Christmas with a SEAL

by Tawny Weber

  “You know how to dance, right?” Another green twinkle—how had she never noticed he had the most interesting golden streaks that cut through the irises, looking like starbursts? “I mean, it’s pretty easy—you just try to find the beat in the music and move around to it.”

  She licked her lips, hearing the band finishing “Time Warp,” which immediately made her think of pelvic thrusts—not something she should be thinking about when it came to Chaz. Luckily the musicians segued right into a torchy version of “Witchcraft.” That somehow seemed appropriate, given her costume, and the fact that she felt as if someone had cast a spell on her. The song was slower, jazzier, and would necessitate close-up dancing, with hands and bodies in direct contact. And though her mind decided that was even riskier than pelvic thrusts, her legs launched her out of her chair immediately.

  “Sure.”

  She let him take her hand and pull her toward the crowded dance floor. When he grabbed her hips and pulled her close, she swallowed hard, trying to maintain her smile. Could he feel her crazily-beating heart or see the way her pulse thrummed in her throat? And was there any way in hell he didn’t know that some of her most female parts were standing at attention as their bodies brushed together?

  Lulu waited for him to say something—Welcome to D.C., How’s the new place?, How are your folks? But he remained silent, merely moving his thigh between her legs as they swayed.

  Lord have mercy. Though she’d often imagined having Chaz’s throat between her hands so she could strangle him for saying something that totally pissed her off, she’d never fantasized about having any part of him between her thighs.

  He’d been gone from her life before she’d realized stomach flutters and thigh clenching were definite signs of lust.

  But now her body was reacting to him in a way she’d never allowed her mind to. There was no mistaking her reaction for anything except excitement. Her palms were sweating and her whole body felt hot and sticky, as though if she didn’t get her clothes off, she would melt right into a puddle of want in the middle of the dance floor.

  God, he was so big and strong compared to the boy she’d known. Powerful, male, appealing enough to stop hearts. His chest was so broad it could be used as a life raft. She couldn’t help twining her fingers in his longish hair, tousled from the sheet, shaggy from a few months’ travel.

  The truth slammed into her, hard and life-changing.

  She wanted him. Badly. Lulu wanted to go to bed with Chaz Browning and see if all the years of angry tension between them could be erased by erotic tension.

  If only he were some random guy she’d just met, and the baggage of an entire childhood of fighting and competing, not to mention family drama, didn’t stand between them. If only he were just a sexy stranger like Schaefer, albeit one with charm, easy wit and personality.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t a stranger. Despite how closely he held her, Chaz couldn’t possibly have forgotten her childhood shenanigans and his own disdain toward her. There was no way he’d look at her as anything but the bane of his youth and the scorn of his adulthood. Plus there was the family-connection burden of looking after her. His email had said he’d promised his mom he’d do exactly that once he was back in the country, like she was some high schooler on a field trip to the big bad city. An inconvenience. A brat.

  No, anything remotely resembling a sexual connection between her and Chaz was simply out of the question. She was just going to have to go home and get cozy with her vibrator, or say to hell with it and bang the boring guitar player. Anything to avoid letting Chaz realize he’d affected her so deeply. That would be worse than the sweaty hands/square dancing incident.

  “The music’s good tonight,” he finally said. “Schaefer and his band have improved since the last time I heard them play.”

  “You know him?”

  “Yeah, he’s sort of a regular in the neighborhood and he was a soloist for a while. But he was a bit of a hippie. He’d get into trouble, sneaking out of upbeat background music and into some depressing, sixties, psychedelic-mushroom ballad once in a while. Talk about a mood killer. The bar owners threatened to ban him.”

  “Do you know his first name?”

  Chaz grinned. “I do.”

  “What is it?”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you. He made me promise.”

  “Must be a doozy.”

  He nodded slowly. “Let’s just say...it’s appropriate.”

  “Can’t I bribe it out of you?”

  “What’ll you give me?”

  “All the Tootsie Rolls from my goodie bag?”

  “I’m not interested in candy,” he told her, that half smile lingering on a mouth so kissable it made her own go dry.

  “I thought you were jonesing for candy corn.”

  “Maybe I’d rather taste something else sweet.”

  Whoa. The twinkle in his eye and the flash of that dimple took the light comment and brought it up to flirtatious—maybe even suggestive—level. It was totally unlike anything he’d ever said to her. She had to wonder how many drinks he’d had, or if he’d been drinking them on an empty, jet-lagged stomach. She just didn’t believe a sober Chaz would’ve made that kind of comment—not to her, anyway.

  “Like what?” she asked, her tone just as flirty and suggestive, calling his bluff. She knew he’d put a stop to the conversation any second, but couldn’t deny she was having fun while it lasted.

  “That drink left your lips looking very red and delicious.”

  Good God, was he going to kiss her? The way his gaze focused in on her face said he was considering it, and her heart pounded in her chest. It was crazy. They hadn’t even played doctor as kids, much less snuck even the most innocent of kisses. But he was eyeing her mouth as if he was parched and needed to positively drink from her.

  “I have to admit, this conversation is taking me by surprise,” she said, hearing the breathiness in her own voice and wondering what he would make of it.

  “You can’t be surprised that I think you’re beautiful.”

  “I most certainly am,” she said with a forced smile. Chaz, the boy who’d once called her a soul-sucking leech, thought she was beautiful?

  Yeah. He had to be drunk.

  “Every man here thinks it,” he said, sounding totally serious. “I saw you the minute I walked in and couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Glancing down at her body, he smiled wickedly. “You surprised me. I always assumed witches were old and ugly.”

  “Only bad witches are ugly,” she pointed out, catching his Wizard of Oz reference.

  “And you’re a very good witch?”

  “Some would debate that. Maybe I’m a little of both.”

  “Which witch are you tonight?”

  “Which witch do you hope I am?”

  His green eyes glittered under the dance floor lights. “Maybe a little of both.”

  Hmm.

  “Just remind me not to drop a house on you.”

  “Or douse me with water,” she said with a grin, liking how easy they were with each other. Old friends flirting a little, reminiscing a little. Because they were both exploring a shared memory.

  It had been her eleventh Halloween. She’d wanted to be a Spice Girl, but in a repetition of the Sailor Moon fiasco, of course the boys wouldn’t go for what she wanted, so they’d all done a Wizard of Oz thing. Chaz had been the Scarecrow, Lawrence, her brother, the Tin Man, her dog was Toto, and Chaz’s dog was the Cowardly Lion. Only, as if he understood his role and wasn’t happy about being labeled a coward, the ornery beagle had wriggled out of his lion mane and hidden it in his doghouse before they’d even started trick-or-treating.

  As for the rest...well, of course Sarah had been Dorothy and Lulu had been the Wicked Witch of the West. Complete with green flour paste all ove
r her face, a scraggly wig, horrific hat and butt-ugly dress. Not exactly the Posh Spice she’d pictured.

  She was pretty sure Sarah was the one who’d gotten raisins in place of chocolate bars that year. Hell, maybe all of them had.

  “One thing’s for sure, I don’t ever remember witches wearing black leather bustiers,” he said.

  “Or spider-web patterned tights?” she said with an eyebrow wag. She so loved the tights.

  “The skirt and those heels don’t hurt, either.”

  Yeah, most witches probably didn’t wear flouncy, lacy black miniskirts, or screw-me shoes with silver chains around the ankles. All of which she’d donned to attract a guy who now held absolutely no interest for her, and which had instead drawn the eye of one she’d known forever, but had never really allowed herself to see until now. Strange, strange world.

  “Back to the point. I noticed you, and then you smiled at me.”

  Yes, she had. A big, friendly, please-don’t-figure-out-what-I’ve-been-thinking smile. “So I did.”

  “You have an amazing smile. Welcoming and uninhibited.”

  His tone was sincere, his eyes gleaming with something she couldn’t quite place. Tenderness? Maybe that. Chaz had always had a nice, tender streak, which other kids had tried to crush. Her included, on occasion.

  “When I saw that gorgeous smile, and realized it was directed at me, I figured you felt it, too.”

  “Felt what?” Right now all she felt was dazed by words she’d never expected to hear from him of all people.

  He lifted a hand and dragged it through a long strand of her glittery, red-dyed hair, rubbing it lightly, then twining it in his fingers. “Attraction. Heat.”

  His bluntness shocked her. “Are you serious?”

  “Completely.”

  She couldn’t speak, honestly could not find a word to say.

  “I’ve surprised you again?”

  Nodding slowly, she admitted, “Just a bit.”

  “Sorry. I’ve been out of the country too long. I’ve lost my manners and forgotten how this game’s supposed to be played.”

  “Are we playing a game?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  He breathed deeply to inhale the scent of her hair, and lightly, oh, so lightly, kissed her temple, just above the edge of the mask.

  She managed to stay upright at this first-ever kiss between them, even though worlds rocked and tides changed and planets skipped out of orbit at the brush of his lips on her skin.

  Every instinct she owned was telling her that this wasn’t Chaz, that he’d been replaced by a doppelgänger who didn’t hate her, who saw her as the sensual woman she’d become and not the mean-spirited kid he’d once known. What other explanation was there? A dream?

  This is really happening, isn’t it?

  “What kind of game?” she finally asked.

  Another brush of soft lips on her pulse point, then he inhaled deeply, as if imprinting her scent on his memory. “The kind that ends with us in bed.”

  “Holy shit.”

  He laughed. “Shocked you that time, huh?”

  “Oh, hell yes.”

  “Sorry. It’s just been a long while since I’ve been with anyone. A long time since I’ve wanted to, to be perfectly honest. And the minute I saw that smile, I just...wanted you.”

  How on earth could this sexy, forthright, demanding guy have been born out of the shy, nerdy boy she’d known?

  “I know it’s quick, and it’s crazy. I don’t usually do this. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast with a woman in my life. But the truth is, I want to take you out of here and have sex with you like the sun’s not gonna come up tomorrow.”

  Whoa.

  This time, she couldn’t keep her feet steady. Her ankle twisted and she stumbled in the attractive-but-miserably-uncomfortable high heels. If he hadn’t had his arms wrapped around her, she would have fallen right at his feet.

  “Okay, point taken. I’m going too fast,” he said as he held her tightly against him, so she could feel every rope of muscle, each ounce of masculinity. Including a ridge in his pants that said he was not in any way, shape, or form a boy. He was all, total, 100 percent powerful man.

  “Fast? You could be in a car commercial about going from zero to one-twenty in ten seconds flat.”

  “Sorry,” he said with an I’m-not-really-sorry shrug. “Let’s back up, play this the normal way, with introductions. I’m not mysterious like the guitarist. My name’s Chaz. What’s yours?”

  Gasping, she stumbled over her own feet again. Chaz tightened his grip on her hips, preventing her weak, suddenly trembling legs from giving out on her. Her head spun, her thoughts pinging around like a ball in a pinball machine until the reality settled in and became something she believed.

  Son of a bitch.

  “My...my name?”

  “Yeah. You have one, don’t you?”

  She nodded, her brain still scrambling.

  He didn’t recognize her. Chaz Browning had no idea who she was. That’s why he could make those suggestive comments to her—he had no clue he’d been making them to the girl he’d grown up with!

  The truth of it settled in, and she went over the past several minutes in her mind. He’d seen her, noting the costume, and of course the mask that covered two-thirds of her face. But he hadn’t recognized her, Lulu, the bane of his childhood.

  Actually, it did make sense. It was stupid of her to think he would have recognized her at a glance, across a crowded bar, after nine years. He’d remember her as a kid, and right now she was wearing a very sexy costume, and her hair was red and curly. Why on earth would he have known her?

  She should have realized that. In her own defense, she could only say she hadn’t been thinking clearly, she’d been too affected by the grown-up version of the boy she’d known. She was still affected by him, in fact, and growing more so by the minute.

  “How potent are those red drinks?” he asked, laughter in his voice. “If they induce amnesia, they should come with a warning label.”

  “Pretty potent.”

  She smiled weakly as the truth of the situation continued to settle in to all the most adventurous parts of her brain. A world of possibilities opened up like a long road at the start of an exciting journey. She was a stranger to him. Just a sexy stranger, a hot woman Chaz Browning was trying to pick up.

  And, although an hour ago she’d never have dreamed it possible, she was seriously considering letting him.

  “Umm...let’s hold off on the name thing for a while.”

  His eyes widened as if he thought she was kidding. When he realized she wasn’t, he shrugged. “If you say so.”

  She did say so, because she was still trying to figure things out. Things like how much she wanted him. Whether she could have him.

  Despite the obstacles—their careers, her bratty past that had to have left him hating her, their siblings’ angry relationship, their parents’ lifelong friendship, and all the stolen candy bars and broken tailbones history that said they could never make a relationship work—she found herself wanting him more than she’d ever wanted a man in her life.

  Her curiosity ate at her, of course, and the attraction had been instantaneous. But it was more than that. She had known him as a child, and she greatly wanted to know him as a man. Would the sparks they’d shot off each other throughout their lives transition into a different kind of heat altogether?

  Just once, for one wild night, could she have him? Take him, be with him, get the longing and the ache out of her system and then go back to being his friend/enemy without hurting anyone or letting things get complicated? Was that possible?

  Catwoman and Batman managed it.

  Sure. Nemeses to lovers worked sometimes, if only in the short run. Maybe
it wasn’t smart, but it was at least possible.

  It also sounded very exciting.

  There was just one problem. It had to be in the short run. There was no way they could have any kind of future, not with all the baggage and the family issues. Besides, he was an internationally traveling reporter—and she intended to stay right here and change the world in other ways.

  Meaning if something happened between them, it had to be a one-shot deal. Something with no drama, no angsting, no questions even.

  Which meant Chaz could never know the truth.

  If she slept with him tonight, she had to make damn sure he never found out who she actually was. And that meant she had to stay in control.

  Copyright © 2014 by Leslie A. Kelly

  ISBN-13: 9781460341711

  Christmas with a SEAL

  Copyright © 2014 by Tawny Weber

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