dollars, Chloe.” His words were cool and clipped, his back ramrod
straight.
And
her heart, that seconds ago had been dancing to a happy beat, froze. It wasn’t
her he was kissing. It was her sister.
She came to a halt at the threshold of the kitchen, her breath
clogging in her throat.
Part of it was shock over the fact that Connor was leaning over the
countertop inhaling one of her cupcakes. The other part, and the part she was
having trouble reconciling, was the fact that there was a tear beneath one of
the pockets of his jeans, and the slash of skin she was currently staring at
was his bare ass.
He stood, chewing and smiling with his lips closed. She knew
because she hastily redirected her gaze to his face. The way he licked the
frosting off the corner of his mouth and lifted his brow suggested he may have
caught her eyeballing something she shouldn’t.
“Tore them on a nail on the fence this morning.” He turned to look
over his shoulder, splitting the tear with his fingers to show her a faint red
scratch on one chiseled butt cheek. “Hurt like a bitch.” His eyes found hers
and he gave her a sly smile. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to patch me up.”
She choked on her laughter, shaking her head for effect. “I don’t think
so,” she said, trying to sound disgusted and not turned on.
His smile erased as his brow went down like she’d hurt his feelings.
“You would deny me medical care in my moment of need?”
Flustered, she stepped past him and snatched the small white box
off the counter, determined to change the subject. “I hope you know you owe me
a cupcake.”
“Cupcake, I took that in payment for the kiss you
never gave me.”
So he didn’t forget.
“You’d rather have a carrot cupcake than a kiss?” Her pulse pounded
against her neck. She knew which one she would prefer, and hoped she was doing
a good job hiding it.
“Hmm…” He made a show of craning his neck to look at the remaining
cupcake in the bottom of the box. “It was a pretty good cupcake.”
Her mouth opened in argument, but the argument never came. And the
reason it never came was because Connor covered her lips with his, launching
his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg from the
frosting, and his mouth, which tasted wonderful because it tasted like him.
The smell of lavender filled her senses, that earthy, spicy smell mingling in
her nostrils and making her lean into him. Cupping the back of his neck, she tilted
her chin, continuing their sparring session with fervor.
Noses bumped, his unshaven chin scraped her jaw, and his hands—his
big, manly, rough hands—grasped her at the waist and pulled her flush against
him.
This went on until finally, she had to pull back to inhale or
suffocate. Not a bad way to go, she’d admit. Now she was panting and trying to
recalibrate her brain cells, which had apparently oozed right out of her ears
since Connor put his mouth on hers.
He looked as dazed as she did for a second before his smile snapped
into place. “Nope. That was much better than the cupcake.”
“Am I a vampire?”
He chuckled at the joke
and smoothed the damp hair off her forehead.
“No. I don’t change my victims .
. . I just snack on them.” She didn’t
crack a smile, but her shoulders relaxed, bringing his attention back to the
welt. “How badly are you hurt?”
Her hand went to the
marks on her neck. “Surprisingly, it
didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”
Patrick felt his face
heat with embarrassment. “I’m
sorry. I forgot about the fangs.”
Her gaze flickered to
his mouth, and damned if he didn’t get hard again. “Well, I guess since you didn’t . . . umm . .
. overindulge, it’s not a big deal.”
Overindulge? Oh, he wanted
to overindulge. Especially with those
phenomenal breasts just a reach away.
But he wasn’t that big of a jerk.
“So can you tell me what happened?
Are there any other victims?”
“No. No
one else was in the car with me when Big Foot—I mean, a deer jumped out in
front of the car. I would’ve been okay
if my brakes had worked properly. It was
almost like someone had tampered with—” She paused, and her eyes widened. “Mr. Darby.”
She glanced at the door. “And
he’s probably the one who flattened your tire.”
Patrick started to wonder if she wasn’t
suffering from a concussion. She seemed
to be talking in circles. Of course,
most women talked in circles. “I thought
you said no one was in the car with you.
Who is Mr. Darby?”
“No one was in the car with me. Mr. Darby is the guy who’s trying to k—” She
stopped and cleared her throat. “Never
mind. It’s not important. So you were saying?”
His brow knotted. Why couldn’t women be as easy to read as a
blueprint? He released his breath in a
sigh. “I was wondering how badly you were
injured.”
“I’m fine now.
I was just a little lightheaded before.”
She sat up to prove it, bringing her full pouting lips inches from
his. He might not be able to read her,
but he sure as hell desired her. He had
never wanted to kiss a woman so badly in his life. It was like her lips were magnetized and he
was solid metal. But before he could
kiss her, she got to her feet and started picking up the items that had spilled
out of her purse. Since there was a lot
of crap, he knelt down to help her.
“So what are you doing up here?” he asked as he
lifted her wallet and handed it to her. “I’m
assuming by the costume that you were coming back from a party.”
There was a slight hesitation before she
nodded. “And I got lost.” She leaned over to reach the tube of lipstick
that had slid under the coffee table, and her breasts swelled forth in twin
mounds of bodacious beauty. “So if you
can’t take me back to Denver, do you think you could get me to a working
phone?”
It took her grabbing
the lipstick and straightening before he could talk. “I could if I didn’t have a flat tire.” Now that his temper had cooled, he realized
that she wouldn’t have had time to flatten his tire. He probably ran over a nail at one of the
jobsites, and it had been slowly leaking air all day.
“Don’t you know how to fix it?” she asked.
“Yes, but I’m not going to do it in a
blizzard.” He picked up her phone and
tried it. There was still no reception
so he tapped the screen closed. A
screensaver picture of two people popped up.
Patrick didn’t know why he was more interested in the skinny guy than
the pretty, dark-haired woman. Or maybe
he knew why, but just wasn’t willing to admit it.
“Are you married?” he asked.
“Not yet.
I’m still working on it.” Before
he could figure out what that meant, she got up and took the phone and her
purse from him. “So if you’re not going
to fix the tire, just what am I supposed to do?”
In heels, or at least in one heel, she was only
a few inches shorter than he was and sturdily built. He realized that he liked that about
her. He was tired of petite women he had
to worry about breaking. This woman
looked like she could handle a man who liked things a little rough. And since she wasn’t married, was in no way
connected to his aunt’s schemes, and was here . . .
Patrick smiled.
“You’re going to spend the night with me.”
“What?” she
squeaked. “I can’t spend the entire
night with a . . .”
“Patrick.” He held out his hand. “And you are?”
She swallowed hard
before answering. “In big trouble.”
