A Match Made Under the Mistletoe

by Diana Palmer

  But then she did. Damn it.

  Dropping back onto her heels, she stared up at him dreamily. “We should get back. Nell is coming for dinner and your pages for the afternoon are not going to write themselves.”

  He touched her hair, because he could, because he’d wanted to for way too long and now was his chance. It was so warm under his hand. He couldn’t wait to spear his fingers into it, rub the smooth strands against his mouth, his belly and even lower. “I want more. More of you. More of this…”

  Those dark eyes were so serious. “Me, too.” Her lips were flushed a deeper red from his kiss. He wanted to taste them again. “But we need to talk first.”

  What was it with women and talking first? “Talking’s overrated.”

  Her smile bloomed—a little bit patient, a little bit tender and more than a little bit exasperated. “We would be changing everything up after you made it so painfully clear that first day. Strictly professional, wasn’t that what you said?”

  “I’ve rethought that.”

  “Jed. Are you sure?”

  “Oh, hell, yes.” He took her by the shoulders, pulled her up tight against him and claimed that fine mouth one more time. He made this one last. But eventually, she pulled away again.

  Sighing, she stared up at him, dreamier than ever, her red mouth still parted. “I can’t think straight when you kiss me.”

  “Good. I like you like this—soft, unfocused. I like it a lot. You should be like this often, preferably while naked in my bed.”

  She blinked and her gaze sharpened. “I was so sure a few minutes ago.”

  “About…?”

  “This. Us. But then it always comes back around to what if we go for it and it screws everything up?”

  “There’s no what-if about this. We’re going for it. And nothing’s getting screwed up. You’re too tough and determined for that.”

  She hummed low in her throat. “I could say the same about you.”

  “Exactly. You want this job and I want you doing this job. That won’t change.”

  He got a firm nod for that. “Until this book of yours is done.”

  And the next one. And the one after that. But she wasn’t ready to go there yet.

  So he offered her his hand. She bent and grabbed the pencil and steno pad from the tall grass. Then she slipped her fingers in his and they started back down the path.

  * * *

  Nell showed up right on time that night. She took a beer and she showed them the plans she’d drawn up. They looked great to Jed.

  He suggested a few more catwalks, a cozy cat house and a half roof projecting off the house instead of all wire fencing overhead. “That way he can go out no matter what the weather’s like.”

  “You got it.” Nell made notes of the changes.

  “It’s fabulous,” said Elise. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. She was bent over the table admiring Nell’s sketches and she looked across at him and mouthed, Thank you. She really did seem grateful.

  Too bad he’d invited Nell to stay for dinner. He wanted to hustle Elise’s sister out the door and get on with the evening, just the two of them alone.

  But it turned out okay. Elise seemed really happy to have her sister there. The two of them talked family stuff. Their brother Carter was marrying his fiancée and business partner, Paige Kettleman, on the second Saturday in August. And their brother James’s wife, Addie, was expecting her first baby in October. The Bravo women were planning a shower for her.

  Nell asked him how the book was going.

  “Great,” he answered honestly. “Ever since your sister showed up at my door.”

  Nell left at 2100 hours. Elise walked her out. Jed had just loaded the last dish and shut the dishwasher door when she joined him in the kitchen.

  She folded her arms across her beautiful breasts and braced a hip against the granite counter. “Thanks. For giving Wigs a designer-quality outdoor space. For inviting my sister to dinner.”

  He straightened to his height. “Just keep wearing those little Daisy Duke cutoffs and whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  She glanced down at her cowboy boots and then back up at him. And then she started in about his books, of all things. “As of last night, I’ve read all five Jack McCannon novels—well, actually, I listened to them in audiobook. In the bathtub.”

  Elise in the bathtub. Now there was an image to conjure with. He needed to be closer to her. It was a physical imperative. He left the dishwasher behind and joined her at the corner of the center island. “All five. Impressive.”

  “I enjoyed them.” She tipped her face up to him. Like an offering, he decided. He was just about to take her mouth, when she said, “Jack is endlessly resourceful. Always coming up with new ways to kill people.”

  He raised a hand and brushed his fingers over the plump curve of her cheek. He needed more contact, so he smoothed a hand down her hair. It wasn’t enough. So he lowered his mouth to hers.

  The kiss was slow. Exploratory. She tasted of coffee and the raspberry gelato Deirdre had left them for dessert.

  When he lifted his head, she said breathlessly, “Jack needs a real girlfriend.”

  “Oh, does he?”

  “Mmm-hmm. He needs to get beyond the endless chain of gorgeous and potentially deadly hookups, you know?”

  He slipped a hand under the warm fall of her hair and cupped the nape of her neck. “You’re nervous.”

  “Yeah?” She made it a question. It was adorable.

  He bent a little closer and whispered, “You don’t really want to talk about work, do you?”

  Her very kissable mouth trembled. “Why not? You love your work.”

  “At the moment—” he kissed one soft cheek “—work is the last thing on my mind.” He kissed the other cheek. “But okay. You say Jack needs a girlfriend. I’m not completely averse to the idea. A man gets tired of bed-hopping after a while.”

  “And for Jack, it’s worse.”

  “Because?”

  “He’s bed-hopping while the bullets are flying. He must be exhausted.”

  “You think you’re cute.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s okay. You are.”

  Her cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink. “She should be someone…unexpected. Someone who doesn’t fit into his world. But maybe someone who turns out to be just as resourceful as he is in her own special way.”

  “I like that.”

  “I think it could be good. I think it could bring a whole new dimension to the, uh…” Her voice faded away as he ran the backs of his fingers down the side of her throat. He considered kissing her there, using his teeth a little, making a mark. “Jed?”

  “Hmm?”

  “How many women have you been with?”

  “Several. And do you really want to talk about that now?”

  “I don’t know what happened. I was so confident this afternoon, but tonight…”

  He bent close and brushed his lips against her hair just over her ear. “Tell me.”

  “Well, for some reason, now I just feel so…scared.”

  “Of me?” He bent and kissed that tempting spot on the side of her throat. A sweet shudder went through her. He scraped his teeth there, too—but very lightly. She shuddered again.

  “Not really of you—but a little of you.” Her voice had a slight tremor. “We have it all worked out, you know? It’s all going so well. There’s a…a balance of power. I’m afraid that you and me, like this, will put us all out of whack.”

  “It won’t.” He brushed his mouth up over her chin and settled his lips on hers again. “You taste so good.” He breathed the words against her mouth.

  “I’ve never been, well, particularly sexy, you know?”

  He kissed one cheek and then
the other and then her mouth again. “What idiot told you that?”

  “Nobody had to tell me. I know exactly who I am, what I’m like. I’m…kind of fussy. Controlling. I like things a certain way. Men want me to take care of them when they’re down. But nobody finds me especially exciting.”

  “They’re blind. All of them. Luckily for you, you ran into me.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.”

  He caught her face between his hands and waited for her to look up at him. When she finally did, he said, “I am never silly.”

  She let out a gusty sigh. “I’m the kind of girl a guy comes to when he’s in trouble, when he needs comfort. I’m the dependable type. A guy can come to my place—before it burned down, I mean—and I would cook him an excellent dinner. And until my recent financial crisis, I was always good for a loan if a guy was broke.”

  He nuzzled her hair aside and caught her earlobe between his teeth. “I don’t need a loan, but you can cook for me anytime.”

  “And that’s another thing…” She gasped as he took her by the waist and lifted her. “Jed!” She clutched at his shoulders. “What are you doing?”

  He plunked her down on the island. “Getting eye-to-eye.”

  She shivered. “This granite is cold.”

  He nudged her thighs apart and stepped between them. “Let me heat you up.” He got right to work on that, using his palms, rubbing her bare thighs in long, lingering strokes.

  She laughed then, a sweet and nervous sound. “You never give up, do you?”

  “Not a chance. What other thing?” When she frowned in puzzlement, he reminded her, “I said you can cook for me anytime, and you said ‘that’s another thing.’”

  “Oh, right…” She chewed the corner of her lip, her eyes wide and anxious.

  “Well?” He bent forward just enough to kiss the tip of her nose again.

  “I probably shouldn’t admit it…”

  “Of course you should. Tell me.”

  “Well, speaking of food, the truth is I’ve put on some weight since I lost everything.”

  “Have you, now?”

  “Sometimes it takes a lot of donuts to make a girl forget her troubles.”

  “And to that I have to say, thank God for donuts.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means the donuts look good on you and you should keep eating them.”

  “You don’t really mean that.”

  “Elise. You ought to know me well enough by now to realize that I don’t bother to say things I don’t mean. I like a woman to be womanly. Curvy. Soft.”

  “Well, I’m certainly that these days.”

  “Oh, yes you are.” He cradled her face between his palms and stole yet another kiss. She sighed against his lips and then opened for him.

  For a little while, except for the occasional soft, urgent moan, the kitchen was quiet. He unbuttoned her shirt, taking his time about it, working his way down, until the shirt was open and he could slip his hand inside, where she was so soft and perfect.

  He cradled her breast, finding her nipple hidden under the lace. He flicked it with his thumb, enjoying the way it hardened into a tight little knot. At the same time, he trailed his mouth downward over her chin, her throat, to the two pretty points of her collarbone. He scraped his teeth against those.

  She whispered his name then… “Jed…” It sounded so good, his name on her lips, a breathless, hungry little cry. The woman got him hard without even trying to. He took her lips again. “Jed…” She said it into his mouth that time. He drank it right down.

  So good, the fresh, clean scent of her, turning musky and mouthwatering as he stroked her bare thighs and rubbed at her soft belly and then slipped his fingers around to unhook the clasp of her bra.

  “Oh!” she cried. “I know what you’re doing, Jed,” she scolded as the clasp gave way.

  He chuckled, something he didn’t do every day. Then he eased her shirt off her plump shoulders and peeled off her bra. Now, he had her naked from the waist up and he felt really good about that.

  Until she suddenly rediscovered the concept of modesty and brought up her arms to cover those round, ripe breasts he’d been waiting to see for weeks now. “Don’t do it, Elise.” He caught her wrists, one and then the other, and guided them back down. “Hold on to the counter.”

  She let out a low whimper of sound, but she did what he told her to.

  He went to work on the cutoffs, undoing the metal button at the top, sliding the zipper down. Her little panties were pink. She wouldn’t have them on for long.

  “Lie back,” he instructed.

  “This is very unsanitary. Jed, we eat lunch here.”

  “Shh. Lie back.”

  “Oh, dear…” But she did it, went over onto her back. She stared up at the beamed ceiling and whispered, “This is so not me.”

  “Elise.” He stroked both palms down one glorious thigh, over her knee and her calf to her boot. “Take my word for it.” He pulled off the boot and dropped it to the floor. “It’s you.”

  He took the other boot next, and then the little yellow socks she wore underneath them.

  “So pretty.” He moved in close again, bending over her where she was spread out on the counter, his own personal feast. He cupped both of her full breasts, one in either hand. All soft and white, they just happened to fit his palms exactly right. And then he spent a few minutes kissing her pretty pink nipples, taking turns on one and then the other, until she couldn’t hold back her moans and she lifted her hips to him, rocking, begging him with that lush body of hers to give her more.

  He had more for her.

  He had lots and lots more.

  The Daisy Duke cutoffs had to go next. He hooked his fingers under the waistband on either side. “Lift up.”

  She whimpered in protest. But she lifted. He whipped them down and tossed them away. He left her the panties, for the moment. They were so innocent and pink and he wanted to look at them, wanted to play with her through the cotton and lace.

  He took her hips and pulled her right to the edge of the counter, moving in good and close, so his body opened her legs for him. And then he bent over her again.

  “Jed, I…”

  “Shh…” So much to enjoy. He hardly knew where to start.

  He got to work, kissing. Touching. Biting a little, exploring the sweet, shadowed places—behind her ear, along the lush under curves of her breasts. And lower.

  Her belly called his name. He answered with his lips, his tongue, the edges of his teeth, dipping into her navel, biting the beautiful rounded curve below it.

  She wiggled and moaned and then whimpered, “Jed?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you have, you know, condoms?”

  “I do.”

  “I keep thinking this is a bad idea.”

  “Thinking.” He dropped a line of kisses along the lacy top edge of her panties. “That’s your problem. You shouldn’t be thinking. Stop.”

  “But I—”

  “Shh…” He put his open mouth against her mound, right over the pink cotton that covered her from his sight.

  “Oh, my goodness…”

  He had to agree. The scent of her alone was pure heaven. A man could die happy with the smell of her around him. He drew in a big breath and he released it against the pink-covered core of her.

  “I… Oh! Oh, my!”

  “Baby, you are the hottest thing.” He kept kissing her, breathing against her, heating her further through her little pink panties.

  “But I’m not, I… Oh. My. Golly.” She speared her fingers in his hair. “Oh, now that! Jed!”

  “Hmm?”

  “Yes! Please! That.”

  He chu
ckled again. Tonight he was a chuckling fool. He ached to have her, to just tear those panties right off, rip his fly wide and bury himself in her, hard and deep.

  But half the fun was making it last, driving both of them crazy, making both of them burn. He slid his hand up her thigh again as she wriggled and moaned for him. “Wet,” he whispered against her core, easing a finger in under the elastic, then nudging it aside farther with his nose. Silky. Hot. Dripping with need. “So wet, sweetheart. So fine…”

  She clutched at his shoulders. “I never get like this…”

  “You do now. And I like you like this. I like it a lot.” And enough with the panties. Now they were just in his way. He used both hands, taking one side and then the other, tearing them at the seams, ripping them away.

  With a sharp gasp, she lifted her head off the counter and accused, “You just ruined my panties.”

  “Sorry, beautiful.” He tossed the torn pink scraps over his shoulder. “They had to go. Now, where was I?”

  “Oh, my goodness…” She let her head fall back.

  And he lifted her thighs, hooked them over his shoulders and bent to his work. She was so wet and open and ready, slick and eager, defenseless against him. He tasted her deeply, using his fingers, too, as she rocked and moaned and pulled at his hair. She was sweet and salty on his tongue, drenched and so willing now, opening her legs wider as he kissed her. She’d flown right past her own objections. She was no longer afraid.

  She offered him everything, all of her.

  He would definitely take that: all of Elise.

  “Oh!” she cried again and pumped her hips faster, letting her thighs fall open even wider, bracing her feet on his back. He speared his tongue in, stroked her faster and deeper with his fingers and stuck with her as she climbed toward the finish.

  When she shattered, he held on, riding it out with her, drinking her sweetness as she chanted his name.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Several minutes passed.

  Elise was gone. Done. Finished. She felt as though she’d left her body behind, as though she floated near the ceiling, that she was nothing but a moonbeam, a thoroughly satisfied shimmer of pale, vibrant light.