Merry Christmas, Baby

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  She nodded. “Yep.”

  Silas leaned a hip against the counter top, content to study her. She had that kind of face, the sort that drew the eye and didn’t want to release it. “How long have you been there?”

  “Almost two years.”

  He inclined his head. “And is there an angry husband or significant other who’s going to want to rearrange my face for finding you naked in my parents’ hot tub?”

  She blushed again, an action he found strangely refreshing. “Er…no.”

  He brightened. Maybe his Christmas was going to be merry after all, Silas thought, more than a little pleased with the change in his circumstances. Granted his parents weren’t in town and this wasn’t the homecoming he’d been expecting, but… He pushed off from the counter. “In that case, how about dinner?”

  Her startled gaze swung to his. “Dinner?”

  “Dinner, supper, the evening meal,” he said, listing the various alternatives. “Whatever you want to call it. The fridge is bare and I’ve spent the last ten hours on a plane eating complimentary peanuts and stale pretzels.” He grinned. “I’m hungry. Have you eaten?”

  “No,” she said. “I find that alcohol is a lot more effective if I drink it on an empty stomach.”

  That settled it, Silas decided. She was without a doubt the most interesting person he’d met in a long, long time.

  Quite possibly ever.

  “So you’ll join me?” he pressed. He gave her a smile—the one that he pulled out when he really wanted to get his way—and waited expectantly for her answer.

  “YES,” DELPHIE SAID after a moment’s hesitation. Why not? He’d practically seen her naked. What was dinner after that? Furthermore, this was Charlie and Helen’s son, a man who’d been serving their country—risking his life—since he’d gotten out of college. How could she say no? What sort of neighbor or patriot would that make her? Delphie wondered, knowing good and damned well that the reason she was saying yes didn’t have anything to do with Silas’s parents or being a good patriot.

  She was a woman and he was unbelievably handsome.

  He was also a potential wedding date, which had occurred to her while she’d been in the bathroom hastily donning her clothes. Yes, she was being opportunistic, and yes, she should be thinking more about her dear neighbors who were going to miss seeing their son at Christmas. But the shallow, vain part of her couldn’t help but think he’d look damned fine on her arm at the wedding. In fact, she wouldn’t appear pathetic at all if he went with her.

  Glass half full, silver lining and all that.

  Silas nodded, seeming pleased with her decision. “Excellent,” he said. “Any suggestions?”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “My mother’s orange rolls, actually,” he confessed with a laughing sigh, “but I don’t think I’m going to find those on the menu anywhere in town.”

  “Ooh, I know of the rolls you speak,” Delphie said, following him through the house. “Your mother brought some over to me when I first moved in.” He locked the door and pulled it shut. “Do you mind if we stop at my place so I can pick up my purse?” she asked.

  “Not at all.”

  “And you’re not opposed to driving? I’ve only had two glasses of wine, but for some reason it feels like I upended the entire bottle.” It was utterly baffling. She hadn’t noticed just how unsteady on her feet she was until she’d nearly done a face-plant against the door frame on her way into the house.

  He chuckled. “That’s because you were in the hot tub. It’ll do it every time.”

  She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Really.”

  Delphie hummed under her breath and pulled a shrug. “Note to self—always drink in the hot tub. More bang for your buck.”

  She snagged her bag from beside the door and then walked next to him back to his car. He was even taller than she’d thought, Delphie noted, feeling particularly short beside him. Which, at five-foot-two, wasn’t out of the ordinary, really. But for whatever reason, he seemed bigger than other men his height. It wasn’t necessarily that there was more of him, but that his very presence seemed to need more room. Interesting.

  Thrilling.

  Ten minutes later they were snacking on hush puppies, sipping iced tea and waiting on their shrimp and grits. She liked the way his mouth moved when he talked, deep and unhurried, his voice a tantalizing drawl.

  “So,” he said, staring at her from across the table, his gaze twinkling with intrigued humor. “Do you often drink on an empty stomach?”

  Ah. She’d known that little comment was going to come back to bite her on the butt. He waited patiently and seemed genuinely interested in her answer. His close-cropped dark hair had a slight wave and hugged his scalp and his eyes were so brown they created the impression of being black. It was quite arresting. High cheekbones created exaggerated hollows and planes on his face and his nose was appropriately proportioned and straight.

  Ultimately, though, it was his mouth that did it for her. A bit full for a man, but masculine all the same, and there was a sensual quality to it that made her feel too itchy in her own skin. It crooked a little higher on one side, an endearing imperfection that somehow made it all the more sexy, all the more charming.

  “Drowning a sorrow?” he pressed. “Recent breakup? On the outs with a friend? Someone outbid you on eBay?”

  She laughed softly and looked away. “Worse,” she said. “My little sister is getting married on Christmas Eve.”

  His keen eyes sparkled with a little too much understanding. “Ah,” he said, lifting his chin. “Feeling left behind then? Like the ugly older sister your father can’t unload even with two goats, a dairy cow and a good hunting dog?”

  Her eyes widened and she laughed. “Not as bad as all that, thanks,” she said. “Just a little melancholy. I’m happy for her,” she told him. She squeezed lemon into her tea, then gave it a swirl with her spoon. “But I have to admit I’m not looking forward to the pitying glances from the various aunts and friends, as though I’m a failure compared with Lena’s romantic success.”

  “So it’s not that you’re envious, you’re just competitive?”

  “A little of both actually,” she admitted, impressed with his intuitive assessment. “But being alone during the holidays is hard enough without throwing a wedding into the mix.” She chuckled and pushed a hand through her hair. “It compounds the pathetic factor.”

  He chuckled and shook his head as though the feminine brain was a mystery. “What is it about women and weddings?” he wondered aloud. “Your sister is signing on as chief launderer, cook, possible incubator and unpaid treasure hunter and you’re going all gooey-eyed about it. Listen, it’s a bad deal,” he said with a deadpan expression, leaning forward as though he were imparting some serious advice. “In a week you’re going to feel sorry for her and be patting yourself on the back for your narrow escape.”

  “Unpaid t-treasure hunter?” Delphie chuckled. Admittedly she got the other references, but this one was lost on her.

  “Oh, you know,” he said. “Honey, where are my keys? Baby, have you seen my vintage Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt?” He shook his head in feigned bafflement. “I’ve seen brilliant men who can spot bombs beneath a layer of sand get married, and suddenly can’t find their asses with both hands anymore. It’s amazing, really.”

  She didn’t know when she’d laughed so much, Delphie thought, wiping her eyes. “Well, when you put it like that.”

  “Trust me,” he said, as though confiding an important secret. “I know what I’m talking about. You should feel sorry for her. The romantic little fool has no idea what she’s in for.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Delphie said, chuckling. Unpaid treasure hunter. She mentally snorted, charmed all the same. “But I still wish I had a date.”

  “I’ll go with you,” he volunteered, much to her immense and relieved surprise. “We’ll fill up on appetizers
and make fun of everyone. It’ll be fun.”

  Delphi stilled. Dare she hope? Could she be this lucky? “You don’t have other plans?”

  Another toe-curling smile. “Er…not anymore, remember?”

  “But what about the rest of your family?” Why was she arguing with him? Isn’t this what she’d wanted? Shut up, Delphie.

  “They’re still in Arkansas,” he said. “My parents retired here, you know.” He winced, looking momentarily bleak. “Unfortunately, there is no other family in town.”

  Her heart drooped for him, and she chastised herself for being selfish. “I’m sorry, Silas. This isn’t at all the Christmas you’d imagined, is it?”

  “No,” he said slowly, releasing a fatalistic sigh. His gaze drifted over her face and settled hotly on her mouth. “But it’s improving every minute.”

  Whoa.

  Her nipples suddenly tingled and heat flooded her belly, then slid south and settled. She pressed her legs together to keep from squirming and mentally calculated the last time she’d had sex. Bleh. Higher math had never been her strength, but she knew from her exaggerated reaction to the man sitting across from her that A plus B in this instance equaled Too Damned Long.

  “You’d seriously go to my sister’s wedding with me?”

  He cocked his head. “Is there going to be alcohol at this wedding?”

  “Yes.”

  “And dancing?”

  “Yes to that as well.”

  “And I’ll get to dance with you?” he clarified, pinning her with that hot, dark gaze. “As much as I want?”

  Pleasure bloomed in her breathless chest. “If you’d like.”

  “Sold,” he told her with a succinct nod, as if it were a no-brainer.

  Relief washed through her, taking away a large portion of the dread. “Thanks, Silas. You’re sparing me more humiliation.”

  “No problem. Besides, I’ve got an ulterior motive.”

  A thrill snaked along her spine. She’d just bet he did. “Oh, really? What’s that?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll reward me with a home-cooked meal,” he said, surprising her. He popped another bite of hush puppy into his mouth. “It’s been too long since I’ve had one.”

  She imagined it had. And any chance of his mother’s Christmas dinner was down the drain now. No doubt he’d been anticipating that as much as seeing his family. For whatever reason, a meal shared always tasted better. Or it did to her, anyway. “Anything particular you’d like?”

  “Fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy and macaroni and cheese,” he said without preamble.

  “Done,” she told him, smiling. “Come over tomorrow evening and I’ll hook you up.”

  Once again that dark gaze drifted across her face and settled on her lips. It was blatantly sexy, ridiculously thrilling and left absolutely no room for misinterpretation.

  He wanted her.

  Ulterior motive, indeed.

  Something passed between them, an unspoken understanding, one that leveled the playing field and made intentions clear. She could have shied away—probably should have considering she’d just met him—and yet…she couldn’t. More tellingly, she didn’t want to.

  Reckless? Potentially stupid? Most definitely. But there it was.

  “I’ll look forward to it,” he said, his voice low and promising.

  And from the way her toes were curling, so would she.

  3

  SILAS HAD NEVER BEEN one to squander an opportunity and, as he walked Delphie back to her door, he had every intention of making the most of this one.

  Though the idea of going to a wedding on a date at all—much less a first one—was about as palatable to him as a colonic cleanse, in this case he instinctively knew that he wouldn’t regret it.

  In the first place, he’d be going with Delphie, the single most intriguing woman he’d ever met. And in the second place, he wasn’t going to have enough time at home for this to get awkward. Thirdly, most significantly, she was interested.

  He’d watched the flash of awareness kindle in her gaze the moment his eyes had connected with hers and he’d be lying if he tried to claim it was anything other than extremely gratifying.

  Admittedly his romantic skills were a bit rusty—all part and parcel of his job—but he still knew enough about women to recognize when one was digging him and, much to his satisfaction, Delphie Moreau was every bit as into him as he was into her.

  This brief relationship had the power to be very mutually satisfying and, just to make sure she knew what he was about and to confirm his own suspicions, he fully intended to let her know right now.

  She paused at her door and turned to face him. Lamplight glowed golden over her jet-black curls and cast the side of her face in shadow. His breath hitched and a peculiar sensation moved through his chest, one that he’d never experienced before.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said. He liked her voice. It was a bit husky, but musical. “I could’ve paid for mine.”

  He stepped closer and watched her lips twitch in a smile of recognition. “I asked you out,” he said simply. “My treat.”

  She looked away to hide a smile, then glanced back up at him. Minx. “So that was a date?”

  “Definitely. Our first.”

  She chuckled softly and gave him an admiring glance from beneath her lashes. “You work quick.”

  He pulled a lazy shrug, not bothering to deny it. What was the point? “I don’t have much time.”

  A little sigh slipped past her lips and a furrow emerged between her sleek brows. “There is that.”

  “Am I reading this wrong?” Better to ask, he decided.

  She considered him for a moment and he watched her gaze flicker to his mouth. “No,” she said, seemingly coming to some sort of decision. She looked up at him again. “You’re fun.”

  “Fun? That’s all?”

  “Fun’s good,” she insisted, laughing. “Everyone needs to have a little fun.”

  He was more than willing to give her a lot of it. And here was a small preview.

  Silas slipped a finger beneath her chin, gratified when he felt her shiver, and tilted her face up for a kiss. The first brush of his lips across hers snatched the breath from his lungs and, though he knew it wasn’t possible, he felt the ground shake beneath his feet. Startled, he drew back to see if she’d had a similar reaction, and she blinked drunkenly up at him, proof that she found him every bit as intoxicating.

  It was all the confirmation he needed.

  He bent his head again, this time laying siege against her mouth, and felt her instantly respond. She framed his face with her hands—a gesture that was as enflaming as it was tender—and slid her thumb beneath his jaw. Her sweet tongue moved against his, a mind-numbing seek and retreat that made him instantly hard and unreasonably hot. A low groan sounded in his throat and he wrapped his arms around her, fitting her small body more closely to his. She was lush and ripe and the plum-soft recesses of her mouth made him think of other soft womanly bits, particularly the generous mounds behind her lacy red bra and the even softer skin between her thighs.

  He’d either been too long without a woman or this one held some sort of special appeal and, for reasons which escaped him, he didn’t want to mine his mind for the answer to that question.

  He just wanted her. More fiercely and more desperately than he’d ever wanted another woman.

  That thought should have sounded an internal alarm loud enough to rattle his teeth and yet it didn’t. He’d have to think more about that later.

  Much later. Preferably when it was too late, when he was fitted firmly between her thighs, feeding on her marvelous breasts.

  And with any luck, she’d be his Christmas present.

  SWEET MERCIFUL HEAVEN, Delphie thought as Silas’s big hands roamed down her back and settled hotly on her rear end. She’d been kissed before and had even considered Mr. Wrong a champion kisser…but he didn’t have anything on Silas Davenport.

  For instance
, Silas was one-hundred percent making love to her mouth and yet she could feel it quite keenly in another area farther south. Every time his expert tongue slid inside, her feminine muscles clenched, and with every movement of if his lips against hers, more heat seeped into her decidedly damp panties. Her goose bumps had goose bumps and if her nipples got any harder they were going to shatter. Every bone in her body felt as if it had melted, which was probably why she was practically sliding all over him, Delphie thought.

  If she’d ever been so turned on by a mere kiss, then she couldn’t recall it. Was it the alcohol? she wondered. Had it really been that much more potent?

  No, she decided as he gave her rump a squeeze that made her cling even more tightly to him.

  It was him.

  He was big and hard and wonderful and when he held her, she felt unbelievably desired and protected, wanted and safe. As a woman who’d always felt more than capable of taking care of herself, it was a bizarre feeling, one that was strangely welcome, incredibly potent.

  Aside from being damned good-looking and funny as hell, Silas Davenport had that other something special, that indefinable quality that gave him an edge over every other guy.

  And she was cooking dinner for him tomorrow night and he was going to the wedding with her. The only thing that could make this day better was an orgasm, and she was dangerously close to getting that, too.

  But not on the first date.

  Breathing heavily, she reluctantly ended the kiss.

  “Wow,” he said, the admiration in his tone making her blush with pleasure. “I’d take you without the hunting dog,” he teased.

  Delphie chuckled. “Thanks,” she said drolly. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to my father.”

  He grinned down at her, his dark eyes twinkling with humor. “What time do you want me?”

  She blinked up at him, momentarily panicked. She actually wanted him right now, but didn’t think she was in the best condition to be making that decision. Was it inevitable? Oh, yes. She’d known that over dinner. But tonight?

  His head dropped back and he laughed. “I mean for dinner,” he told her.