Hunk for the Holidays (8 page)

“Doubtful. If his tall, gorgeous wives haven’t been able to do it, I don’t think some short ordinary woman could.”

“Ahh, but there’s nothing ordinary about you, Amy.” He slipped into the chair across from her and studied her. “Especially according to my family. Since I’ve gotten back from Chicago, all I’ve heard about is how wonderful little Amy is. A true paragon of virtue and strength. Even Patrick loves you, and he’s a hard sell.” He leaned forward. “But what I can’t figure out is why Matt still likes you after you dumped him.”

“I didn’t dump him.” She recapped a bottle of tequila that had been left on the table and lined it up with an empty beer bottle and two shot glasses. “Mattie is like my little brother.”

“Really? Somehow I don’t think a paragon of virtue passionately kisses their little brother.”

She stopped organizing the glassware and looked up at him. “I never—” She hesitated. Wait a minute; there had been that time at the company picnic. Mattie had helped himself to a few beers and was feeling froggy. He’d taken her for a walk and then kissed her. She was too surprised to do anything but stand there and let him. It was only after his tongue dipped into her mouth that she brought it to a halt. Afterward, they’d both laughed about how weird it felt. And it was never repeated. Or witnessed.

Or so she thought.

“How did you know about that?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed. “Were you following us?”

“No,” he stated, but his face gave him away. Redheads couldn’t hide a blush. He cleared his throat and looked away. “It was stupidity. Plain and simple stupidity. I knew Matt was sneaking beer, and I thought he might get out of hand.” He shook his head. “Although I don’t know why I felt so protective considering the fact that for the last month you’d treated me like the plague. I guess I was as fooled as everyone else by your little innocent act. It took me seeing you kiss my little brother before the truth sank in. How could a girl who had a baby out of wedlock be innocent?” He looked back at her. “Answer: She couldn’t.”

“I never pretended to be innocent.” She jerked up a cocktail napkin and furiously wiped off the table.

“Bullshit. What would you call all those hot, little blushes and wide-eyed looks you sent me? I have to give it to you. You had the act down cold. But what I never figured out is why you used all your skill on me, then when I fell for it hook, line, and sinker, dropped me for Mattie.”

“Dropped you?” She stopped scrubbing and stared at him. “How could I possibly drop you when I never even had you in the first place? You were dating, soon to marry Tess. Or don’t you remember? And she made it perfectly clear you weren’t about to have anything to do with someone like me.”

“She what?”

Amy clamped her mouth shut and went back to wiping off the table. There was one very stubborn spot of plant fungus that refused to come out.

Before she could get it, Rory grabbed her hand. “Answer me. Are you telling me Tess warned you against dating me?”

She stared at the hand that completely covered hers. It was dusted with freckles and there was a scab on one knuckle. Inside the cocoon of his warmth, her hand thawed like a Popsicle on hot pavement.

“It doesn’t matter, Rory… not anymore.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he refused to let go. Instead, he stood and pulled her to her feet.

“It matters to me.”

He was so close she could smell the clean, fresh laundry scent of him. See the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. Feel the heat that emanated from him like a fire on a cold wintry night. Funny, but even with him being a good head taller, she didn’t feel claustrophobic. She felt happy and content. All she wanted to do was wrap her arms around his broad shoulders and melt against his chest. Instead, she lifted her gaze and melted into the green of his eyes.

It took her a moment to find her voice, a moment when she remembered who she was and who he was. “Yes, she warned me against seeing you. She said you would never be interested in someone like me. And she was right. You were never really interested in me, Rory. I was just the new girl at work. Someone to pass the time with.”

There was anger, confusion, and a touch of something else in his eyes as he stared down at her. Need? Desire? His mouth opened, then shut. His hands tightened into fists at his sides as the color of his face deepened. She didn’t know what she expected him to say, but it certainly wasn’t what he ended up saying.

“Shit.”

Then he jerked her up to meet his descending mouth.

There were kisses, and then there were kisses. This was a kiss that completely obliterated all other kisses that had come before it. Passion, heat, and urgent need were all communicated through a set of firm, wet, devouring lips. There was no mistaking the message they sent.

Rory wanted her.

Now.

Balanced on the toes of her high heels, Amy absorbed all the heat and need like a dry sponge dunked in hot, soapy water. She slipped her hands beneath his jacket and sent back a message of her own.

Take me. I’m yours.

Except he didn’t.

Take her.

Instead, he pulled away.

Slowly she drifted back to earth and opened her eyes.

Rory was no longer looking at her, but at something behind her. His hands tightened convulsively on her arms as if they were having trouble releasing her; then they dropped to his sides, and he took a step back.

“Amy?”

It took a few seconds for her to realize it wasn’t Rory saying her name. She turned to see Derek walking toward them with a puzzled look on his face.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice no longer puzzled. Just angry.

“Nothing,” she croaked. It didn’t sound very convincing, especially when her hands still rested on Rory’s chest.

She removed them. But before she could stop herself, she
straightened his tie, brushed off the shoulders of his jacket, and reached up to smooth back the strand of strawberry-blond hair that fell across his forehead. He caught her hand in his before she finished the task. His gaze fused with hers a second before he released her.

The spot where his hand had touched hers felt branded. No, correction. Everywhere he had touched her felt branded. She jerked her gaze away from him, worried that if she didn’t she might just incinerate right there on the floor of the mildewy greenhouse. Which would at least eliminate the need for an explanation.

If Amy thought she was speechless before, it was nothing compared to what she felt as she turned and looked at Derek. But what do you say to a man who just proposed to you and came back for your answer only to find you in the arms of another man?

Oops?

She cleared her throat, prepared to take full responsibility for her actions. But then Rory stepped between her and Derek. He weaved on his feet and waved a hand through the air. “Ssssorry—buddy.” His words were heavily slurred. “But…” He pointed to a piece of mistletoe hanging in the doorway a good twenty feet away. “ ’Tisss the season, ya know.”

All the anger drained out of Derek’s face, and he laughed. “I thought all you McPhersons could hold your liquor.” He shook his head. “Go home and sleep it off, Rory. Just don’t grab any more unsuspecting women on the way out. By the looks of things, you’ve embarrassed Amy to death.”

Rory swiveled around, took a few steps closer, and
bowed. “My deepest a-ppologies.” When he lifted his head, for just a second, his eyes met hers. In them, she saw something that took her breath away.

His lips moved, forming two words.

Say no.

Then he winked and was gone.

Chapter Six

The world was spinning. A wonderful, giddy world filled with good friends, yummy shrimp hors d’oeuvres, cheerful Christmas carols, and one handsome hunka-hunka-burnin’-love. Snuggling down into the couch cushions, Cassie took another sip of her seventh—or would that be eighth?—glass of champagne. Normally, she didn’t drink champagne. Why was that? Oh, yeah, ’cause the bubbles went straight to her head. Beer. She could handle beer. And whiskey. Aunt Louise had taught her all about whiskey. But champagne. Nope, she couldn’t handle it at all.

On prom night, she’d thrown up all over poor Todd Birmingham after she’d slipped out of her prom dress in the back of the limo and offered him her virginity. He’d declined, but only because he was worried about the vomit on his rental tux. She looked up at the man who
stood right next to the couch. James would look delish in a tuxedo. Wait a minute; he was in a tuxedo, and he did look delish. Crap, she was drunk.

She giggled, and James glanced down at her. She winked at him as she continued to drink her champagne. His brow arched, and he studied her for a few seconds before he turned back to the discussion he was having with Brady Lovelady.

Brady Lovelady. Now, that was funny.

She stifled another giggle and then leaned back against the couch cushions. From that angle, she could really study her delicious escort. Wow, he was hot. She loved his eyes. And that perfectly straight nose. And those lips that had melted her insides like her grandma’s grilled cheese. And his hands. She really liked his hands. They were workman hands. Big and rough. But gentle… very gentle.

A shiver ran through her body at the thought of those gentle, rough hands spanning her waist, gliding up over her spine, and running through her hair while his lips devoured her. Yep, she loved those hands. Her gaze wandered down his body and back up. She pretty much liked the entire package. And every sexy inch was hers—all hers. At least for one night. Five hundred dollars for one night. Wow, what a bargain. She giggled again, and Mrs. Applegate stared at her from the other side of the couch.

“Too much to drink, dear?”

“Nope. I’m a McPherson. We can really hold our li-liq-er.” She tried to take another sip to prove her point, but one of those big, gentle hands took the glass away from her. She looked up. But his attention had returned to Brady Lovelady.

Okay, so maybe she couldn’t hold her liquor worth beans. At least, not champagne. But she figured she had every right. She was going to give the old showerhead a break tonight. Tonight, after eighteen long months, she would get laid. And if the thought of giving her virginity to a skinny, high school boy had wigged her out, the thought of lying naked in a bed with an experienced and very hot manly man really got her jumpy.

That was where the champagne had come in.

What started out as a couple of glasses to relax her nerves, especially after the kiss in the greenhouse, had turned into a few more when he’d followed her back into the house and proceeded to charm the hell out of every man, woman, and family member. The man had an unbelievable wealth of knowledge, along with a quick wit and a good sense of humor. Which was why it hadn’t taken him very long to win over her family. He had talked golf with Rory, politics with Jake, and swapped college rugby stories with Patrick and Mattie until they were in tears laughing. He didn’t have to talk about much for Melanie and Amy to drool over him. Of course, after her last high-heel-wearing, pumpkin-bread-toting boyfriend, Cassie really couldn’t blame them.

So there she sat with her spike heels lost somewhere beneath the couch, her lipstick all licked off, and not a drink in sight, wishing that the guy—her guy—would quit socializing and take her home to bed. What was that line from
Top Gun
? It was one of Jake’s all-time favorite movies; she should remember it. If her mind wasn’t all fogged up with bubbles, she would have. Meg Ryan had said it to that guy from
ER.
Wait, she had it.

“Hey, Moose, you big stud.”

James stopped talking and looked down at her. Both eyebrows lifted.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever,” she said.
Or was it Goose, you big moose?

“Oookay, then,” James said before he turned back to Mr. Lovelady. “It looks like I better get Cassandra home. Nice meeting you, sir.” He shook the old guy’s hand.

Mr. Lovelady grinned as if he knew something Cassie didn’t. “Been there myself, son. More than a few times.”

“Can you walk?” The question came from her guy.

“Of course I can walk.” She didn’t move.

He shook his head. “Where are your shoes?”

“Forget ’em. They are h-horribly painful.” She would give them to Mike for one of his smaller-footed friends.

James bent down and reached beneath the couch, bringing his chest against her knees. It was too much to resist. She ran her fingers through his hair, around his ear, down his strong neck to the bow tie she had tied herself. She gave it a tug. Mrs. Applegate coughed. Cassie ignored her and slipped the top button out, then a stud. But before she could get further, James grabbed her hand.

“Enough, princess.” He moved back and slid her shoes on her feet.

She sighed. Her Prince Charming for one night. Just one night.

One night? She had to get moving!

She practically knocked her Prince Charming on his butt as she jumped to her feet. The room spun, and she swayed on those damned four-inch heels. Luckily, James was there to steady her.

“Easy there, sailor.” His gaze scanned the crowd before he glanced down at Mrs. Applegate. “Would you mind letting Cassandra’s brothers know that I took her home?”