Kiss or Kill Under the Northern Lights

by Susan Johnson

“Not your dress! This dress would require taking off the safe search filter.”

  “It’s from the mall.” She held her hand out expecting him to hand it over.

  “Does your mom know you own this?”

  “She bought it.” Megan reached, trying to snatch it away. “Mom’s in on the catch."

  “The catch? No!” Dodging, he shoved the dress into the shopping bag.

  “You can’t tell me no!”

  “This time I can.” He stuck his chin out and added, “As your friend.”

  “Friend.” Her shoulders slumped.

  “It’s too much. You’re not like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “He’ll get the wrong idea.”

  “What makes you think I can’t be like that?”

  “La-la-la.” He put his hands over his ears.

  “TJ?” She waited for his hands to drop. “It’s not that bad.”

  “It is.”

  “What if I try it on and show you?”

  “No! Do you want the devil to come get me?” He backed out the room.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Return the dress! He doesn’t deserve it.” TJ slammed the door.

  6

  Day 4—Cook

  Shielding his eyes from the morning sun, TJ stood outside the nursery, stealing glances at the parking lot. He shoved his clipboard at Brody, his best buddy and project manager. Around them, trucks got loaded and teams organized. TJ puffed up his chest as Megan’s little silver car made the circle around the lot to park next to the parade truck. She’d spend the day there working her drawing magic. He fabricated the excuse to keep her close because he was already missing her.

  Brody lowered the clipboard and let out a long breath.

  “What?” TJ said.

  “Nobody saw anything yesterday. We were too busy watching you run like a fool.”

  “Fine.” TJ rolled his shoulders, embarrassed. How would he get through the day? Yesterday’s flashing, near-kiss, trashy-dress encounter had stirred up steamy forbidden thoughts about his Meg-doll, filling his head with alarming temptation. Heaven, help him.

  “You’re jealous,” Brody said.

  “Protective.”

  Brody guffawed like TJ had said something funny, then asked, “Is she still in hot pursuit?”

  “She’s going to get hurt.” Telling Brody about the Tomcat Plan was a mistake. His friend found it hysterical for reasons TJ couldn’t fathom.

  Brody shook his head, studying the space between his shoes, not agreeing, not disagreeing.

  “He can’t be The One.” TJ rubbed at his neck, stretching open the collar of his shirt.

  He may have overstepped when he’d snuck back inside and stolen the cheap dress, leaving a twenty-dollar bill in its place. The anticipation of how and when she planned to kill him for interfering was driving him nuts. He watched her approach and figured the wait was over.

  “Morning,” Doll said, smiling up at him, holding a suspicious plate of cookies. She didn’t look murderous. It was confusing. Her baby-blue tee matched her eyes, her ginger hair twisted into a soft braid, and she wore his holiday gift, the red-checked shirt, tied around her waist. He couldn’t take his eyes off her brand of pretty. Then he reassured himself he was simply relieved that she was properly dressed.

  “You brought treats.” Biting into a cookie, he wondered if her pink cheeks had to do with yesterday’s unveiling.

  “Triple chocolate chip.”

  “These are great.” TJ chewed, contemplating his options. He could soothe her worry. Let her know that the guys didn’t get an eyeful. Or would that reminder enflame her embarrassment?

  “Your favorite.” There was a pretty rosy color spreading over her cheeks as she looked up into his eyes.

  “Yep.” He couldn’t decide. He didn’t want to make the situation worse.

  “I made them special for you,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  “You’re the best.” At least she wasn’t mad.

  “I hoped you’d feel that way.” Her smile widened. A couple of his guys passed them, their arms loaded with hydrangeas.

  “What’s the occasion?” Why wasn’t she mad?

  “Just because…” She took a step closer. Her eyes flashed to Brody and back. Brody was rocking on his heels, grinning at the cookies.

  “Man, you have to try one,” TJ said. “These are fantastic.”

  Brody plucked a cookie from the plate she offered, chuckled and said, “Good luck with this one.” He nodded toward TJ, grinning from ear to ear.

  Two cookies slid right off the edge of the plate, crumbling between their feet, and TJ reached out to help steady Megan’s hold. He couldn’t get over her unsteady hand and the blaze of red flaring in her cheeks. Was she worried about today, about working for him? She looked too damn flustered.

  “Doll doesn’t need luck. She’s an artist. The truck will look amazing,” TJ said.

  Megan narrowed her eyes at him, and he wondered what he’d done wrong.

  “You’re the best. The best friend ever.” He squeezed her shoulder in a show of support.

  “Thanks,” she croaked out, then turned her face away, watching a couple of guys load a truck bed full of plants. After a quiet moment, she was suddenly in motion. “Take another one, TJ,” she said, “I’m off to make the rounds.”

  His face fell as she brushed past him, putting a little extra swing to her hips.

  “They’ll eat all my cookies,” he complained, watching her go, watching the way she moved like a woman, frustrated that he wasn’t allowed to notice such things.

  “The guys are evil that way.” Brody grinned.

  “Why is she giving away my cookies?” Then it dawned on him that this could be part of her insane plan.

  “You snooze, you lose.” Brody bit into his cookie, groaning with pleasure, as if lost in cookie bliss.

  “Right.” TJ’s stomach hurt. His guys were stopping their work, smiling at her, eating cookies. His cookies? “Do you think it’s Paul or Juno?” For an irrational moment, he thought about swooping her up and away to his office.

  “Who?” Brody appeared too freaking happy, licking chocolate off his fingers, making a disgusting smacking sound around a rotten, ridiculous smile.

  “Her guy. You know that horrific plan? Is it possible that he works here?” TJ watched Megan flirt with his men.

  “Probably.”

  “Probably!”

  “These guys know how to have a good time.” Brody’s cheeks went round, like he was trying to hold back a laugh.

  Nothing but silence came out of TJ’s open mouth.

  “It could be Erik,” Brody suggested, grinning like a loon.

  TJ’s gaze flew to the towering Nordic man, busy shoveling rocks as if they were cotton balls. TJ felt his biceps jump and bunch of their own accord.

  “Or maybe it’s me?” Brody made his oversized pecs bounce under the knit of his polo. Then he said, “Do you think I have a chance? Her head would fit perfect on my shoulder.”

  “Her head would fit perfect on anyone’s shoulder. She has a perfect head!” He sounded irrational. A man on the edge. Turning, he saw her. He had no idea she’d circled back to stand an arm length away. Her pretty mouth in the shape of a bow opened, then closed, her eyes narrowing up at him.

  “Whose head are you talking about?” Megan asked.

  TJ didn’t want to answer. She wasn’t meant to hear his ridiculous ramblings. So instead he said, “Looks like the cookies were a hit.” He whisked her into a quick embrace and snuggled her head into his shoulder, satisfied she was a perfect fit. There could never be better.

  7

  Day 5—Jealousy

  The jealousy plan hinged on TJ hating what came next as much as Megan did. Dressed in one of TJ’s old t-shirts, she curled herself into the pile of fluffy bed pillows and picked up her phone. Either he’d care or he wouldn’t. She felt sick about it.

  He answered on the first ring.


  “Sorry to call at the last minute, I know it’s pizza night, but I need to cancel.”

  “It’s okay, Doll. You’re tired,” TJ said. “The truck looks fantastic.”

  “Oh, thanks, but…I’m not tired. It’s…you know…day five.” She bit her lip over her nervous stuttering.

  “Right,” he clipped. She could imagine him running his hand through his hair and down over his face. “What’s five again?”

  “Jealousy,” she purred, mimicking seduction, while ignoring the clench of dismay seizing her from thighs to elbows. She tucked her feet under the covers to keep her from running.

  “Jealousy?”

  “Yep. So I’d better make sure I’m busy making him good and jealous.” She kept up the Jessica Rabbit voice, then pressed her fist to her lips to hold back a nervous giggle. She was a terrible liar, even if it wasn’t really a lie. She had to get off the phone.

  “What are you going to do?” His words took on a hard edge.

  “Can’t say.” She shifted her weight against the headboard and hugged a novel to her heart.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No.”

  “Doll, let me—”

  “No.”

  “But this guy—”

  She flipped the book to the back cover and read, “He has all the money in the world, but it can’t buy him love.”

  “What?”

  “And don’t even ask what I’m wearing.”

  “What? What! Megs? What does that mean? Megs! Don’t hang up!”

  8

  Day 6—Chemistry

  For years, pretending not to drool over TJ had seemed the wisest course of action. The desperate need to protect her heart from rejection, the need to preserve their friendship, the need to shelter herself from the overzealous advice of her wedding-hungry mother, was some heavy-hitting motivation. But cowards never win.

  “You should have kissed him Saturday. In the kitchen.” Her mother’s words hummed from the phone with enthusiastic wisdom. Nancy jumped full swing into her self-appointed position as Tomcat Consultant. “Then this would be a done deal.”

  Megan didn’t think The Plan would go this far, that she’d have to carry on to such lengths. Day six. Chemistry. If she felt it any more, she’d be stuck on him like a suction cup. Especially after the tub incident, when he lowered his mouth so delightfully close to hers, temptation at its finest. Ignoring her mother’s chocolate Kisses complaint once again, Megan said, “The bathroom fiasco was promising. There was a spark, I think.” Tightening the silk belt of her robe, she dressed for success.

  “Well, if naked worked once, dear, it should work again. Men are simple that way.”

  “Correction, I’m not getting naked, Mom. I’m prettily indisposed,” she said, yanking the socks off her ice-cold feet. “And I can’t believe you’re saying these things. What happened to cross your legs and sit up straight?”

  “Listen, honey, you have your forever at stake. What did you tell Thomas to get him to come over?”

  “I told him I have something special for him.”

  Her mother snorted.

  “I baked more cookies.” She could smell the heady sweetness of warm sugar and butter. The goodness drifted through the house to the bedroom where she waited, primping her casual sexy look, while spying glances out the window. The evening sunlight bounced off TJ’s windshield as he turned in to her driveway. “He’s here!”

  “Don’t forget to trick his lips onto yours. Kiss the breath right out of him. Climb him like a tree.”

  Megan hung up on her mother’s advice, tossed her phone aside, and dropped her pants. Catching them at her ankles, she went down. Scrambling up, with red knees and flushed cheeks, she hurried to the door, full of worry that she’d gone too far.

  “You’re here,” she said, greeting TJ with a girly smile and a cock to her hip, striking a bombshell pose.

  “Why do you look that way?” TJ scanned her from her red-polished toes to the longing in her eyes. Twice. Then focused on her pink knees. “Am I interrupting something? Because you said to stop over.” He craned his neck to take in the room, searching for company, looking like he wanted to flatten someone.

  “Don’t be silly. I just lost track of time pampering myself with a decadent girl evening.” She lowered her lashes and twirled a tumbled lock of hair around her finger, freeing it from the artful messy knot. “I’m running behind getting ready.” She had his full glorious attention; the subtle way he advanced reminded her of a lion.

  “You’re naked,” he roared.

  She ran a finger down the silky black robe laced with delicate pink cherry blossoms. “I’m not naked. You should know the difference.” She curved her lips upward with a knowing smile and said, “Remember day three?”

  “No more talking about day three. First that dress. Now this robe. It’s too short!” He couldn’t keep his eyes off it.

  “It’s standard length.” She planted her hands on her hips. He was overreacting.

  “If you so much as bend…” He waved his hand toward her lower half like he was shooing flies.

  “Underwear.” Her temper stirred with frustration. After all, he was the one who’d barged in on her naked earlier in the week. “Would you like to see?”

  Shocked eyes snapped to hers. “Is that one of those trick questions that’ll get me in trouble either way I answer?”

  She needed to calm him down. He should be dazzled, hoping for glimpses. He wore an expression of wild panic. The robe crossed the friendship zone barrier. Good, she thought. Now if she could just get closer…but first, she’d sweeten him up.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She gave up the posing and purring and motioned him toward the kitchen.

  “You’re going the wrong direction.”

  “What direction should I go?” she said, honestly confused.

  “Pants.” He pointed down the hall.

  “Are you kidding me?” He’s ruining everything.

  “Pants. One way or another.” His biceps flexed.

  “No.” She stood her ground, crossing her arms.

  His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Fine, then.” He came at her like a linebacker. Before she could do more than squeal his name, he had her bent over his shoulder and was moving down the hall.

  “So much for not wanting to see my underpants!” she challenged. “Be careful not to catch your five o’clock shadow on my panties.”

  He growled in response, a sound that echoed through the house and didn’t end until he dumped her on her bed with a whoosh. As she flopped on her back, her belly tumbled like an ocean wave crashing on the shore. TJ breathed hard over her while she memorized every hot detail. The way his eyes glowed. The way his muscles bunched in his shoulders. The way he bit out those three little words: “Put. Pants. On.”

  He straightened and snatched her jeans from the floor.

  “No.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” he snapped.

  “Have you?”

  “Maybe!” He proceeded to work her feet down the legs of her jeans. He wasn’t any good at it. Yanking and twisting the material, provoking her into a battle for balance. She pushed at his hands, shock motivating her struggle. He fought back, fueled by the desperation to preserve her modesty. His strong arms circled her, tucking her back tight against his taut body, while he jimmied the denim upwards. Tugging. Her feet were lifting, bouncing off the floor, her weight flailing off balance. Giving up, she panted for air, belly to her bed. He landed face-down on top of her, hands pinned between her mattress and zipper. His full weight crushed into her. It was delightful.

  “Can you get the zipper, or do I have to do that too?” he complained.

  She thought about it, enjoying the sensation of his steamy breath against her sensitive neck.

  He peeled himself off her.

  Turning her head, she watched him dig in her dresser. He stood there for what seemed like forever.

  “What just happened?” she asked, stu
nned at how the event unfolded. For a moment during the dressing, she thought he’d had a change of heart. There was a millisecond after she licked his neck when the struggle took on fresh excitement. She wondered if he knew the lick was intentional or assumed it was just one of those weird accidents.

  “And a shirt,” he said, tossing a classic Mickey Mouse t-shirt at her, a souvenir from her youth. “Don’t make me.” He pointed at the top and left her with the childish tee.

  “But TJ—”

  “Put it on.” He strode down the hall, his long stride thumping towards the kitchen.

  “All right, but I tried to warn you,” she muttered, stretching Mickey’s ears over her chest, fitting a child’s size top to a woman’s body. She hesitated in front of the mirror. Her hair looked wild, falling free from its knot like she’d just had a good roll. The shirt made her blush. Serves him right, she thought as she walked toward the kitchen. But she didn’t feel good about making her best friend miserable.

  Stopping inside the doorway, Megan waited for TJ’s mouth to close. If he was flustered before…She bit her lip, knowing the embarrassingly tight, boob-smushing shirt molded like cling wrap to her curves. It was a shameless victory that she looked more wanton now, following his wishes, than she had in the defiantly sexy robe.

  He looked away, the cords in his neck straining.

  “I won’t say anything more about it if you don’t,” she said in a soft voice, trying not to rub it in. A sweatshirt hung on a hook by the back door, and she covered up.

  Keeping his face turned away, he held his knuckles out for a chummy fist bump.

  She snorted, an unladylike sound, and bumped him back. “I’m sorry,” she added.

  “Then why are you smiling?”

  She touched her face, surprised. “I can’t help it. The great disaster visit was fun.”

  “Fun?”

  “Ridiculous, I know,” she said, and shrugged, hoping to lighten the mood. “I must say, Mr. Johnson, your strength and determination to keep me properly clothed are impressive.”