Sex, Lies And Mistletoe

by Tawny Weber

  In one quick, delightful thrust, Caleb was inside her. She was tight, hot and wet. Delicious. His hands gripping her hips, he thrust, his hips setting a fast rhythm.

  “More,” she breathed against his throat as she undulated in a tempting dance, pulling him in deeper.

  Deeper and deeper. Harder and faster.

  Her moans became whimpers. Her breath heated his neck as she dug her fingernails into his shoulders, gripping him so tight her heels dug into the small of his back.

  He couldn’t think.

  All he could do was feel the incredible sensations building. Tightening. Need pounded at him. Her mewling pants were driving him higher.

  Then she came. Her gasp was followed by the soft chanting of his name. Over and over and over, she called out to him.

  He couldn’t restrain himself any longer. As her body spasmed and contracted around him, he exploded in delight.

  His mind spinning, aftershocks of the sexual blast still zinging through his body, Caleb let his head fall back against the wall. He unclenched his fingers from the soft cushion of Pandora’s butt to let her slide her legs back to the floor. She puddled against him like a purring kitten, nuzzling her head under his chin and giving a moaning sort of sigh that made him feel like king of the sex gods.

  “Bed?” he groaned against the warm, smoothness of her throat.

  “That door over there,” she murmured, her words more a husky purr than anything. Caleb forced his eyes open, looking around for over there. There were two doors, one cracked open enough that he could see was a bathroom. Handy. The other was closed. There was a bed waiting on the other side of that door.

  The trick was to get to it.

  He had a whole lot of warm, wonderful woman wrapped in his arms.

  His slacks were around his ankles. Pure class, he thought as he rolled his eyes. His boots were still laced tight, so he couldn’t kick his pants off and romantically sweep Pandora into his arms.

  Romantically. Holy crap. A hard-core realist, Caleb knew the effects drugs could have on the body. But asparagus and oysters? That all-natural aphrodisiac thing was pure bullshit.

  At least, he’d thought it was until now, as he stood with his head still reeling, his jeans jammed down around his socks like a pimply faced adolescent getting it for the first time behind the school gym.

  Now? Now he was thinking up ways to be romantic.

  Again…holy crap.

  Pandora gave a sighing little wiggle, her curves pressing tighter against him, the deliciously pebbled hardness of her nipples scraping against his chest and her flowery-scented hair rubbing under his chin.

  A part of him-he swore it was Hunter’s voice-was kicking in to lecture mode. He shouldn’t be doing this. The plan was to use her store’s proximity to keep an eye on his father. Not to use her, in any way, shape or form.

  But was it using? his body argued. He was seriously interested in her. She was gorgeous and sexy and fun. And this didn’t have to get in the way of his investigation, so what did it matter?

  Who gave a damn how he’d got here.

  Caleb vowed in that second, as he brushed a soft kiss against the top of her head, that he was going to enjoy the hell out of this night. Whatever was driving it, he was the one having the fabulous ride.

  Well, he and Pandora.

  And it was time to make sure she got a ride she’d never forget, either.

  “Round two,” he promised. “This time, I’ll show you what I can do with my boots off.”

  8

  “WELL?” KATHY PRODDED in a frantic admonition, leaning across the sales counter so far her butt was almost up in the air. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me last night to tell me about your dinner. I’m your best friend. Your confidante. Your coconspirator of all things naughty. And I have to drag myself out of bed on a cold Saturday morning and brave the crazy shoppers to nag you into filling in the deets?”

  A little freaked at the idea of verbalizing all the images that’d been playing in Technicolor through her head all day, Pandora rolled her eyes. She was trying her best to ignore Kathy’s chipper curiosity. Especially since the store was filled with holiday shoppers, all with varying degrees of gossip expertise.

  Trying to act professional, she struggled to wrap gold foil paper around an octagon-shaped box while the customer tapped her foot impatiently in time with “Jingle Bells” playing through the store’s speakers.

  “Whose idea was it to offer free gift wrapping?” she muttered as the tape stuck to the wrong part of the foil paper, pulling the glittery gold off when she tried to move it. Wrinkling her nose, she glared at the package, then glanced at the eagle-eyed customer who’d now taken to finger tapping to show her displeasure.

  Oops.

  “That’d be the same person whose idea it was to try out her hot and horny holiday meal last night and isn’t sharing how it went,” Kathy said, her voice escalating from whisper to hiss loud enough to garner shopper attention.

  Her face on fire, Pandora gave a hiss of her own.

  “Shh. I’ll share. Later,” she promised as she gave in to the finger-tapping pressure and started the wrapping all over. “Now, help me with this ribbon, okay?”

  “No.” Kathy straightened, keeping her hold-the-ribbon fingers hostage and giving Pandora a stubborn look.

  “Pandora, the gossip grapevine is running amok,” Laurie, a waitress from the nearby diner, said as she approached the counter with a basketful of holiday shopping. “Lacy Garner claimed Caleb Black was in here flirting up a storm the other day. But Jolene Giamenti was telling everyone and their neighbor that Sheriff Kendall was interested in you. Now I’m dying of curiosity-which of those fine-looking gentlemen are you interested in?”

  Pandora’s lips curved as she wondered how to answer that. She’d never had two eligible men interested in her, and definitely never had the town gossiping over which one she’d choose. Her ego, starting to show its fragile face again, glowed a little at the idea.

  “Which one?” repeated the finger-tapping Mrs. Vincent, giving a nod of approval for the wrapping and indicating that Pandora hurry up with a little wiggle of her fingers. “As if there could be a question. A sweet girl like Pandora is going to date our fine sheriff. Why would she have any interest in a hoodlum like Caleb Black? Of course, all three Black kids were wild. But Caleb, being the oldest, seemed to make a point of being the best troublemaker, too. Why would Pandora date someone like that?”

  Why? For fourteen orgasms in one night, maybe? Or the soft sweetness of the kiss he’d brushed over her forehead before he’d left in the wee hours of the morning? Maybe because Caleb had a sense of humor almost as fine as his gorgeous body. Or that he was fun and entertaining and made her feel amazingly sexy and clever.

  Pandora shifted from one foot to the other. The movement brushed her thighs together and instantly shot tingling little reminders of her wild night through her body. She shivered. She didn’t regret for one second the evening that had led to such pleasure. But still, she needed to keep her professional persona intact. It didn’t matter that this was her own sex life and as such, nobody else’s nosy business. Just as it hadn’t mattered that she was innocent in the debacle with Sean. She’d learned the hard way how easy it was for public opinion to destroy a career.

  “Are you going to share, or aren’t you?” Kathy prodded, snatching the package and tying the bow herself with a quick, sassy flick of her fingers. “I have a lot to do today. My mother wants to go shopping for matching Christmas sweaters, then I have to take the dog to the photographer to reshoot the holiday card.”

  “You know if you had cats, those cards would come out a lot better,” Pandora pointed out, taking the package back, bagging it and handing it to Mrs. Vincent with a smile. “Cats are great at lying still.”

  She, Kathy and the two customers all looked toward Bonnie and Paulie, who were curled up together in the window, a picture of furry contentment on the alpaca throw displayed there.

 
“So what’s going on?” Mrs. Vincent prodded, taking her bag but not leaving like a polite customer who minded her own business should. “Are you associating with that riffraff, Caleb Black? I hear he’s been a huge stress to his daddy. Not that Tobias Black is a pillar of all that is good and right in the world, what with dating girls his daughter’s age, those motorcycle types in and out of his shop and the constant traffic of questionable personalities. But he deserves better than a do-nothing son like that boy.”

  “Caleb isn’t a do-nothing, Mrs. Vincent,” Pandora defended, seeing the trap an instant too late.

  “Guess that answers our question, then, doesn’t it,” Mrs. Vincent said with a wicked smile on her benign old-lady face. She and Mrs. Sellers hooked arms and sashayed out of the store, whispering and tossing dire looks back over their shoulders.

  Another customer, one who Pandora didn’t know personally, gave a judgmental sort of tut-tut, then went back to her shopping.

  Panic gripped a tight fist in Pandora’s stomach. What had she done? She should have kept things with Caleb quiet. The mess with Sean had been horrible, but the whispers and snide innuendo from everyone who knew them, everyone she’d worked with, that’d almost been worse.

  “Pandora, I love what you’ve done here,” a pretty blonde interrupted as she carried a large statue of Eros, the god of love to the counter. She patted his naked ceramic butt before pointing to the tower of boxed aphrodisiac pepper cookies, the day’s special. “Can you throw in a box of extraspicy cookies, too? I think they’ll be a perfect gift for my Jazzercise instructor.”

  “She likes cookies?” Kathy asked, apparently not in such a hurry that she didn’t have time to be social. She leaned forward on the counter, trying to peek up Eros’s flowing strip of fabric to see how he was hanging.

  “Sure. But mostly it’s because she’s got this new boyfriend and wants to make sure this relationship has a chance,” the woman said, adding an astrology book, two CDs and a woven celestial shawl to the counter. “I guess she was dating this guy last month who was all about a little chemical enhancement, if you know what I mean. He claimed it’d boost their sex lives and make her look and feel gorgeous.”

  Starting to ring up the fabulous sale, Pandora exchanged a confused look with Kathy. Before she could ask, though, the woman continued. “She wasn’t having anything to do with that fake stuff, though. But now she’s paranoid that her new guy thinks she’s ugly and that she sucks in bed. So I figured some cookie encouragement, along with a spa gift certificate, might help boost her confidence a little.”

  “Cookie courage,” Pandora intoned with a wise nod.

  The three of them joked their way through the rest of the transaction, but as soon as the door bells rang behind the blonde, Pandora frowned at Kathy.

  “What do you think she’s talking about? Chemical enhancements? Like…” She trailed off, then shrugged. “What do you think she meant?”

  Kathy gave her a long, knowing look that clearly said she realized this was a pathetic topic change and she was allowing it for now. But there would be a price to pay. Pandora figured she’d better bring chocolate.

  “Well, chemical usually means drugs,” Kathy pointed out finally. Pandora nodded. “But the looking-good part? Maybe that means hallucinogens or something? Who knows?”

  The two women shared a puzzled look.

  “Pandora, did you want to open the café early today?” Fifi asked as she hurried from the back where she’d been prepping the cash register for lunch.

  “We don’t start serving until eleven,” Pandora said, glancing at the clock shaped like a cat wearing a wizard hat. Most of the food was already prepped and ready in the kitchen, but she still needed to put the finishing touches on the asparagus salad and whip a fresh bowl of cream. “That’s an hour away.”

  “I know, but I’ve had three people ask if we’d consider it. They need to be other places but really want your saffron chicken special.”

  “It’d be cool to bump up our income with an extra hour of lunch,” Pandora mused, glancing at the beaded doorway leading to the café. “But I don’t think we can. The store is too busy, I can’t afford for one of us off the floor that much longer.”

  “Maybe we should hire holiday help?” Fifi said, her voice lifting in excitement. “I mean, even if it’s only for the holidays. Things are so busy now, we could use another set of hands. I have a friend who’d be great. Russ. You’ve met him, right? He could come in during café hours. Maybe just until the new year when things slow down again?”

  Hire help? Pandora bit her lip. What did she know about choosing employees? Fifi had worked at the store off and on for years, so it hadn’t been as if Pandora had hired her so much as rehired her. But someone totally new? With her lousy judgment in people? She shuddered.

  “You remember Russ? Kinda geeky guy who’s been hanging around the store the last few weeks. He’s a nice guy. Sweet and great at math,” Fifi prodded. “Want me to give him a call?”

  Pandora took a deep breath, looking around again. Her stomach was churning and she wanted to go hide in the office, make a list of pros and cons and debate the idea for a few hours.

  But Fifi and Kathy were giving her expectant looks, and she had a store to run.

  “Sure,” she decided. Then realizing that she needed to be a businesswoman, not a wimp, she added, “I’ll talk to him and see if I think he’d fit in well here at Moonspun Dreams.”

  “Oh, I think he will. He’s fascinated by all things mystical and really wants to learn,” Fifi said with an excited clap of her hands. “And he knows a lot of people. So I’m sure he’ll be talking up the store and how great you’re doing here, too.”

  Great, Pandora thought. Someone else talking about her. Just what she needed.

  CALEB STRETCHED OUT on his hotel bed, staring in satisfaction at his stockinged feet. When the hell was the last time he’d taken a nap, let alone lounged around without his boots on?

  Always being properly shod was a necessary component of always being ready to run. And he’d spent the past eight years, hell, his entire life, actually, ready to hit the road at a moment’s notice.

  A job gone wrong. A drugged-out dealer breaking in to kill him. A fight with one of his siblings. One of his dad’s cons turning sour. All required footwear.

  Wasn’t it just a little ironic that the first taste he’d had of the ultimate deliciousness that was Pandora, he’d had his boots on? Or maybe it was some kind of cosmic payback for all his years of running.

  He was still grinning a sappy, dork-ass grin when his cell rang.

  “Black,” he answered.

  “Report?”

  “Happy holidays, Hunter. How’s the shopping coming along? Do you feebies do the secret Santa thing? Or do you buy for the entire task force? If so, don’t forget my favorite color is gray.”

  “Not black?”

  “Too obvious.”

  “Something you never are.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Are we finished?”

  Caleb considered the white cotton of his stocking-clad toes for a few seconds, then nodded.

  “Yep, sure. We’re finished. What’s up?”

  “I’m calling for your status report.”

  “Is this how you handle your minions? Formal report requests? This businesslike tone that says, ‘Dude, I’m in charge!’?”

  “Is this how you talk to your superiors? With total disregard for authority? Your smart-ass mouth running on fast-forward?”

  Caleb wiggled his toes, then nodded. “Yep. Guess that’s why they aren’t crying too hard over me retiring, huh?”

  “I have trouble believing you actually think you can retire,” Hunter said, now sounding more like Caleb’s old roommate and beer buddy than an uptight FBI agent. “You’re an adrenaline junky. You might be sick of the streets, but you’re not going to be able to give up the job. Not totally.”

  Caleb’s toes weren’t looking so appealing anymore. Tension, as fami
liar as his own face, shot through his shoulders as he swung his feet to the floor.

  “I could get used to not having people shoot at me. I’m thinking I’d like a life spent not dealing with strung-out hookers and South American drug lords with their zombie army of addicts.”

  “You’d just let them all go free?”

  “I’m not the only guy out there, Hunter. There’re plenty of DEA agents who can bring them down.”

  “As good as you?”

  “Of course not.”

  Neither of them were kidding, Caleb knew. Hunter, because he didn’t know how. And himself, because, well, he was damn good. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t finished.

  “What’d you call for?” he asked, not willing to keep circling the same useless point he’d already discussed with his boss four times since he’d hit Black Oak for his fake vacation.

  “Just what I said. I’m calling for your report.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re not a micromanager. If I had something to report, I’d have called you myself. And you know that. So what’s the deal?”

  The other man’s hesitation was a physical thing. If he’d been in the room, Caleb knew he’d see the calculation in his old friend’s eyes as he decided the best way to handle the situation. Good ole Hunter, always strategizing.

  “Your father has some odd activity going on. A lot of major part orders, hiring a couple guys with dealing records, parties in the shop after hours.”

  Stonefaced, Caleb analyzed that info as objectively as possible. Then he shrugged. “It’s the holidays-from what I’ve heard, he has a lot of big holiday orders. He probably needs mechanics to meet them, and isn’t that picky about their backgrounds.”

  “He’s dating some hottie in town. She was in your sister’s graduating class.”

  Wincing, Caleb hunched his shoulders. Just when he thought his father couldn’t embarrass him anymore…

  “So my old man is snacking on a Twinkie. So what?”

  “You know sex is one of the prime motivators. Have you checked this woman out?”