In Mistletoe

by Tammy L. Bailey

  “I’m not going to seduce you, Grace. I’m just giving you something else to wear. It’s much warmer than what you’re clad in at the moment. Like I said, it can get cold in here at night.”

  He yanked the ends of his shirt out of his jeans, adjusted his black T-shirt and stalked the rest of the way over to hand her the button-down. She hesitated before dropping the blanket and plastering his offering against her damp body.

  “Oh,” she said, hurriedly jamming her arms into the sleeves and crossing the front like a shield. Not once did he think to glance away. The hem of the shirt skimmed across a pair of silken thighs, their curves more than inviting in the firelight.

  “I want that shirt back before you leave,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “Don’t think I won’t find a way to get it back if you have a mind to take it with you.”

  She sent him a curt, wordless nod before reaching up to tuck a dark lock behind her ear. He stood in her presence, not moving and not wanting to leave. He had too much he wanted to know about her, and not just how her skin tasted or how her lips felt pressed against his.

  “Well…I’m up at six every morning,” he said, jerking himself from his dangerous thoughts. “Whenever you’re ready, we can start searching for some clues to your sister’s…disappearance.”

  He turned before Grace said a word, content to block out the sweet smell of warmed sugar and vanilla lotion drifting to him from her glistening skin.

  In desperate need of a cold shower, he left the room and let the icy water flow over him before retiring for the rest of the night. His mind swirling with the events of the day, he lay upon his bed, shirtless, his body craving a small sampling of the woman who occupied the next room. After counting beer, boards, and nails for over an hour, he thought he’d succeeded in drifting into an agitated doze when the sound of shattered glass and a woman’s scream split the night.

  He bolted upright, jammed into some jeans, and tore into the hall, fumbling for the knob to Grace’s room. With his heart pounding and his stomach tied into a sickening knot, he yanked the door open, his name on her lips.

  “Ayden?”

  “Grace?” he echoed into the muted firelight.

  At his voice, she rushed forward and straight into his arms. He still didn’t know what caused the crashing until he caught site of the window, an angry icy wind fluttering one sheer curtain, the other struggling to free itself of the saw-toothed windowpane.

  “What happened?” he murmured.

  Grace mumbled an incoherent answer, her hot breath playing like fire against his bare skin. As her hands wrapped around his waist, he searched anxiously for what caused such a hellacious crash.

  On the floor about four feet in front of him, lay a rock about the size of his fist.

  He made a low growl in his throat, the sound causing Grace’s trembling body to pull back.

  Still wearing his flannel, she glanced up. He cupped his hands to her face and lowered his body to gaze straight into her frightened eyes. “Are you all right?”

  Before she could answer, a whizzing sound pierced the air. Another rock, this time larger, whirled into the room and skidded to a stop one foot away. Grace let out another scream and threw herself against him, wrapping her small arms around his waist. Her body trembled and her heart thumped so hard he could feel it batter against his bare skin.

  “God,” he exhaled, realizing how dependent she was on him to keep her safe. It was empowering and damn frightening at the same time. “Grace,” he said again, trying to separate her enough to see her face. When she agitated her head and clung tighter to him, her small palms branding his flesh, he thought for such a little thing, she possessed an enormous amount of strength. “Grace, I want you to go to my room and shut the door. All right?”

  Her rapid exhales fanned across his chest, and he lifted his head to draw in a controlling breath. The intoxicating smell of her sweet skin wrapped around his senses, igniting his blood and the pulsating points in his body. He realized, for the first time, he hadn’t thought much of this agreement through. Where he liked a pair of sashaying hips and a woman who knew what to do with them, he’d found Grace. Only, he wasn’t supposed to find her appealing or sensual, and yet, as he stood there, in the middle of whatever the hell was going on outside his window, all he wanted was to lower his mouth and discover the taste of her tongue as it intertwined with his.

  “Go to my room, now,” he ground out, causing Grace to jump slightly away from him. He lifted his hands and wrapped them around her upper arms, pulling her away. She blinked her long lashes, her hazel eyes large and staring at him with surprise and confusion. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he assured her with a softer tone.

  Her gaze darted to the open door and then back to him before she nodded and walked away. He watched her go, her hips swaying with a soft glide that was all her own. He stood unmoving, waiting for the sharp and lusting arousal to subside. Then he stomped downstairs to gather his winter garb. With both his mind and body in turmoil with one another, he seized the doorknob and turned the cold metal with a mighty vengeance.

  The night air smacked him in the face, the lamp from his porch, spotlighting the trespasser and possible vandal.

  “Eloise Riley?” he called as the familiar silhouette of his ex-girlfriend, thrice removed, scurried into view.

  “Ayden, I’m so sorry about your window,” she said, her breath spilling out in puffy white clouds. “I merely wanted to get your attention.”

  He only had to take one look down the length of her long lavender trench coat to know she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Someone could have gotten hurt,” he scolded her.

  She drew back, and he knew he’d wounded her by his blistering response. “Well, you weren’t waking up fast enough,” she said, her teeth starting to chatter.

  “You targeted the wrong room, El!”

  Her lips protruded in a pout. Despite his anger, he felt sorry for her. “Come on. I’ll make some coffee to warm you up, but then you’ll have to go.”

  A smile returned to her captivating and painted face. The ruby red lipstick and fake lashes irritated him. He had to admit, however, she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever dated. With sleek blonde hair and brown eyes, he wondered why she never pursued a career in modeling. Instead, she became an elementary schoolteacher, moving to Mistletoe with the intent of becoming a full-time writer during summer break. Then her long legs and willowy form had intrigued him right away. However, after two dates she talked of marriage and moving in, and not necessarily in that order.

  He’d tried to slow things down but became restless after three months, calling it quits in the middle of O’Shannon’s.

  To keep both of them from getting pneumonia, he grasped her hand, noting how different her palm felt against his as compared with Grace. El had longer fingers and she gripped hard as if she was afraid he might let go sooner than she wanted.

  On purpose, he guided her into the house with his left hand so he could let go to switch on the kitchen light. “Have a seat,” he said, in a less than inviting tone.

  El slinked away, doing a poor job of keeping the coat clasped shut. As predicted, she wore nothing underneath except a black lace bra and a pair of matching panties. At any other time, he might allow his gaze to linger on her slender form. Tonight, he just wanted to go check on Grace.

  “Why are you so angry?”

  Ayden pressed the button on the coffeepot to heat the water before rotating back around. El had come for one reason and one reason only. The blasted flyer his sister had posted. As much as he loved Maggie, he wanted to strangle her at this very moment. After all he’d done, everything he’d given up for her, this was her thanks to him.

  The coffeepot began to hum, so he popped a dark roast in the machine, not even sure what kind of coffee El preferred. Either he didn’t remember or he’d never asked. He brushed away the reasons and placed a medium-sized mug on the drip tray and punched the middle button. The less
he gave her to drink, the sooner he could check on Grace. Grace. Ever since she’d wrapped her small arms around his waist, he thought of little else but ways to have her do it again.

  Then the air changed behind him, and he whipped around to find El, her coat lying in a puddle at her long bare feet. Like any warm-blooded male, his gaze fell and locked on her full breasts. In a seductive motion, she raised a lengthy, mauve-painted fingernail to push the strap down around her upper arm. He realized he hadn’t been with a woman in a few months and believed if Grace hadn’t stirred his blood already, his body wouldn’t be jumping to attention with such arousing force.

  “I miss you, Ayden.” El motioned closer, her hands reaching out to spread open the coat he’d put on before traipsing outside. He wished he’d thought to put a shirt on underneath it. With his chest bare, her cold fingertips slithered up to cup the back of his head. He grabbed her wrists before she could stake her claim on his lips, shoving her away with a gentle push.

  “There’s someone else, El,” he said, intent to announce Grace’s name before things went any further.

  El’s response was to send him a coy smile and bite down on her lower lip. For whatever reason, she always went overboard, trying too hard when it came to them. She also always wore a little too much perfume, nothing subtle or intoxicating, like vanilla and sugar.

  “Yes, Ayden, there’s always someone else with you, but you’re never serious. I think…I think we had something special, and if you give me another chance, I promise I won’t mention having babies or getting married.”

  “Babies?” Now, that was a new one.

  Eloise stretched her long neck forward and kissed him firm on the lips. The sharp intake of breath from the doorway caused both of them to push away from each other.

  Ayden lifted his head to find Grace standing a few feet away still wearing his shirt, her dark lashes fluttering with curiosity…and uncertainty.

  El was the first to talk, not even attempting to hide herself from Grace’s shocked gaze. “Oh, well, I didn’t realize you had company, Ayden.”

  He opened his mouth to say…something when Grace pulled herself from her stupor and padded over to where El stood. Grace lowered her gaze to the woman’s feet and then back up to rest on her face. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. My name is Grace Evans, and I’m Ayden’s girlfriend.”

  Ayden sliced a glance at El who stood, her mouth open, her eyes narrowed at Grace. “I don’t believe that for a second,” she said, her head tilted at a haughty angle.

  “It’s because I’m pretty, isn’t it?”

  Grace lifted one dark eyebrow, waiting for El to answer her question.

  El huffed out a sigh. “As a matter of fact, you’re not Ayden’s—”

  “Type.” Grace nodded. “I know.”

  The two women stared at each other until El let out an unfeminine growl, scooped up her coat and dashed out of the room. When the door slammed in the foyer, Ayden turned to Grace and smirked.

  “That was interesting.”

  She agreed with a bob of her head. God, she was a sight to see. Her dark hair lay frizzy on one side and the sleeve of his oversized shirt hung off her left shoulder.

  “Do you always have half-naked women come to your door in the middle of the night?”

  He had to think about this one. “Define always?”

  “Geez.” She rolled her eyes and walked away, disappearing into the foyer, her footsteps light on the stairway.

  For a long time, he leaned against the sink, the aroma of rich coffee and Grace Evans keeping him in place. At half past two, he finally ambled back up the dark staircase and stepped into his room. He was about to shed his jeans when he realized his bed lay occupied.

  He ambled closer to where Grace slept, a demure hand resting at her face and the other tucked under her chin.

  A sliver of moonlight danced upon her cheeks as a wisp of breath sounded through her closed lips. A primitive curiosity urged him forward; however, a gallant disposition made him lift the quilted blankets to sweep them over her shapely hips.

  Wide-awake, he sauntered back to her room and began the task of cleaning up. After covering the open window with an old bedspread and refilling the fireplace with enough wood to last through the night, Ayden plopped onto the springy mattress and prayed for sleep, his mind resting long before his roused body.

  Chapter Six

  A dust of the sun’s first rays crept across Grace’s closed eyelids, stirring her awake. She stretched and yawned, the stimulating scent of spice and crisp cologne forcing her to remember where she was, and why.

  In a flash, her mind whipped to Danielle, and then Mistletoe, and then Ayden McCabe. Of course, this led her to remember the half-naked woman standing in his kitchen, their lips locked together in a steamy interlude. Her stomach gave a strange revolting twist. No. She would not feel jealousy for a man who didn’t know how to remain faithful, even if they were in a fake relationship.

  “Humph,” she grunted, remembering how angry he became when he thought she was about to mention her ex.

  Even though she hadn’t heard from Rick in two weeks, she was expecting his call. He always reached out to her when he thought she had moved on without him. Unfortunately, Grace had yet to learn those baby steps, choosing to stand still or even stand up for herself. Ah, until then.

  For now, she needed her phone. She had to see if her mother had called with any news about Danielle. Of course, she was also curious if Rick had called, damn him. Only her phone was in the other room where she was sure Ayden slept.

  On a sigh, she closed her eyes and relived the night before and the feel of Ayden’s arms wrapped around her and her cheek pressed against his bare chest. Not that Rick wasn’t muscular, but he wasn’t as tall and he always smelled of whatever cologne he’d sampled at the closest pharmacy on the way to her place. She didn’t know if this made him too undependable or just plain cheap. Either way, she loved Ayden’s scent. His cologne was subtle but masculine and mingled well with the smoky Mistletoe air.

  Still unsettled by what she had seen in the kitchen, she peeled back the covers and crept across the hall. She hesitated at the doorway, until, on tiptoes, she infringed upon the cloaked room.

  She held back a shiver as cold air poured in from behind a patchwork quilt hung in a haphazard manner across the broken window. Though beautiful and well crafted, it did little to cut the arctic air, not that the magnificent figure sprawled across the dainty bed seemed to mind.

  He lay half-bared, the heavy blankets pulled to his waist, exposing the taut contours of his washboard stomach and the smoothed hardness of his chest. Her insides fluttered with cautious awe, her rebellious mind able to imagine a night wrapped in his powerful embrace.

  Heel to toe she treaded forward until her bare knees grazed the bed and her feet rested atop a white and maroon Ziegler rug. Her mistake was not in her approach, but the long exhaled sigh of whimsical wonder.

  As quick as a blink, he reached up and hauled her down, her heart pounding in erratic cadence as his powerful body crushed her against the coil mattress.

  “Never sneak up on a man when he’s sleeping,” Ayden rasped.

  Grace stared up into the harsh lines of his handsome face, his eyes closed and his jaw jumping with irritation. She knew she’d surprised him. Still, knowing this was her fault, did little to lessen the fact she lay underneath him, her pulse throbbing, a tremor of heat rippling along her stretched spine.

  No longer chilled, her mind clamored for a reason to push him away. At last, his eyelids opened, his deep blue eyes glittering with an emotion she’d never seen before. His jaw chiseled, his mouth slightly open, she waited for him to say something, do something.

  In the frosty silence, an overwhelming urge to lift her head and touch her lips to his, began to weave uncharted thoughts through her mind. She believed he had the same thought, when the familiar ring tone of Eminem and Rihanna’s duet of “I Love the Way You Lie” resonated t
hrough the room.

  “Rick!” she cried, using her arms to shove at Ayden’s chest.

  “It’s Ayden, sweetheart.” He rolled to one side to set her free.

  This was the call she’d been waiting for…since yesterday…before meeting Ayden McCabe. Weak kneed and frantic, she scurried away and across the bed on all fours, falling flat on her stomach to retrieve her large knockoff handbag from the floor. As the song played, she righted herself and flipped the guilt-laden present from Rick upside down, spilling the contents a few inches from Ayden’s elbow.

  In her haste, she’d forgotten about the romance novel she’d bought before getting on the train, a book with a muscular kilted man on the front, holding a bodice-popping woman with fiery red hair. Before she could stuff the guilty indulgence back inside her purse, Ayden plucked it from her unsteady hands.

  “Give it back.”

  He ignored her and turned to the earmarked page, his gaze skimming over the passage she’d last read. Fire lit into Grace’s face, remembering, with lascivious clarity, the lovemaking scene between the two characters. All the while, her phone continued to ring. Impatient and embarrassed, she held her hand out, waiting for Ayden to give her back the book. Only, he didn’t, his gaze lowered to the descriptive and bold words. Desperate, she lunged at him, missing horribly, and landing halfway off the bed, her head dangling close to the floor. After she’d righted herself, she realized the room had grown silent. Her phone stopped ringing.

  Dammit!

  “Her quivering breasts—”

  Mortified, Grace attempted to snatch the book back, only to have him pull it away. She was about to go after it when the familiar ring echoed in the cold room.

  Her mind raced, her pulse fluttered, though the origins she’d yet to distinguish. She planned her thoughts and practiced her words. Not this time, Rick. You’re a bastard. Leave me alone. I hate you. Yes, I guess we could work it out. They all came to mind at the same time.

  Unsure what she’d say once she heard his voice again, however, she swiped at the smudges under her eyes and smoothed down her hair.