All He Wants For Christmas

by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan

  Annoyed by the knowledge that she desperately wanted to forget the pain this man had caused her and wrap her arms around his neck so she could tug his head down for a kiss, Meg instead arched back to glare into his impossibly beautiful face.

  “She can’t possibly believe that you’re what is best for me,” she said.

  He lowered his head, brushing his lips along the clenched line of her jaw. “Why not?”

  Yeah…why not?

  It was difficult to remember as the bewitching pleasure flowed through her. Oh…hell. His lips found the erotic spot behind her ear, his tongue stroking a wet caress against her sensitive skin.

  “You lied to me,” she managed to rasp. “For almost six weeks you pretended that you cared about me.”

  His hands gripped her hips, holding her against his thickening arousal. A blast of pure lust shuddered through her.

  “That was no pretense.” He gave the lobe of her ear a punishing nip before soothing it between his lips. “I did care.”

  “No. If you’d truly given a damn about me you would have told me the truth before—”

  She bit off the words. The one thing she’d taken satisfaction in was the fact that she’d never actually told him she loved him. That would have been the final humiliation.

  Dylan lifted his head, his eyes dark with regret. “Listen, angel.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

  He flinched, but he refused to be silenced. “I’ll be the first to admit that I should have walked away the second I realized how deeply my feelings were involved,” he said in low tones.

  Her lips parted to inform him that it was far too late for excuses. After all, she’d moved on with her life. Hadn’t she?

  But the words wouldn’t form. Now that he was here, holding her in his arms as if he had every right to touch her, she had to ask the questions that had been nagging at her for six long months.

  “Why didn’t you?” she demanded.

  His hand skimmed up her back, tugging off the scrunchie to release her springy curls. A bittersweet sense of déjà vu flared through her. It was such a familiar gesture. The minute Dylan would arrive at her condo he would drag her into his arms and pluck out the pins she used to keep her hair properly tamed. Then he would bury his face in the unmanageable mass of curls and suck in a deep breath, as if the scent of her somehow eased the stress of his day.

  “I told myself that it all happened so quickly I was in too deep before I realized the danger,” he said, an edge in his voice that might have been pain.

  “But?” she prompted.

  He tangled his fingers in her hair, his expression somber. “But the truth is that I was willing to do whatever I had to do to keep you in my life,” he confessed, his raw tones striking deep inside Meg. “Even if it meant lying to you. I was terrified at the thought of losing you.”

  Her mouth went dry. This was dangerous. So, so dangerous.

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. “You had to know I would find out the truth eventually.”

  He held her accusing gaze. “I hoped you would have come to trust me enough to accept that I didn’t intend to hurt you.”

  Meg was instantly on the defensive. She wasn’t the one in the wrong.

  “You were just doing your job, right?” she said, throwing his words back in his face.

  His fingers tightened in her hair. “It was important, Meg.”

  She grimaced. She’d walked right into that one.

  “I know that,” she quietly admitted.

  And she did. In some part of her brain she understood that what Dylan did was an essential part of protecting citizens. Far more essential than anything she would ever do in her life.

  But that hadn’t made his betrayal any easier to bear.

  “Tantaros had murdered four women,” he reminded her, his tone bleak. “If we didn’t stop him, God only knows how many more women he would have tortured and killed.”

  She lowered her gaze. Dammit. With every word he was hammering against her fierce sense of bitterness.

  Her heart gave a panicked leap.

  “I heard he confessed,” she muttered.

  “He did, but it still took months to confirm the details of his statement,” Dylan said. “I was part of the task force until the Bureau turned the evidence over to the prosecuting attorney.”

  Meg shivered. She hadn’t even known her roommate had a brother until he showed up at the condo.

  “I’m glad he’s behind bars, although I feel terrible for Monica.” Meg gave a sad shake of her head. “I think she truly believed her brother was innocent.”

  “None of us want to accept that someone we love could be a monster.”

  She slowly lifted her lashes to meet his brooding gaze. “Or pretending to be something they’re not.”

  He heaved a small sigh. “Meg.”

  Realizing just how swiftly he was undermining the resentment she’d nurtured for six months, she took a sharp step backward.

  “I need to go to the shop,” she abruptly announced.

  Dylan dropped his hands, a hint of disappointment flaring through his eyes before he was smoothing his features into an unreadable expression.

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “I’d like to see something of the town. I’ll drop you off and do some sightseeing. When you’re done I’ll drive you back and I’ll make you dinner.”

  She frowned. “This is Holly, not Vegas, Dylan. Most businesses will be closed this time of night.”

  Turning, he headed toward the back door. “You worry about finishing up whatever work you have to do and I’ll keep myself entertained.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Deal?”

  It was a bad idea. A really bad, horrible idea.

  Every moment she spent in this man’s company made her a little more vulnerable to his charm. Worse, it was making her forget how he hurt her, and remember that the six weeks they’d been together had been the happiest of her life.

  But she couldn’t deny that the thought of having someone else drive through the snow and then cook dinner was a temptation she couldn’t resist.

  She was tired, hungry, and not at all comfortable going out in the dark alone since the strange incidents had started.

  “Fine.” Not waiting for his response, she turned to grab the coat she’d draped over the back of the chair next to the table. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Dylan pulled to a halt in front of the shop, waiting until Meg had scurried inside and switched on the lights before he pulled away. Then, barely noticing the cheery Christmas lights that twinkled in the darkness, he drove two blocks down to leave his truck in an empty parking lot next to the school.

  He waited to make sure there was no one around before he slipped through the back alley, positioning himself on the corner so he could hide in the shadows while keeping a close watch on Meg’s shop.

  From his position he could easily watch her as she mopped and vacuumed, then collected a cloth and started dusting the shelves. He might have enjoyed the show if he hadn’t been grimly aware that she was just as visible to anyone else lurking in the dark.

  Pressed against the wall to avoid the worst of the icy breeze, he allowed his gaze to search the quiet street, looking for a stalker who might have followed them from Meg’s house. He hoped whoever was harassing her would choose tonight to make an appearance. That was the only reason he’d agreed to allow her to be alone in the shop.

  He wanted the mystery stalker found.

  Now.

  Unfortunately, at the late hour not a creature was stirring on Main Street. And a glance through the window revealed that Meg was putting away her cleaning supplies.

  He would have to wait until tomorrow to continue his attempts to discover the bastard bothering her.

  Retracing his steps, he climbed into his pickup and blasted on the heat before he was driving back to the shop. This time he left the truck running next to the curb as he
circled toward the back of the brick building and easily picked the flimsy lock on the door that looked like it had been standing there since the last century.

  Entering a large room that appeared to double as a storage area and office, he was contemplating the electrical upgrades that were going to be needed for the new alarm system he intended to install when he heard the sound of a shocked gasp.

  “Jeez, Dylan, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Meg breathed, sending him a frustrated glare. “How did you get in?”

  He folded his arms over his chest, meeting her glare for glare. “The lock on the back door is a joke. It took me less than five seconds to get in.”

  She turned away, allowing her hair to screen her face as she put away her cleaning supplies and pulled on her jacket.

  “Security has never been an issue here.”

  His jaw clenched. The fact that she didn’t want to tell him that she was being harassed only emphasized how much he’d damaged their relationship.

  Dammit.

  “Security is always an issue when a young, beautiful woman is alone.” He forced himself to speak in calm tones. “Tomorrow I’m installing a new alarm system.”

  “I can’t afford—”

  “It’s non-negotiable, Meg,” he interrupted. On this occasion he didn’t care if he pissed her off.

  Her safety was something he wasn’t willing to debate.

  She snatched her purse off the desk, heading toward the back door that he’d left open. “You don’t get to make that decision,” she informed him as she stomped past him. “This is my shop.”

  He swiftly followed behind her, waiting for her to close and lock the door before he was grabbing her arm to lead her to where he’d left his truck running. At the same time he bit back his urge to inform her that she was going to have a new security system, whether she liked it or not. He knew from experience that a head-on confrontation with this woman only made her dig in her heels.

  Thankfully, she would usually listen to reason. Even if it came from him.

  Waiting until they were both in the truck and he was slowly driving down the slick road, he played his ace card.

  “I assume Ester is your cleaning lady?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Her tone was cautious. “I hire her for a few hours a week. Why?”

  “Do you want to put her at risk, being alone in your shop at night?”

  There was a short pause as she realized she’d been neatly boxed in a corner. “Of course not.”

  “Then let me put in a decent lock and set up an alarm system.” He pressed his advantage, turning onto the street that led to Meg’s house. “It’s only fair to your employees as well as your customers.”

  She heaved a resigned sigh. “Have you always been this bossy?”

  He gave a soft chuckle. “My sister would tell you I was born bossy.”

  “I suppose that’s why you became an FBI agent?”

  Dylan’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. It was the first time Meg had referred to his job at the agency without a bitter edge in her voice. Could he dare to hope that she might be softening toward him?

  “It’s what I always wanted to do,” he admitted, before he gave a small laugh. “Actually, what I wanted to do was become James Bond and chase bad guys through Paris. But once I realized that wasn’t possible, I decided to join the Bureau.”

  “So why did you quit?”

  “I was raised as an army brat, constantly moving from base to base,” he said, his gaze focused on the snow-coated road. Even at his slow speed it would be easy to hit an icy patch and slide into a car parked along the edge of the cobblestone street. “Don’t get me wrong—I was happy. But I want a more settled home for my children.”

  She made a sound of surprise. “Children?”

  “Yep. I want a wife and children,” he admitted, pulling into the driveway. Putting the engine in park, he left the motor running as he nodded toward the large Victorian home. Although it was set away from the road, it glowed with the Christmas lights that Meg had strung along the porch, and even the evergreens that framed the garage. “And a house with a picket fence,” he finished with a sense of satisfaction.

  She snorted in disbelief. “You’re an adrenaline junkie. You’d never be satisfied playing the role of suburbia dad.”

  Dylan unhooked his seatbelt, turning in his seat as he watched Meg release her own belt. Then, before she could open the door, he reached out to grasp her face in his hands.

  “There’s only one rush of excitement I’m addicted to now,” he assured her, leaning forward to brush a light kiss over her mouth.

  Instant heat combusted between them, sending sparks of need through him that bordered on the edge of pain.

  Dylan had enjoyed lovers before he’d met Meg. Some he’d shared a relationship with for months.

  And while he would always cherish the memories, not one of the women had managed to blow him out of the water like one smiling glance from Meg Anderson did.

  Suddenly he understood every sappy love song. And why his father still had a goofy smile on his face when he managed to surprise Dylan’s mother with a romantic gesture. And why his older sister had been willing to walk away from a thriving career to follow her husband to his naval base in San Diego.

  Stroking his tongue along the seam of Meg’s lips, he parted them so he could deepen the kiss, demanding her response.

  For a second she stiffened, almost as if she was going to pull away. Then, with a soft sigh, she was opening her mouth to return his kiss with an intensity that had him aching with a fierce need.

  Yes. This was what he’d missed.

  Meg kissed like she lived. All out, unconditional joy.

  His fingers threaded through her glorious hair, relishing the sensual anticipation that made his heart thunder and his cock so hard it pressed painfully against his zipper. Over the past months he’d dedicated his days to finishing up his work so he could be free to concentrate on winning Meg’s heart. But the nights had been reserved for fantasies of holding this woman in his arms.

  Now he struggled to leash the urge to rip off her clothes so he could get her straddled across his lap.

  The first time he made love to Meg wasn’t going to be a fumbled quickie in a truck.

  Right?

  Trying to convince his body, which was already on fire, Dylan stroked his lips over her soft cheeks before nibbling a path down the curve of her neck.

  “Dylan,” she murmured, her hands grasping his arms.

  “Christ, I’ve missed you, angel,” he breathed, pressing his face into her curls. A part of him urged to get her inside and stretched across the nearest bed. He’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Meg. But he was experienced enough to know that the minute she stepped out of the pickup the mood would be shattered. For now it was enough just to be allowed to touch her. “The scent of your shampoo, the taste of your lips…” He chuckled as she gave a low groan. “Those sweet sounds of pleasure.”

  Her fingers dug into his leather coat, her head tipped back to offer him greater access to her throat.

  “It was a lie,” she muttered.

  “A lie?” He licked the salt from her skin, pressing his tongue to the pulse that thundered at the base of her neck. “You would never say that if you knew how many nights I’ve tossed and turned, aching to hold you in my arms. I must have taken a thousand cold showers over the past months.”

  “You never seemed to have a problem resisting me.”

  Slowly Dylan lifted his head, studying the hectic flush that stained her cheeks. “I do have a few rusty morals,” he said. “I couldn’t take you to my bed when I was still working undercover.” He held her gaze, needing her to know the cost of resisting his need to possess her. “I want my name—my real name—on your lips when you come.”

  Her gaze moved over his face, as if searching for the truth. This was clearly important to her.

  “Was there another woman?”

  Dylan went rigid, cert
ain he hadn’t heard her right. “What?”

  She licked her lips that were still swollen from his kisses. “Were you in a relationship with another woman when we were together?”

  “Dammit, Meg,” he snarled, deeply offended by the question. He might have given her cause to distrust him, but she had to know that he would never, ever cheat on her. “Of course not.”

  She hunched her shoulders, her expression a combination of guilt and defiance. “It’s a legitimate question. I was just part of a job, after all.”

  He bit back his furious words. Obviously she needed his reassurance, not a lecture on how he had no interest in another woman.

  His thumb stroked the length of her tense jaw. “Five minutes after meeting you, I knew you were more than just a job.”

  Dylan felt her tremble beneath his touch, her pulse still racing. “How?” she demanded.

  His lips twitched, the memory of their first encounter etched deeply into his soul.

  “When I dropped those files I hoped it would give me an opening to talk to you, but I never expected to watch you dance down the street, laughing as you scooped up the papers,” he murmured, his smile widening. “You were so genuinely happy. You almost sparkled with an innocent love for life. For a jaded cynic who has witnessed the very worst in human nature, you were like a punch to my gut.” His gaze lowered to the soft invitation of her lips. “I’m a moth to your flame. You’re never going to get rid of me now.”

  “Dylan—”

  She snapped off her words in shock as Dylan was abruptly pulling back, his gaze locked on the distant shadow he’d caught out of the corner of his eye.

  “Shit,” he rasped, grabbing the handle of his door and shoving it open.

  “What’s wrong?” Meg demanded, her brow furrowed with confusion.

  “I just saw an intruder running from the house.”

  Her eyes widened with fear. “Oh my God.”

  “Don’t move,” he commanded, hitting the button to lock the doors as he slid out of the truck. “There’s a gun in the glove compartment if someone tries to get in. Be careful, it’s loaded.”

  Quietly shutting the door, Dylan cautiously made his way to the side of the house where he’d seen the shadow. Once out of sight of Meg, he pulled the gun from the holster that he’d hidden beneath his jacket. His instinct was to dash after the retreating figure. Despite the fact the intruder had already disappeared through the hedges, there was a chance he could still catch him.