A Match Made Under the Mistletoe

by Diana Palmer

  It wasn’t until that night, when he woke to the sound of Mr. Wiggles’s motorboat purr and opened his eyes to find the cat lying on the pillow next to him, that he knew what he had to do.

  * * *

  Jed spent a few hours Sunday researching the project. Monday, while Elise was taking her lunch break, he called Bravo Construction.

  Nell Bravo was there and willing to take his call. For the past four months or so, he only ever dealt with Nell when he needed something from the builder. It was easier that way. She was smart, tough and direct and never accused him of hurting her feelings. In the past, he’d been brusque with the receptionist and yelled too loud at one of their carpenters. After that, Nell told him he was to deal with her and only her.

  Nell didn’t say hello. She opened with “You’d better be treating my sister right.”

  “She’s still here. I think you can take that as a very good sign.” He realized he needed to make nice. For giving him Elise, Nell deserved a thank-you. “Elise is just what I was looking for. Thanks for steering her my way.”

  “You’re welcome, Jed. And what can I do for you today?”

  “I have a project I need built. It’s not exactly what you do. But I thought if you couldn’t help me, you could refer me to someone who can.”

  “Happy to. Tell me what you need.”

  He described what he wanted and then elaborated a little. “I was thinking a basic structure at first, with maybe add-ons, climbing runs, bump-outs, things like that later, after we see how it works out. I want it to look good, to fit with the landscaping and the house. High-end, you know?”

  “I understand. But I didn’t have a clue you had a cat.”

  “Of course I don’t have a cat. Do I look like a man who would have a cat?”

  “So it’s for Wigs, then?”

  “Why? Is that somehow a problem?”

  “No. I’m surprised, that’s all. This isn’t exactly your style.”

  “You mean, because I’m such a hard-ass, I can’t do something nice for Elise and her cat?”

  “Pretty much. Tell me, Jed.” He knew from her tone that he wouldn’t like what came next. And he didn’t. “Are you a secret softy?”

  He had no idea what to say to that, so he demanded curtly, “Can you make it happen, or refer me to someone who can?”

  “No way I’m referring you,” she said with a low laugh.

  “What the hell?” he growled. “Somehow, this is funny?”

  “Well, yeah, it kind of is.” He was just about to tell her thanks for nothing and hang up, when she asked, “So what time are you through yelling and throwing knives today?”

  “When am I done writing, you mean? We knock off around nineteen hundred hours.”

  “Seven works for me. I’ll draw up something basic and you can give me more details tonight to flesh it out.”

  “So you’re telling you’re going to build it for me and you’ll be here at nineteen hundred hours?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Excellent.” He was relieved. Bravo Construction always did great work. They came in on time and gave him what he asked for, only better. Plus, if had to deal with other people, he preferred people he already knew, people who weren’t the least bit afraid of him. The scared ones just never worked out. “When can you start on it?”

  “Let me check the schedule before I commit, but I’m pretty sure once you approve the design we can get going within the week.”

  “The sooner the better.”

  She made a low, amused little sound. “I might even give you a special discount, being as how it’s for Wigs and all.”

  “Money is no object. I want it to look good, like everything you build. And I want it roomy with lots of climbing, scratching and hiding options. Also, I want it as soon as possible.”

  “Of course you do, Jed. And at Bravo Construction, we make it our business to see that you get exactly what you want.”

  He wasn’t sure he liked her tone. “You know, Nell. Sometimes I find your attitude humorous.”

  “How ’bout now?”

  He wasn’t touching that. “See you tonight. Join us for dinner?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  “Good, then.” He hung up before she could give him more grief.

  * * *

  Besides the money and the jetted tub and the way she was getting to like her grouchy employer way more than she should, Elise appreciated being allowed to dress for comfort while working for Jed. If she had to spend the whole day sitting on her butt, at least she didn’t have to do it in a pencil skirt.

  Jed said he didn’t mind what she wore as long as her clothes didn’t constrain her or break her concentration in any way. So she wore leggings and roomy casual shirts. Now and then in the past couple of weeks as the summer turned hot, she even wore shorts. Jed didn’t complain about the shorts.

  On the contrary, she would often catch him looking at her bare legs with great interest, his eyes kind of glazing over. She loved that. Sometimes when she was typing and couldn’t actually see him staring, she knew exactly what he was doing anyway, because he would pause in the middle of a sentence…and then catch himself with a throat-clearing sound. Then he would murmur, “Elise,” so that she would stop typing, and follow it with a string of muttered swear words, at which point he would grumble out her name again and lurch back into the story.

  That day, she’d started off in leggings and a lightweight tunic. But it was gorgeous out, and hot. At lunch, she’d changed to cutoffs, cowboy boots and a soft plaid shirt, and had taken her sandwich out on the deck off the great room to enjoy the sunshine.

  When Jed joined her in the office after the break and she swung her chair around to greet him, he did a double take at the sight of her bare legs—and then instantly tried to pretend that he hadn’t. She totally loved that.

  He said, “Your sister Nell is coming tonight.” He sounded furious. But she was on to him big-time. He often seemed angry when he was flustered. “She’ll eat with us.”

  And wait a minute. Had she heard him right? Jed didn’t make a habit of inviting her family members for dinner—he didn’t make a habit of inviting anyone for dinner. “Okay. I’m just going to ask it. Why is my sister suddenly coming to dinner?”

  “I invited her.” He had on his scary face.

  She rose from her chair. “That thunderous expression you’re wearing? Doesn’t faze me in the least. And let me put it this way. I’m not typing a word until you tell me what’s going on.”

  He grabbed a bowie knife from the array on the credenza and whipped it toward the padded wall. It landed with a thwack. “Don’t piss me off. It messes up my aim. You could get seriously hurt.”

  She sat on the edge of her desk, crossed her legs and thought how handsome he was when he tried to be intimidating. All testosterone and hunky grumpiness. “Are you trying to scare me? Because it’s not really working.”

  He threw another knife. “You Bravo women. You’re all about the attitude.”

  “You’re saying Nell gave you attitude?” His answer to that was to send another knife flying at the wall. “I’m guessing that’s a yes. What’s going on, Jed?”

  He had ninja stars, too. He picked one up and sent it spinning. Bull’s-eye. Finally, he turned to her. “I wanted it to be a surprise. But then I knew you wouldn’t like it if your sister just showed up out of nowhere. And I didn’t want to spring it on you in front of her—just in case you don’t take it well, you know?”

  For a man who used words for a living, he was making a real hash of explaining himself now. “Take what well?”

  Instead of answering her question, he scowled and added, “But I can’t see why you wouldn’t. It’s a good thing and you should love it. I know the damn cat will.”

  “Jed. What in the
world are you talking about?”

  He picked up another knife and then set it down without throwing it. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  This was a first. “But it’s work time.”

  “Work can wait.”

  That was so totally not Jed that her mouth fell open. “Are you feeling all right?”

  He held out his hand to her. “Get over here.”

  “You know you need to work.”

  “Fine. Grab a steno pad and a pencil.”

  “What for?”

  “If I have an idea while we’re walking, you can jot it down.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Think of it as working. Steno pad. Pencil.”

  She bent over the side of the desk, pulled open the pencil drawer and found both. “Fine.” She waved the pad at him. “Got ’em.”

  “Good. Now, come here.”

  She got up from the desk. “You’re the boss.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” He wiggled his big fingers at her impatiently.

  She took her time strolling over there, partly because she loved baiting him. And partly to revel in how hard he was trying not to glance down at her legs. When she slipped her free hand in his, she gave him her sweetest smile. “Well, all right. I have to admit that a walk sounds really nice.”

  Downstairs, Wigs was sitting at the French doors staring longingly at the patio and the woods beyond, the way he’d been doing too often since last Wednesday when Jed had let him out.

  “Sorry, sweetie. No can do.” She scooped up the cat and set him safely out of the way.

  They slipped through the doors and Jed shut them. Wigs stepped up to the other side and sat down to stare out again. He meowed at her, but softly enough that she couldn’t hear him through the insulated glass. She got the message, though, loud and clear. He longed for the freedom of the great outdoors.

  “Poor guy.” Jed claimed her hand again.

  She almost yanked it back. “No thanks to you.”

  “Come on.” He said it gently, coaxingly even.

  “What is going on with you?”

  “Just walk.” Pulling her with him, he set off across the patio and into the trees, where the shade made the air a little cooler.

  They walked in silence to the meadow and across it. He took the winding trail on the left and they started upward into the forest again. Overhead, somewhere beyond the green canopy of the tall firs, she heard a hawk cry. Small creatures scrabbled in the underbrush. Elise breathed in the warm, pine-scented air and told herself to enjoy the moment.

  A stroll in the woods with Jed. Who knew that was ever going to happen?

  When the ground leveled out again and the trees opened up to a small, grassy space, he stopped suddenly and turned to her. She gazed up at him, admiring him though she probably shouldn’t. His dark hair showed glints of bronze in the sunlight. And he had a little gray at the temples. It looked good on him.

  “Might as well get on with it,” he said bleakly.

  She was all for that. “Great. Talk to me.”

  “It’s like this. I want your damn cat to be able to go outside. Your damn cat wants to be able to go outside. But you want him safe. So I came up with a solution. It’s called a ‘catio’—get it? Cat patio. Which is too cute by half if you ask me. I want to enclose the back patio in wire fencing and rig one of the French doors with a cat door. Nell will build it for me, which is why she’s coming over tonight, to agree on the plans and collect a deposit.”

  Elise stared up at him, into those green eyes she’d once seen as icy. This man.

  Oh, God. This man.

  Her arms ached to grab him close and hold him tight and never, ever let him go.

  Except that grabbing him would be so stupid. She needed this job, needed to stick with it right through to the end of this book, as planned. She needed every penny he was paying her; she couldn’t afford to take a chance on messing it all up. And falling into bed with the boss could definitely mess it all up.

  Jed’s mouth had a grim twist to it now. “You don’t like it. You hate it.”

  She thought of last Wednesday, of Wigs and that poor, dead mouse. Of Jed warning her not to start screaming. The mouse is a gift, he’d said. At the time, she’d been offended that he assumed she would freak, but the point was, a gift mattered. A gift ought to be properly appreciated.

  And this man had given her no end of gifts—not the least of which included a big boost to her self-image and self-confidence after the endless series of emotional and financial blows she’d sustained in recent months.

  Yeah, there were plenty of reasons to say no to his catio plan. It would cost more than she ought to let Jed spend on her pet. And when this job ended, he’d just have to tear it down, wouldn’t he? And how would Wigs react, to have a roomy outdoor space to roam in and then end up returning to the confinement of her dinky apartment over the donut shop?

  It wasn’t fair to Jed. It could be harder for Wigs in the end.

  But wait just a second here. Why go negative? Why expect the worst?

  She loved what he wanted to do. And maybe she needed to go with that. Go with the positive and focus on making sure he knew how grateful she was.

  Moreover, just because this job with him would end didn’t necessarily mean she and Jed had to be over, as well. Maybe they could have something good together, something that actually might last.

  And a girl never got what she wanted by refusing to try for it, did she? Yes, she’d made a lot of mistakes. But the whole point was to learn from your mistakes, learn and move on, not let them paralyze you, not let them cut you off from the good things that might come your way.

  Jed looked really worried now. “You’re so quiet. That’s not good, is it? Are you pissed at me? Just tell me.”

  How had this happened? She wasn’t quite sure. But she could no longer deny the truth. She was falling for her crazy, knife-wielding, macho-man boss.

  She stepped in closer to him. “I, um…”

  He fell back. “What? Tell me. God, what?”

  Go for it. Stop stalling.

  And she did. She stepped right up to him again, lifted her hands and laid them against his broad, hard chest. The pad and pencil were in the way, but not too much.

  Heat flared in those beautiful eyes—and then he turned wary again. “Elise. What the hell?”

  “I love it, Jed, that you’re building Wigs a catio.”

  “You do?”

  “It’s a wonderful idea. Thank you.”

  “Ahem. Well, okay, then. You’re welcome.”

  “And there’s something else…”

  “What?” The single word was weighted with suspicion.

  Make your move, girl. Do it now.

  She slid her hands up to clasp his neck and jumped, lifting her legs and wrapping them around him, hooking her booted feet at his back, letting out a silly “whoops” as she dropped the pad and pencil to the grass in the process.

  “Elise!” He caught her automatically, big hands so warm and strong, cradling her thighs. “What in the…?”

  She answered the question he couldn’t quite seem to ask by threading her fingers up into his thick hair and guiding him down until his mouth finally crashed into hers.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jed wasn’t sure exactly how this had happened.

  He only knew he liked it. A lot.

  Her mouth felt like heaven, soft and so willing. Exactly as he’d always imagined it might. He nudged at her parted lips until she opened wider on a sweet little moan. And he dipped his tongue deeper, into honeyed wetness, retreating only in order to catch her plump lower lip between his teeth.

  Amazing.

  He hadn’t expected this. No way.

  Apparentl
y, the catio had been a very good idea.

  She was grateful. And willing to show it—with that wide, sweet mouth of hers and those full, smooth thighs.

  Elise, wrapped all around him. Talk about a red-letter day.

  She tasted so good, like apples and honey, and she smelled like clean cotton warmed by the sun. She moaned some more and wriggled against him, causing fine flares of heat to chase across his skin everywhere her curvy body rubbed his. He was already hard, aching. And it was good.

  So good. Those full, soft breasts smashed against his chest, the hot notch between her thighs rubbing him right where he wanted her most.

  Since the night the cat got out, he’d been considering how and when to make his move.

  Leave it to Elise to make his move for him—and so enthusiastically, too.

  Elise all over him. Did it get any better?

  Yeah. Yeah, it did.

  When he had her naked, that would be even better. And right now, judging by her kiss and her hot little sighs, he knew they would get there. He would have her in his bed minus all her clothes. He groaned at the thought of it.

  Life was good. His book was coming together and Elise would be coming apart for him. Soon. Tonight.

  He had no complaints. Not a one.

  He had those pretty legs wrapped around him now, had her mouth fused to his as she rubbed herself against him.

  Things were working out just right—or they were until she fisted her fingers in his hair and pulled her mouth away from his.

  He let out a growl of protest. “Get back here.”

  She laughed, the sound low and way too damn sexy. “Let’s not get carried away.”

  “Why not? Getting carried away sounds like a fine plan to me.”

  She kissed him again, a quick, hard press of her soft lips to his, the feeling so sweet—and over much too soon. “Let me down,” she commanded.

  Against his better judgment, he obeyed, another groan breaking from him as she slid along the front of him. Once she had boots on the ground, she offered that mouth again. He took it, hard and deep, kissing her for all he was worth, hoping that if he did a bang-up job of it, she wouldn’t ever pull away.