“Go on in, Bret,” Lissa said, motioning to an open door on the right of her desk with a smile that was so syrupy it would rot teeth. “He should be back any minute.”
“When I get Rhetta back,” Sam said, picking up their conversation as they entered the judge’s chambers, “I’m going home.” She flicked a tiny ornament on the miniature Christmas tree sitting on the massive desk. “I’ve had about all the Christmas I can stand.”
“Tonight’s the Christmas caroling on the square. I thought, after that, we could have a nice dinner. I bought you a Christmas present,” he added with a smile.
She thought of the present she’d bought him and wished she’d had more money to spend. “You really didn’t need to buy me any—”
“I know I didn’t need to—I wanted to do it.” He nudged her elbow. “Here’s the judge. Stand up.”
Samantha wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the short, round gentleman with a white beard, fishing waders, and a hat covered in what she assumed were fishing lures. What was it about the town that all the old men looked like Santa Claus?
“Sit, sit,” Sportsfishing Santa said with a wave of his hand as he took his place behind the desk. He flipped through the open file and then looked up at Sam, his blue eyes like truth-seeking lasers. “Says here you broke into a house. That so?”
“Well, yes, but I—”
“Breaking and entering is a crime. Even if you didn’t take anything.”
“I wasn’t going to steal anything! And I didn’t even mean to break into the house.” She leaned forward, ignoring Bret’s hand on her elbow. “Judge, do you own a dog?”
“’Course. Finest hunting dog I’ve ever had. But what does that have to do with your case?”
“My dog, Rhetta, was stolen.” She dug around in her bag and then pulled out a photo she’d had taken at the pet store last Easter. “That’s Rhetta. My ex-boyfriend took her while I was out and gave her to his new girlfriend—”
“The Wileys have been married longer than you’ve been alive. I don’t see Mrs. Wiley carrying on.”
“I know! I was confused and thought their house was her house.” Tears welled. She choked out her plea. “I just wanted to get my dog back, and it all went terribly wrong.”
“Did you ever think of just asking the woman for your dog?”
“Your honor,” Bret interjected, “she was under a lot of stress. The breakup was a shock. I’m sure, in her state of mind, she went for the simplest solution.” Samantha nodded. “She just wanted her dog back and didn’t realize she was breaking the law.”
“Well, because the Wileys appreciated your apology and don’t want to press charges and nothing was harmed or stolen,” the judge said, scribbling on the papers, “I’m going to dismiss the whole thing.” He looked up, smiling, the light from the window reflecting off the dancing lures on his hat. “And, because it’s Christmas, I’m not charging court costs.” He stood. “Now go have yourself a Merry Christmas and let me get back to my fishing.”
“Oh, thank you! I—”
“Ho-ho,-ho! Merry Christmas!” the judge called as he walked down the hallway.
“Did he just say ho-ho-ho?”
Bret shrugged. “It’s a Christmas thing.” He settled his Stetson on his head and ushered her toward the elevator. “When you called me to come get you, I called the service station about your car. We can swing by there on our way home. It’s just on the other side of the square. Then I need to go back to work for a while.”
Sam pulled to a stop across the street from Bambi’s house and prayed her car would start again with its new battery. She glanced at the clock. Just enough time to appeal to Bambi and possibly get Rhetta before she had to be back to the bank for dinner and caroling.
She paused with her fingers clutching the car door handle. Crap, this cannot be happening! She watched as Bret made his way up the steps of Bambi’s house and rang the doorbell.
Was it some kind of curse that the men in her life were attracted to Bambi? There was no reason for Bret to be there.
Yes, in her heart she knew Bret was nothing like Sean. If he had gone to see Bambi, there had to be a good reason. She hoped.
A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she drove back to the bank and parked. Tomorrow would be soon enough to get Rhetta and leave Christmas. Assuming Bret wasn’t dumping her, too, she wanted one more night with the sexy science teacher/deputy. She needed one more night. Just to say good-bye, of course.
Dinner was probably wonderful—after all, Bret’s grandmother had prepared it—but Samantha was too sad to taste much. True, she’d wanted to escape Christmas—the holiday and the town—but now that the time was drawing near, she discovered she was going to miss it. Miss Bret. Miss Bambi. Heck, she was even going to miss seeing Santa everywhere she turned.
She glanced across the table at Bret. Candlelight may have been becoming for women, but it was not too shabby for him either. Tears burned the backs of her eyelids.
Tonight. She just had to get through tonight.
Her feet dragged when Bret insisted they go watch the carolers on the square. If this was the last night they had, she wanted to spend it in Bret’s bed, not standing around watching a bunch of people sing.
However, she soon was caught up in the spirit, joining in on the carols and returning smiles. The caroler stroll culminated in front of the courthouse at the manger, where children gave a wild and hilarious performance of the nativity.
Wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, she walked hand in hand with Bret toward the bank. “Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time.”
He chuckled, the sound settling in her stomach. “My pleasure. That suicidal shepherd stole the show!” His laughter echoed again. “I always thought using towels and rope was a bad idea around little boys. I lost it when he started tugging on the rope and it fell around his neck!”
After their laughter subsided, Sam said, “How about when one of the wise men decided to sit in the manger and broke the crib? Somehow a baby Jesus doll, headfirst in a metal wastebasket, doesn’t seem the same.”
Bret laughed as he unlocked his door. “I can’t wait to see my kids up there in a Christmas play someday.”
Their eyes met.
Sadness washed over Samantha. His kids. His kids with someone else. Would Bret even remember their time together?
Bret closed the door behind them, pulling her into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers in a hunger that matched her own. Almost.
Clothing seemed to fall away as he backed her toward the sectional. His mouth and hands were everywhere. She clung to him, desperate for the sexual gratification only he could give her. Desperate for him. Desperate for his love or whatever he could give her in the time they had left.
She whimpered when he broke the kiss and pulled back. Clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into his warm flesh, she tried to pull him back to her eager body.
“What about the shades?” he asked, his breath coming in harsh pants, his hand busy with her erect nipples.
“I don’t care. I want you. Now!”
“Well, I do care. And I have a plan, a plan that doesn’t include anyone watching what we’re doing.”
“Oh?” She dragged the tips of her breasts across his chest.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about leaving Christmas.”
Her stomach clenched. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
What was he saying? “But I have a life, a job in Houston.”
“We have dentists here. They’re always looking for good hygienists.” He backed her against the arm of the sofa and then surprised her by flipping her to her stomach against the soft microfiber upholstery.
He pushed her legs apart, his hot breath fanning her. The velvet of his tongue, taking a leisurely lap, had her gasping.
“I could come to your office,” he said, his voice vibrating against her. His tongue speared he
r in quick, hard thrusts, withdrawing before she could settle into a rhythm. “We could adjust the dental chair and do this,” he said, his hot breath ratcheting her pleasure up a notch before he closed his mouth over her and sucked.
Her climax washed over her, drowning her in sensation. Her nipples puckered into aching buds.
He moved between her spread legs and entered her with a hard, deep thrust she felt all the way to her ribs. “And this,” he said in a hard whisper.
After she’d come again, he lifted her and walked into his office. With one arm, he cleared the desk and then laid her on the cool wood, arranging her to his satisfaction. “And you could come to school to visit me after class, and we could do this.” He bent to pull her aching clit deep into his mouth and suck.
Sensation shot to her nipples, intensified by the gentle pinching of his hands while he sucked her third orgasm from her excited body.
She’d scarcely had time to breathe before he pulled on her legs, sliding her bottom closer on the slick desk surface, tugging until she sat straddling him on the desk chair.
She returned his kiss with all the passion consuming her, tasting her excitement on his tongue, breathing in the musky scent of their lovemaking, wild for him. For them, together.
He arched his hips, impaling her, the old chair creaking with each thrust. She tightened her knees, riding him hard while he sucked her breasts with such intensity, she felt it between her legs.
They climaxed together, their panting breaths echoing from the high ceiling.
He swirled his tongue around the tip of one nipple and then gently rubbed it between his teeth before releasing with a soft kiss.
He kissed his way up her throat to her ear. “Ready for your Christmas present?”
She gave a languid stretch, enjoying his intake of breath as she rubbed against him. “That wasn’t it?”
“Nope. That was just the warmup. Here.” He wrapped her in the throw from the couch. “Wait here. I’ll get it.”
After watching the enticing play of muscles on his butt as he walked away, she stood and pulled the throw closer as she padded to the sofa to get her present for him out of her bag.
“Hey, you moved.” Bret walked toward her, a festive-looking present in his hand. She was disappointed to see he’d donned a pair of boxers. “I was thinking we might see what positions we could come up with on the weight bench or treadmill.”
“I think we could come up with some better stuff in your bed.” Noticing his hot gaze, she let the throw slide from her shoulders, exposing her breasts.
His boxers had a noticeable bulge when he stepped forward and pulled the throw back up to cover her. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” His teeth gleamed white in the dimness. “Here. Merry Christmas, Samantha.”
Her fingers shook so badly it took a while to open the little box. “You’re going to have to turn on a light so I can see.”
While she finished opening her gift, Bret lit a fat candle on the side table, bathing them in a golden glow.
“Oh!” Tears blurred her vision—probably from the candle, because she’d sworn there would be no sentimental tears—as she held aloft a fine gold chain with a tiny pair-of-dangling-handcuffs pendant. “It’s beautiful. And very thoughtful. Thank you.” She brushed her lips across his, took a deep breath, and handed him his gift. “Great minds must think alike.”
His laugh echoed from the tile when he pulled out her gag gift, a pair of purple fuzzy handcuffs she’d found at the little sex shop Bambi had recommended outside of town.
“I love them!” He kissed her and winked. “Want to try them out later?”
“I could probably be persuaded. Keep going. There’s more.”
“The key to my heart,” he read on the sequin-encrusted box.
She held her breath while he opened the box and examined the key-shaped vibrator touted as the ultimate couple’s pleasure device.
His heated gaze met hers. “Oh, yeah, we will definitely be giving this a workout tonight.” After a carnal kiss, he whispered against her lips, “I just have one more present. Be right back.”
“I don’t need—” She clung to him, but he managed to step back, silencing her with a finger on her lips.
“Shhh. I promise you you’re going to love this one. I’ll be right back.”
She watched him leave the room, pulling the throw closer to stave off the sudden chill.
The only thing she really loved had just walked out of the room.
Against all odds, she’d fallen in love. Practically at first sight. How stupid was that?
A clicking sound echoed in the quiet room. Wiping away a tear, Sam looked up to see Bret walking toward her, his hand on a leash.
Rhetta gave a joyful bark and rushed toward Sam, who dropped to her knees to receive sloppy doggy kisses.
After burying her teary face in the warm, stubby fur of Rhetta’s nape and hugging the dog so tightly she squirmed, Sam looked up through her tears at Bret’s smiling face.
His gift proved good guys still existed. Rhetta was the reason he’d been at Bambi’s. He’d gotten Sam’s dog back for her, even knowing it would mean she could go home, would go home and leave him.
“Thank you,” she whispered around the lump in her throat. “I love you,” slipped out before she could monitor her words.
The declaration hung in the air between them as the seconds ticked by.
She closed her eyes, humiliation heating her cheeks. How had she been so careless as to let the words fall out of her mouth? Even if it was true, as she suspected, Bret was probably horrified. She wouldn’t blame him if he ran away screaming.
Warm lips brushed against her eyelids. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, tugging her to her feet. She opened her eyes.
“Now that you have Rhetta back, how long do we have before you leave Christmas?”
We have dentists here. They’re always looking for good hygienists. Bret’s earlier words echoed in her head.
She looped her arms around his neck, hoping she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life. “Oh, there’s no real rush. I’m thinking maybe twenty or thirty years.”
Bret’s green eyes glowed with heat and…something else. Did she dare hope?
“I think Rhetta will excuse us while we go upstairs for a while.” He gathered Sam close, lifting her in his arms as he strode to the elevator.
As the elevator doors whooshed shut, Sam caught a glimpse of her dog, head cocked to one side as she watched her mistress being carried away by a virtual stranger. Which was very un-Rhetta-like.
Her heart fluttered. Maybe it was a sign her pet agreed Bret was the right one for her.
APHRODISIA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2009 by Kensington Publishing Corp.
“Naughty or Nice” © copyright 2009 by Crystal Jordan
“Nativity Island” © copyright 2009 by Lorie O’Clare
“Escaping Christmas” © copyright 2009 by P.J. Mellor
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 0-7582-4855-5
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