Naughty Christmas Nights

by Tawny Weber

  Maybe this was a stupid idea.

  Maybe she should have called instead of seeing him face-to-face. It was much easier to control her urge to lick him over the phone than it was when he was within touching distance.

  “So,” he asked once they were both settled into the welcoming cushions, their mugs in hand and the fireplace crackling warmly behind them, “are you going to make me an offer I can’t refuse?”

  “I beg your pardon?” She glanced around the room, an ode to comfortable wealth, then shrugged. What could she offer that he couldn’t walk away from?

  He leaned closer, the rich scent of roasted coffee and his own cologne wrapping around her like a gentle net, pulling her tight. Making her want to close her eyes and simply breathe him in.

  But she couldn’t close her eyes, because his were holding her captive. The dark depths promised sensual delights. A promise, she knew from experience, he could meet.

  Quite nicely, too.

  Hailey’s pulse sped up. Her body turned liquid.

  Her brain filled with visions of the two of them, their naked bodies sliding together on this couch. On that wall. On any variety of whatever flat surfaces he had in the house.

  Would she do him again?

  Even though her ego screamed no, for crying out loud the guy didn’t even say goodbye in the morning, her body was doing the yes, please happy dance.

  Her body was much louder, and more enthusiastic than her ego. Her body wanted to touch the hard planes of his chest again. To feel him moving inside her, pounding, throbbing. Sending her spiraling higher and higher.

  A little short of breath, Hailey had to pull her gaze away from the hypnotic depths of his.

  As soon as she did, logic shouldered its way in, breaking up the fight between ego and desire.

  “I don’t think I have anything to offer that you’d find irresistible,” she stated.

  “Wanna bet?” he countered, reaching out to trace his fingers along the curve of her jaw, then down the long line of her throat. The move, so soft and gentle, made her shiver.

  He wouldn’t be able to refuse sex, between the two of them, in exchange for stepping off the Rudolph account?

  “Yeah. Right.” She laughed so hard she had to set the mug down for fear of spilling her chocolate. “You’d give up a seven-figure contract for a weekend with my body?”

  His eyes were hot on said body, making it difficult for her not to wiggle in place to try to relieve some of the building heat.

  “I asked if that’s what you were offering.”

  Nice double speak. For a second, just one, she wanted to say sure. To stand up, strip naked and gesture that he come and get it.

  But ego, the part that was afraid he’d laugh if she did, won out. So instead, pretending she wasn’t hurt by that image—or by his leaving her—Hailey gave him a sardonic look, then made a show of tapping her fingernail against her lower lip.

  “Let’s see. Was it only last night that you had full access to my body? Yes, yes, I think it was. And you quite comfortably walked away from it this morning, without so much as a ‘see ya, babe.’” She looked him up and down then met his eyes again and arched her brow. “Did something change between now and then?”

  Gage set his coffee next to her chocolate before sliding a little closer, so his hard, warm thigh pressed against hers. He ranged his arm along the back of the couch, so close she could almost feel his pulse, but not quite touching her. As if he was crowding all around her, making sure she was very, very aware of his body. But not doing anything about that awareness.

  Figured.

  Hailey was so sick and tired of people making promises, getting her hooked and emotionally invested, then running out on her. Was there a flashing neon sign over her head, proclaiming her a disappointment junkie?

  So instead of giving in to the desire, and the heat Gage was trying to tease her with, she leaned in closer herself.

  His eyes flickered, desire flaring before he banked it.

  She watched his pulse jump and smiled.

  Then, for good measure, she shifted again so her breath wafted over his skin, close enough to leave a haze of chocolate.

  “You want to make me an offer, Gage, you go right ahead. But make sure it’s one you can keep. I’m tired of being teased.”

  * * *

  IT WAS ON the tip of his tongue to offer her anything.

  Everything.

  In exchange for just one more taste. One more touch. One more wild ride between her thighs.

  As if magnetically pulled forward, Gage found himself bending down, his mouth ready to take hers.

  And to accept any deal she wanted.

  A quick flash of triumph in those green eyes served as a kick-in-the-ass wake-up.

  He froze.

  What the hell was he doing?

  Would he give up his bid for the contract for a weekend with her body?

  If the stakes had been only the contract, the answer wouldn’t just be yes, it’d be hell, yes.

  But this was his freedom, a shot at breaking away from Milano, and doing so in a way that didn’t destroy his questionable family relationships.

  Maybe the better question was, would she give it up for his?

  “Why is this so important to you? It’s just an account. Albeit a fat one, but it’s not like you can’t scoop up another dozen fat accounts. You’ve got a stellar product, a smart sales pitch, and the kudos from being considered for this are enough to parlay into a dozen open doors.” Yes, he’d tried this argument once before. But he wanted an answer this time. He’d gone up against some fierce competition in the past, but never one with so much heart, so much determination to win.

  Hailey’s gaze held his, her eyes more serious than he’d ever seen them. It was as though someone had squeezed all of the bubble out of her personality, leaving her flat. Still sweet, still beautiful, but without the effervescence that was so natural to her.

  “I need this contract,” she said with a quiet shrug. The kind that said let it go, just move on.

  But Gage didn’t want to.

  He wanted to know her. To know what was pushing her so hard. He wanted to know what she had to lose when he won.

  “So do I,” he countered. Giving in to temptation, he brushed his fingers over the tips of her hair, watching the pale blond strands slide like a silken waterfall back to her shoulder. “What else ya got?”

  Her lips twitched, and after a long, considering look, she pulled away and leaned over to get her mug of chocolate again. She didn’t sip, just stared into it as if searching for the right words.

  “If I don’t get this, I’ll lose my business.”

  “How?” Gage frowned. “I did a check on you when I heard we were competitors. You’re solid.”

  “On paper, with the bank, sure.” Her shrug was jerkier this time, irritated. “I bought Merry Widow from my mentor three years ago. We had what you’d call a friendly agreement. We both knew the business was worth a lot more if I built it up, kept it going. So we agreed that I’d pay him a set amount each year, and at the end of five years, if I’d doubled the net worth, my debt was paid. Otherwise we’d negotiate fair-market value.”

  Gage’s frown didn’t ease, even as he shook his head.

  “I don’t get it. I mean, it’s a crazy agreement, definitely not like anything I’ve ever heard before. But it hasn’t been five years. You’re close to doubling your net worth from four years ago so you should be fine.” He ignored her look of surprised irritation that he knew so much about her. “So what’s the problem?”

  “I know it’s unorthodox, but it was Eric’s way of pushing me. Of motivating me to do my best.” She smiled, as if just that memory gave her joy. Then her lips drooped. “Then he died early this fall.”

  “I�
��m sorry,” Gage murmured.

  She nodded, taking a sip of her chocolate. More as a way to get hold of herself, he figured, than any desire for cooling milk laced with cocoa.

  “His kids are calling the loan. Full market value, without credit for previous payments.”

  “They can’t do that.”

  “Sure they can. Eric and I didn’t have a contract. We had a verbal agreement because he didn’t want to deal with the drama his kids would put up if they found out what a deal he was offering me.”

  Pissed now, Gage shook his head. She had to have a good lawyer. Someone who could put an end to the bullshit claim.

  “That’s crap. I’ll get my attorney to look into it,” he offered.

  For the first time since he’d pushed her on the topic, Hailey’s lips curved into a real smile and her eyes danced.

  “You are so sweet. But no, it’s been looked at. They’re within their rights.”

  “That’s crap,” he repeated.

  “Sure it is. But if I get the Rudolph contract, it’ll show a solid enough income that the bank will loan me what I need to pay off the Phillips kids.” She sipped the chocolate again, wrinkled her nose and returned the mug to the table. “So there you go. My reason for needing the contract.”

  It was pure crap. Gage didn’t bother to say it a third time, though. Instead, he silently fumed. Not because her needs put him in a difficult position, although they did.

  But because she’d been screwed over, royally. Because some lame ass was too worried about upsetting his kids, Hailey was in danger of either losing her business or going deep into debt. A debt that, if he’d written up the agreement as promised, she’d never have had to take on.

  Damn.

  Suddenly, all he wanted was to make her smile. To show her how important, how special, she was.

  He didn’t have words, though. And even if he did, he’d feel like a complete idiot spouting off that kind of thing.

  So he offered what he had.

  A soft, sweet kiss.

  A promise.

  To worship her.

  To take care of her.

  To make sure her needs, her satisfaction, were primary.

  Hailey’s eyes were huge as bright green saucers as she pulled her mouth away from his.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Because you deserve to feel good about yourself.”

  She gave a little laugh, as though she thought he was kidding.

  Then, seeing that he was 100 percent serious, her smile faded. Desire, hope and something deeper washed over her face.

  “You think so?” she asked, hesitating before running her fingers, just the tips of them, along his jaw.

  Gage leaned into her hand, loving the feel of her.

  “Spend the weekend with me.”

  Her gasp was sharp. Her pulse jumped in her throat. And those glorious eyes of hers filled with questions. He didn’t know the answer to most of them, though. So he lifted her hand in his and brushed a kiss along her knuckles.

  “Spend the weekend with me. Let me show you how special I think you are.”

  She pressed her lips together, then sighed and gave him a tentative smile.

  “And how were you planning to do that?”

  “Like this,” he promised, grabbing the invitation and opportunity fast, before she changed her mind.

  Just like he took her mouth.

  Fast.

  Hard.

  Intense.

  With every bit of passion and need and desire he had for her.

  Her body melted into his as he pulled her onto his lap. Her lips gave way to his tongue, welcoming him into her warmth.

  And suddenly, the only thing Gage wasn’t sure of was if a weekend was enough time to show her how amazing she was.

  12

  “THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I can’t believe I let you talk me into it.” Gage huffed, giving the woman responsible a hard look. Difficult, since she was so adorable wrapped only in one of his dress shirts and a layer of body lotion.

  Lotion he’d slicked on himself after their shower that morning.

  The memory of that soft, smooth skin under his hands, of the slide of the thick lubricant beneath his fingers, stirred an interest in Gage’s body. One that had nothing to do with the crazy ideas Hailey was trying to get him hooked into.

  “C’mon. It’ll be fun. I can’t believe you’ve never done this before.”

  “It’s not like we’re talking exotic sexual positions or kinky toys, Hailey.” He hunched his shoulders, really wishing they were. In those, he had experience in spades.

  “No. As fun, exciting and important as those all are—” she paused to give him an eye roll and a teasing smile “—this is all of that, too.”

  Gage sighed.

  Then, showing every bit of the reluctance he felt, he approached the corner of the room with trepidation and, giving her a grumpy look, took the thread she’d filled with popcorn and tried to figure out what to do with it.

  “I’m supposed to, what? Throw this over the branches?”

  Hailey gave him a look that said she couldn’t quite believe his professed cluelessness.

  “Here, do it like this,” she said, showing him how to drape the popcorn-covered string.

  He really should be worried, because he was starting to think she could talk him into anything.

  He’d figured the fact that he had no tree was a good enough excuse when she’d asked why he hadn’t decorated. But no. She’d hauled on a pair of his sweatpants, pulled on her boots and swaddled herself in one of his sweaters before hauling him down to the corner lot to choose a tree.

  He’d been so entertained by the seriousness with which she studied each specimen, rounding every tree and staring at it as if coded somewhere inside was the key to Santa’s nice list. Finally, when he’d tried to grope her behind the wreath display, she’d settled on a tall, skinny one, claiming it’d be easiest for them to carry back.

  Carry. He’d trotted down the San Francisco streets with a woman wearing his sweats and five-hundred-dollar boots, carting a pine tree.

  What else could he do once they got it inside but strip her naked and make love to her?

  Now, three hours and a handful of orgasms later, she was standing there, arms akimbo, giving him the hurry-up look.

  “Isn’t it enough to have the tree? Why does it need crap hung from it?”

  “Because it’s Christmas. Hanging crap from a tree is part of the holiday fun.” She finished wrapping the string of lights they’d bought along with the tree, then bent low to plug it in.

  Gage tilted his head sideways, grinning. He had to admit, the decorating view was definitely fun.

  “Haven’t you ever had a tree before? Ever?” she asked, pausing from her study of the perfect placement of lights to give him a puzzled look. “Does your family not celebrate Christmas?”

  “Sure, we celebrate. But the tree always just sort of showed up in the lounge—lights, balls and presents.”

  Depending on which stepmother was ruling the roost at the time, it might be glinting with crystals or wrapped in yarn. One year, it’d had tiny porcelain dolls hanging from the boughs. That’d seriously freaked him out.

  “I guess that’s part of your fancy upbringing, huh?” she teased.

  “I never thought it was fancy,” he said honestly, trying to hang the popcorn strands the way she had, so they draped instead of tangled to look like something a bird puked up. “I mean, the house was huge and there might be a lot of social stuff going on, depending on the stepmom du jour. My brother and I were in boarding school most of the year, so when we’d come home for winter break, the tree was there. Done. If we ever decorated when I was little, I don’t remember it.”

&
nbsp; Hailey paused in her adjusting and tweaking of the lights to glance at him, those big eyes of hers filled with tears.

  “You were sent away.”

  “More like allowed to run away,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I loved boarding school. Anything was better than the revolving circus that was that house’s inhabitants.”

  She straightened, moving closer and giving him a look so deep with compassion that Gage actually felt his heart melt a little.

  “Were you hurt there?”

  His freak-out over the deep emotions she was inspiring gave way to shock. “What? Hurt? Nah. It was just crazy. My old man was a womanizer. Think Rudy, with less money and more to prove. We used to joke that he should lease wives instead of marrying them, since he traded them in as often as his cars.”

  “And that didn’t bother you?”

  “Why? None of them stuck around long enough to matter, so it wasn’t like I missed them when they were gone.”

  It was only after a few seconds of silence, and his irritation with the strings of popcorn tangling together, that Gage glanced over.

  Mouth open, eyes wide with sympathy, Hailey was staring at him as though she wanted to wrap him in her arms, pull his head to her shoulder and hug away all his hurts.

  He figured he didn’t have any, but he’d be willing to let her try, anyway.

  “Don’t make it into a big deal. It really isn’t,” he said honestly.

  “What about your mom? Were you really young when she left?”

  “Four and a half,” he said with a shrug. “She came around a few times, I think, before she was killed in a car accident. But it’s not like I grew up thinking there was a big hole in my life. It’s just what it was, you know? One way or another, it was my dad, my brother and me. And a predecorated Christmas tree.”

  She didn’t laugh.

  “I’m done with the threaded popcorn,” he said, tossing on the last bit in hopes of changing the subject. “Are we done or do you want more crap on the tree?”

  “More crap,” she said absently, handing him a stack of intricate snowflake shapes—cut from paper stolen from his office—that she’d cut out and hung on the same string she’d used for the popcorn.