by Tawny Weber
A cozy sort of feeling warmed Diego’s chest. He’d never looked for cozy before and suddenly it was oddly appealing. The mayor was a kick. A fun old guy with a great sense of the ridiculous, he was the easiest authority figure Diego had ever worked with. Which meant he’d better get over it. Things that appealed in his life? They always ended up short-term, if they even lasted that long.
“Probably just making his decision to bring someone in look good,” Diego said dismissively with an uncomfortable shrug.
The teasing smile shifted to contemplation as Jade studied his face. Finally, just as he was about to actually shuffle his feet, she handed him his coffee.
“Applebaum really isn’t into the spin game. I mean, there’s not much point in a town this size. I think that’s how he’s gotten reelected so often. People know he’s telling the truth,” she said before gesturing toward the room behind him. Diego glanced at the plush, curvy couch. Bright blue, it was diamond-tucked with at least a hundred buttons, glossy wood accents and curlicue legs. It should have said fussy discomfort, but he could picture Jade laid out there in a sassy, sexy invitation much too easily.
He looked over her shoulder toward the dining room table with its long bench-style seats. The hardwood looked as if it’d make for some uncomfortable sexy times, not in the slightest bit encouraging toward stripping Jade’s clothes off one piece at a time to search for invitations.
“Why don’t we take this into the dining room.” He covered his inward cringe with a big smile. “I was hoping for some cookies, and the table means fewer crumbs, right?”
The smile she flashed was bright and happy, as if he’d just answered the secret question and was about to be awarded his prize. Diego’s heart picked up a beat as his imagination flipped through all the prizes he’d like from her. Most involved bare skin and a few required feathers.
“I figured you’d be cookied-out after all the offers this afternoon. But just in case...” She gestured toward the living room again. He followed the wave of her hand. A tall tree, glistening in rich jewel decorations, was displayed in the window. In front of the couch was a low table that looked like a polished brass surfboard. On it were some magazines, a free-form glass bowl in brilliant shades of streaky blue, indigo and purple, and an old-fashioned holiday tin with a bright red lid. He glanced back at Jade in question.
“The cookies are already out,” she said. Then, taking matters into her own hands, she skirted around him. Not touching, not even close to making inappropriate contact. But the glance she offered through her lashes was as naughty as if she’d pressed her breasts into his chest. His body reacted as if she had, too, his breath catching and his dick going hard.
“It’s comfier in here. And besides, if we have cookies here, Persephone will leave us alone. If we eat in the dining room, or even sit in there, she’s going to raise a ruckus.”
Diego gave the cat a doubtful look. It looked harmless. “A ruckus?”
“Yes,” Jade confirmed, sinking onto the couch as if the matter was all settled. When she curled her feet up to tuck them beneath her hip, he figured in her mind, it actually was. “In here, she’ll jump on the couch, check us out, then curl into a ball under the tree and nap. If we were in the dining room, she’d weave between our feet meowing, angry that she can’t get up on the bench or table to dismiss what we’re doing.”
Bowing to the inevitable, Diego crossed the room. A quick glance told him that the other seating choices weren’t optimal. One was a round footstool, about four feet in diameter and covered in furry leopard print. The other looked like a prop from a fifties movie, with its angular shape and retro polka-dot fabric. Safe enough to sit in, but made for a pixie-size woman. Reluctantly—at least that’s what he told himself—Diego sat on the couch with Jade. As far away from her as he could get. So far, their body heat didn’t even mingle. So far, he couldn’t reach out and trail his palm over the smooth line of her jaw, or comb his fingers through those silky strands.
Close enough, he figured, that if he kept a cookie in one hand and the cup of hot coffee in the other, he’d do just fine.
“Here,” Jade instructed, pulling the red lid off the cookie tin to show a variety of holiday treats. “Cookies fresh from my mom’s kitchen. And that shoe-shaped disk? That’s a coaster. Just set your coffee there.”
He glared at the bright red shoe with its glittery bow and glossy heel. A coaster. A sexy coaster. What better to lure him into temptation with.
Stop, he silently demanded. He was here to solve a case and get the hell back to his own life and his bright new promotion. Not to be led around by his dick and quite possibly hurt what was probably the nicest, sweetest, sexiest woman he’d ever met.
“Have a cookie and tell me more about yourself, Diego,” she invited with a smile warm enough to melt the frosting off the holly cookie she’d chosen. She bit off a piece, the crispy cookie snapping. Her tongue, small and pink, slid over her lower lip, gathering the scattered sugar.
His mouth watered. She’d missed one glistening green crystal. It sparkled, tasty and tempting, inviting him to lick it off the corner of her mouth.
“How about we talk about the case instead.” He didn’t care if he sounded desperate. He knew damn well that the minute his coffee cup met that shoe coaster, he was in a whole lot of trouble.
* * *
JADE’S LOWER LIP trembled a little. She didn’t want to talk about the case. She didn’t want to think about some panty-stealing creep being in her house. In her underwear. She didn’t want to consider what it meant that the crimes had gone from undetected thefts to someone breaking in and trashing her bedroom. Either the creep was escalating to meaner crimes—or he had it in for her, specifically.
Instead, she’d rather take comfort from the information her mother had passed on. Apparently, Opal had been chatting with the mayor, who’d filled her in on Diego’s many crime-fighting talents. The good detective had quite a fan in Applebaum. Of course, rumor was that the mayor was in talks with two neighboring towns to create a dedicated police force so they didn’t have to rely on the county sheriff any longer. He’d gone on and on about Diego’s close rates, his ability to think outside the box and what sounded like an almost mythical talent when it came to reading people.
Diego was here to solve this case. And she had complete faith that he’d do so—and keep her safe while he was here. But the minute he nabbed the Panty Thief, he’d grab his duffel bag, swing one long, lean leg over that big beast of a motorcycle he’d driven into town on and roar right back out.
As if to prove her point, he dug one hand into the pocket of his leather jacket and, still holding his coffee as if it was a lifeline, pulled out the little notebook he’d used all day.
She figured she could pout that the sexiest man alive was only here for a tiny amount of time, barely enough for her to learn his loner ways and independent spirit. Or she could make the most of what little time there was before he left.
“So you’ll be heading back home soon,” she said before he could start flipping through his notes. “Just in time for the holidays and all that, right? Do you have special plans?”
As in, a woman to kiss under the mistletoe? A family hell-bent on setting him up with Ms. Perfect? A slew of lovers waiting to unwrap his...package?
“Special plans for what?”
“Celebrating, of course. Tree-trimming parties, naughty-gift exchanges, secret-Santa festivities. You know, plans.”
He looked so baffled, she had to force herself not to scootch over and give him a hug. It was as if he’d never experienced Christmas. At least, not a fun, festive one. The kind with candy canes and homemade decorations. Carols and cookies by the tree.
The kind she took for granted. Jade glanced at the cookie tin, feelings of guilt and joy mingling. Diablo Glen might not be the fashion mecca of the world, but it was pretty awesome in
so many other ways.
“I’m sorry,” she said, giving in to the need to touch him by patting his thigh—and what a strong, hard thigh it was. “But I think I’m going to have to expose you to as much Christmas as I can while you’re here in town. I’m pretty sure it’s my moral obligation.”
“You have a moral obligation to foist tinsel and sugar cookies on people?” He sounded horrified.
Jade grinned. “Okay, it’s my holiday obligation. And it’s more than just sugar cookies, you know. There’s gingerbread, too.”
“That’s okay.” He gave an adamant shake of his head.
“No, no,” she said dismissively, waving her hand as if he’d protested out of some need to not put her out rather than dread. “I really want to show you the delights of the season, and you can say a lot of things about Diablo Glen, but you can’t claim we don’t know how to show Santa a good time.”
“You should save the good time for him, then. I’m fine without it.”
“Nope,” Jade insisted, both amused and delighted at his baffled reaction. “We have wonderful seasonal celebrations every day in December, winding up with my mom’s open house on the twenty-third. Tonight the grade school chorus is doing a musical of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the O’Malley family are doing hayrides through town after sunset and the ladies’ auxiliary kicks off their annual sugarfest fundraiser.”
Maybe it was his look of baffled trepidation. Or maybe it was the need to show him a little holiday cheer. Or, more likely, it was a desire to spend as much time as possible with him before he roared off into the sunset.
Whatever it was, Jade was determined that for whatever time he was here, Diego was going to experience a Diablo Glen Christmas.
“You’ll have fun,” she insisted, offering him another cookie from the tin. She wanted to see if he actually could have fun. Did being a loner who only had to answer to oneself mean giving up the simple, easy pleasures?
“I’m not interested in fun.” He didn’t sound sure, though. His eyes, hooded and intense, dropped to her breasts. Jade’s breath caught. Her heart skipped a beat before racing like crazy through her chest. Her nipples stiffened, pebbling tight against the red lace of her camisole. Nerves raced faster than her pulse. She wanted him like crazy. She’d give anything to taste him, to strip him naked with her teeth, then run her tongue over his bare skin.
Her fingers trembled. The shaking was accompanied by a rattling sound. Realizing she was still holding out the tin of cookies, she lifted it a little in question. His eyes met hers again.
“Christmas is my favorite time of year. The lights, the glitter. All the great presents,” she babbled nervously. “You really should give all the celebrational fun a try.”
“Maybe next year,” he said, making it sound like maybe never. She wanted to push, but the look on his face, closed and distant, said back off. Figuring she’d done enough to promote the season—for now—she complied.
“You’re up for a promotion,” she said with a smile, shifting topics and choosing a stained-glass sugar cookie for something to do with her mouth besides irritate him. “Will you still live in Fresno when you get it?”
“I’ll be transferred to San Francisco.”
“Oh, fun,” she exclaimed, not a little envious. “I love it there. I used to live in the Haight, in the cutest Painted Lady. It was one of those gorgeous Victorians all done up in bright colors and divided into four condos. Walking distance to the best boutiques and oh, man, the food.”
“You lived in San Francisco?”
Jade frowned. Why did he sound so shocked? Did he think she couldn’t fit into such an exciting, metro place? That she was so small-town she couldn’t handle the culture and diversity and challenge of one of the most dynamic cities in the world?
“I lived there for two years while I went to school at the Art Institute. My degree is in fashion merchandising and management.” She tried to smile, hoping it’d take some of the stiffness out of her words. If the narrow look he gave her was any indication, it didn’t come close.
She waited for the inevitable questions on why she’d returned to Diablo Glen. Whether she hadn’t been able to hack it or if she’d come running back like a homesick small-town girl. Or if she’d been so overwhelmed by the expenses and the pressures and the demands, she’d used the first excuse she could find to throw it all away and scurry back to mommy.
Jade puffed out a breath. Maybe she had a few issues.
“I’m confused,” Diego said after a few seconds. “Aren’t you a librarian?”
Well, that hadn’t been on the list of neurotic questions she’d been prepared to field. Feeling as though her skin had shrunk two sizes too tight, Jade wrinkled her nose.
“No. Absolutely not.” Realizing she sounded as if he’d just accused her of skewering Santa with a metal nail file, she sucked in a breath and tried to tone it down. She really did love the library and respected the profession, so she tried to explain. “I mean, I work at the library, but that’s not my vocation. I love clothes, love creating looks, but I don’t have the imagination to be a designer. I do have a great eye for combining pieces that suit people, in bringing together a look, an outfit, a style.”
Diego blinked a couple of times, as if he was trying to connect the dots, but a few too many were missing for him to make a solid picture.
“It was my dream, working in fashion.” She tossed the uneaten cookie on the table with a sigh. “But family obligations, expectations, they got in the way. You know how it is, right?”
His eyes softer than she’d ever seen, he looked as if he was going to give her a comforting hug. Jade started to lean forward, more than ready to feel his arms around her. Then he shook his head.
“No. My only obligations are to the job.”
“How do you avoid family ones?” she asked, wondering if she should take notes.
“No family. No obligations to avoid.” His words were flat, his eyes cold.
“But...” Jade’s words trailed off, her mind flailing about, searching for a way to put to words the millions of questions suddenly bombarding her mind.
“I have a mother, she’s still alive. Somewhere,” he said, his tone as distant and cold as the North Pole. He didn’t drink his coffee to warm it up, though. Instead, he stared off at something only he could see over Jade’s shoulder. “She was a party girl, only dropped into my life once or twice before heading off to the next thrill. Dumped me in foster care, or with an uncle now and then.”
Jade pressed her fingers to her mouth to hold back her protest.
“It’s no big deal,” he said, seeing the look on her face. “I did fine. And it’s easier to focus on the job without those obligations you talked about.”
Jade’s heart melted in sympathy, tears threatening, hot and burning in her eyes. That poor little boy. No mother, no family, no love? How’d he survive? What incredible strength did he have inside that had placed him on this side of the badge instead of the other?
“You’re not getting any sloppy sentimental ideas over there, are you?” he asked, his tone as light as possible for someone who sounded as if he had his nuts in a vise—emotionally speaking, of course.
“Me?” she asked with a cheery laugh. Blinking fast to ensure her eyes were clear and bright, she picked the cookie up again and nibbled. The sugar tasted like dirt, gritty and bland. “Sentimental? Unless you’re talking vintage fashion or stop-motion Christmas cartoons, I’m never sentimental.”
She shifted on the couch, making her once-over look like a teasing inspection, when she was actually looking deeper, as if she could actually see the emotional scars.
It was easier to kiss them better if she could see them first.
“Look, it’s no big deal. Lots of people grow up in worse situations. I had food, shelter, all the fundamentals. I turned out fine.�
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Indeed he had. Which spoke more to his inner strength than the resilience of human nature.
“You’re disillusioned,” she observed quietly, her heart weighing heavy in her chest as she traced a soft caress over the back of his hand for comfort.
He laughed, the sound surprised, not cynical. “Disillusioned? Nah. You have to have illusions for that, don’t you? I never had any.”
“What about being a cop? You had to have illusions of what that’d be. Is it what you expected?”
After a few seconds, he met her eyes again. The frustrated disappointment in his dark gaze made her feel as if she’d just kicked a sweet little puppy.
“Yeah, I guess I am disillusioned.”
“Yet you do a job that requires that you believe in good,” she marveled.
“Believe in good? Hardly. I deal in proof of the exact opposite.” His bitter laugh wasn’t an insult to her, she realized, her smile sliding into a frown. It was directed at himself.
“You believe in the power of justice. In right and wrong. And you believe, you must believe, that you can balance the two somehow,” she said, her words soft, almost a whisper. As if saying it too loud would send him flying off her couch and out that door.
Still, she couldn’t not say it. She spent most of her life keeping things in. Playing nice and not speaking out, worried about making others upset or uncomfortable. But unlike her family, with whom it would serve no purpose to share her dreams and frustrations, Diego needed to hear what she had to say.
Her fingers skimmed his wrist and forearm, muscled and tense. Hard. Like the rest of his body.
He needed to know what she felt.
She let her eyes travel from her fingers, milky white against his golden skin, up his deliciously muscled arm and broad shoulder to the curve of his chin. The soft, just-this-side-of-pretty fullness of his lower lip. The sharp line of his nose and—her breath caught as she met his gaze—the intensity of his dark eyes.
He should be told what she saw.
“You really are a hero, aren’t you?”