Hunk for the Holidays (9 page)

“Not at all, dear. Do you need some help?”

Cassie held up a hand. “Nope, I think I’ve got it.”

James chuckled as he led her from the room. In the hallway, he slipped his jacket off and over her shoulders. “Where’s your purse?”

“Right here.” She held up the purse. She had secured it around her body with the little hidden strap about an hour earlier. She might be drunk, but she was no dummy—just a liar about what she had done with a whole lot of condoms.

A blast of wind and snow flurries greeted them when James opened the front door. He shielded her from most of the snow with his body as he maneuvered her down the steps, which was just fine and dandy with her. The lights on the trees sparkled around them, and she could hear the faint notes of “Silent Night” along with the slow and steady thump of his heart next to her ear.

“Be careful,” he said. “The sidewalk’s slick.”

The warning came about a second too late. Cassie’s heels slid out from under her. And instead of being her Prince Charming and rescuing her, James lost his footing and fell along with her. He turned his body to take most of the impact, which wasn’t much considering the ground was covered with snow.

“Damn slick shoes,” James grumbled, before he leaned over her. “Are you all right?”

He looked so cute with snow capping his dark brown hair and sticking to his long eyelashes. She laughed.

He flashed his dimples. “I’m freezing, you know.”

She melted in those whiskey eyes. “I’m not.”

“Probably because you have enough alcohol in you to fuel the entire state of Colorado.” He brushed snow off her cheeks and chin, his warm fingers a stark contrast to the cold. A chunk of ice slipped into the crease of her lips, and she licked it off. The color of his eyes deepened to a molten gold.

“We probably should get up before your brothers look out and wonder what I’m doing with their sister.” He didn’t move.

She nodded, but she couldn’t find any words. Except maybe,
Oh, James the Flame, come on and kiss me
. He must’ve heard her silent plea because he bent his head and brushed his lips against hers. Briefly. Way too briefly. Then he was on his feet and lifting her to hers. She quickly sank down into snow up to her knees.

James hesitated for only a second before he dipped a shoulder and hoisted her up over it. All the blood rushed to her head. She bounced against his back and watched the way his butt flexed as he crunched over the snow-covered yard.

“I’m sorry, but I’m a little more stable this way,” he said.

“Okeydoke,” she grunted, finding it very hard to talk when upside down.

The cold sobered her. At least a little. Enough to where she didn’t feel so giddy anymore, just hot and dizzy. When they arrived at his Land Rover, he set her down and reached in his pocket for the keys. The locks clicked up, and before she knew it, she was inside with her seat belt
on. The guy was quick. So quick she had barely gotten to enjoy his snowy kiss. But there would be others. She smiled. Before the night was over, she planned on getting a lot more.

He opened the door, then took the time to stomp the snow from his shoes before climbing in. Once inside, he started the truck and cranked up the heat. “Hang in there. It’ll be warm in a minute.” He popped the gear into drive and pulled away from the curb. “Are you okay?”

“I’m horny.” It was one of her great-aunt Wheezie’s words, but it pretty much described the way she felt.

The Land Rover swerved, barely missing the bumper of Jake’s Lexus. James applied the brakes and looked over at her. “No, Cassie, you’re drunk. Now, tell me where you live so I can take you home.”

“Okay.” She tried to sit up straighter, but somewhere between the house and his truck, her spine had evaporated, and it seemed she no longer had any control over her muscles. Her head flopped over to one side. Fortunately, it was the side he was on. “But when we get there, I want sex. With you.”

In the open collar of his white shirt, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Look, Cassandra, believe me there’s nothing I’d like more than to have sex with you. But—”

“Good, ’cause it’s been eighteen months.”

“Eighteen months?” He had some kind of a stranglehold on the steering wheel as he stared at her, and she wondered what it had done to make him so mad. She shook her head to clear her thoughts but succeeded only in making herself dizzier.

“Are you trying to tell me you haven’t had sex in eighteen months?” he said.

“Yep.” She tried to nod, but couldn’t quite pull it off. “Not since Mike tried to squeeze into my undies.”

“Your old boyfriend wore your underwear?”

She giggled. “No, silly. Just my Christmas stockings.” Or something like that. She was really having a hard time keeping her thoughts organized.

Sighing, James released the brake. “Okay, wildcat, tell me where you live.”

“By the office.”

“Where by the office?” He stopped at a stop sign.

“So you’re going to have sex with me?”

“Eventually.”

“Nope. Tonight.” She tried to cross her arms, but along with her head, they were too heavy and awkward to move. “I paid for tonight, and I’m ready tonight. Besides, my shower needs a break.”

“Your shower?” He scrubbed his hand through his hair, which made it stand straight up in a cute kind of way.

She loved his hair and really wanted to touch it, but all she could do was sit like a puddle in the seat. Which wasn’t good. How could she enjoy a night of wild, passionate sex if she couldn’t lift her hands? Or her head or her legs? Even her eyeballs had started to have a will of their own.

“Look.” He glanced over for a second and then returned his eyes to the road. “I like you, Cassie.”

She tried to grin, but her lips had gone numb. Suddenly she didn’t feel so good. In fact, she felt just like she had on prom night. Uh-oh. She rolled her head over to the
window and rested it against the cold glass. She tried to focus on the houses outside. Tried to remind herself that throwing up in James’s SUV wasn’t going to help break her eighteen-month dry spell. But then the truck picked up speed, and all those beautiful homes with Christmas lights blazing became one eye-crossing, stomach-swirling blur.

“But there are a few things we need to get straight before we continue,” James said. But there was only one thing Cassie wanted to get straight.

“Stop!”

Fortunately, this time he took orders well. The Land Rover slid to a stop by the curb just as Cassie opened the door and leaned out. She wasn’t sure how long she bent over the snow-covered gutter, throwing her guts up. It seemed like hours.

Slowly, she sat up and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of his tux. Something was frozen to her lips. She scrubbed it off, then flopped back against the seat, her stomach one tight knot. Her head throbbed from all the blood that had rushed to it, and her mouth tasted fishy. Oh, God, shrimp.

“Get me to a bathroom,” she ordered. “Now!”

He chuckled. “Whatever you say.” He reached across her and slammed the door before pulling away from the curb.

With her hands clutching her stomach, she stared straight ahead and focused all her attention on keeping the rest of the shrimp in her stomach and not on the floor of his Land Rover. It seemed like it took forever before he pulled into a driveway. Not a driveway she recognized, but at that point, she really didn’t care whose it was as long as it had a bathroom.

The garage door took its good, sweet time in opening, and James took almost as much time pulling in. Once they were stopped, Cassie didn’t wait for an invitation. She was out the door and into the house before he had even cut the engine.

She didn’t have a clue where she was going. She just staggered through the kitchen and down the hallway, dropping his jacket on the way. The master suite loomed at the end. A master bedroom that would, no doubt, have a master bath. She made it to the bathroom in the nick of time, kneeling in front of the toilet and getting rid of the last of the shrimp.

A few moments later, she sat back on the floor and leaned against the wall. A movement had her glancing up to see James standing in the doorway, looking breathtaking in his tuxedo shirt and smile. His eyes twinkled as merrily as any Christmas tree.

“So I’m going to assume that sex is out.”

Chapter Seven

James pulled the bathroom door closed behind him and tugged off his tie. The bedroom blinds were open, and he could see the snow falling in the faint glow of the streetlight. It was coming down pretty good, but it didn’t concern him. Having grown up in Pittsburgh, he’d had plenty of practice driving in deep snow. He dropped the tie on the dresser, then yawned as he unclasped his watch.

The noise coming from the bathroom sounded a little like a coughing seal and pretty much wiped out the last of his lustful thoughts. James should’ve been disappointed that the evening hadn’t turned out the way he’d planned. He wasn’t. Despite the throwing up, he’d thoroughly enjoyed himself. He had expected his biggest competitors to be an arrogant bunch of assholes. Instead, the McPhersons were a group of people he would welcome as friends. There was Jake, the serious businessman who got all
misty-eyed when he talked about his wife and four kids. Rory, the easygoing mediator of the family, who kept his hotheaded brothers from killing one another. Patrick, the quiet, watchful one, who seemed more skeptical of James than the others. And Matthew, the jokester and flirt of the group. Like a rambunctious puppy, Matthew raced around vying for attention from all the women. From the look of things, women were more than willing to give it to him.

Still, it was Cassandra who was responsible for the majority of the evening’s enjoyment. Just being in the same room with her made him smile. Not that she had spent a lot of time with him.

After the phenomenal kiss in the greenhouse, he had returned to the party to find warm, aggressive Cassandra had turned back into the ice princess. Every time he moved over to a group she was in, she left. He allowed her little cat-and-mouse game, mostly because he enjoyed watching her. The woman knew how to work a crowd. Moving from group to group, she spoke to masons or steelworkers the same way she spoke to wealthy clients, with a natural ease and genuine respect.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that she looked as hot as hell in the slinky red dress and high heels. Or that after a couple glasses of champagne, she started to loosen up. If a tightly wound Cassandra was hard to resist, it was nothing compared to a laughing, teasing Cassandra. Her laughter drew men like mosquitoes to a bug light, and before long, she was surrounded by a bunch of horny guys James had to wade through in order to reach her. He thought she might protest when he took her hand and pulled her from the
group. Instead, she’d clung to his arm and smiled up at him in a way that had him heading toward the door.

Unfortunately, on their way through the living room, Mr. Lovelady had stopped them to ask James where he’d gotten his tux and then proceeded to give a detailed account of his Mexican cruise plans for the holidays. Meanwhile, Cassandra had dug her grave with the last two glasses of champagne.

James sat down on his king-sized bed and ran a hand through his hair. His plan had been to end the stupid charade he was playing and tell her the truth, in hopes that they could then move on to sex. But he couldn’t very well spill his guts when she was spilling hers. Which meant sex would have to wait. For now, he would take her home and tuck her into her bed with only a brief kiss to warm him. Then tomorrow, bright and early, he would arrive at her house and break the news. Hopefully, her hangover wouldn’t be so bad that she killed him on the spot. He grinned. She did have a temper. He just had to make sure there were no sharp instruments within reach.

The puking noises from the bathroom stopped, and other noises took their place. The squeak and pump of a shower being turned on. Damn, the woman had balls. He laughed as he flopped back on the bed and tucked a pillow under his head. It didn’t matter. He could wait. Hell, he’d waited most of the night. What was another hour?

Staring up at the shadowy ceiling, his mind became consumed with thoughts of a slinky red dress slipping down a firm, gorgeous body. He closed his eyes and let the fantasy play out. Unfortunately, somewhere between
the shower spraying over hard nipples and soapy hands gliding over firm round breasts, he fell asleep.

Much later, he awoke. He felt warm and—his brain struggled to shake off the last traces of sleep—oh yeah, and turned on. He felt extremely turned on. It wasn’t unusual. He often woke up with a morning erection. He probably just needed to pee. Without much thought, he reached down to make an adjustment and scratch his balls. Unfortunately, someone beat him to it. Not the ball scratching, but the adjusting. Except it didn’t compare to any morning adjustments he’d ever done. Like a fantasy straight out of
Penthouse Forum
, a warm hand encased him and stroked up and down his rigid shaft.

His eyes popped open.

Sunlight streamed in through the blinds. He blinked from its brilliance, then tried to focus. It took only a moment. A moment that had him wondering if he was still fantasizing. A woman rested between his legs. And not rested exactly. More like—