Don't Open Till Christmas Read online

  The woman nodded. “Men won’t notice anything except how beautiful you are. And women will either be too jealous of your looks to suspect anything, or else they’ll recognize the signs and reminisce about some wicked stolen moments of their own somewhere.”

  Noelle laughed softly, liking the other woman’s soft-spoken charm. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

  Casting a quick glance around the room to ensure they were the only ones around, Rachel explained, “My husband and I snuck into an empty courtroom during a luncheon honoring a retiring judge last month.”

  Noelle lowered her voice, too. “Nice to know adventures still continue after the wedding. Have you been married long?”

  The woman shook her head. “Just since May. But knowing my Lucas, we’ll be sneaking into empty courtrooms when he’s the judge retiring.”

  The look of complete adoration on the stranger’s face as she talked about her husband brought another smile to Noelle’s lips. It appeared Sue and Randy weren’t the only married couple who had found a way to keep their marriages rock-solid yet also spicy and exciting.

  Funny, looking back, Noelle realized she’d never even thought she might have that kind of relationship with Jeremy. Whether he’d cheated and dumped her or not, she’d just never pictured the two of them being wildly daring and sexually happy for the rest of their lives. Comfortable, quietly happy, yes. But blissful? Well, she’d never expected it for herself.

  Which, she suddenly acknowledged, had been a damned shame.

  She deserved bliss. Even if it was purely physical—not emotional—bliss. So she was going to grab at it with both hands and see just how many fabulous memories she could make with Mark Santori before the thrill wore off and they went their separate ways.

  Just until Christmas, she reminded herself. She’d have a magical holiday yet. That should be long enough to quench the raging fire between them. Yet not long enough to get Noelle’s heart involved in the equation.

  It had to be. Because if she thought there was a chance she could truly fall madly in love with the man, she wouldn’t have the courage to go through with this affair. Not when she knew, deep down, that if she couldn’t keep a boring twit like Jeremy Taggert satisfied the duration of their engagement, she’d never be able to do it with a to-die-for sex god like Mark Santori.

  A little voice in her head whispered that she already had feelings for Mark—confusing ones, intense ones—but she ruthlessly gagged it.

  Patting her hair one more time, Noelle offered Rachel another nod of thanks. “I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” Rachel said. Then, with a mischievous wag of her brow, she added, “And, of course, the man who put that look on your face. I imagine he’s hovering around outside, waiting to drag you back into some dark corner again.”

  Hmm…frankly, Noelle would rather be dragged back to her apartment. Or to Mark’s. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured, seeing the way her eyes sparkled in the mirror.

  “Want some moral support, honey?” Rachel asked as she turned toward the door.

  “Thanks,” Noelle replied, following the other woman.

  Right before they exited, however, Rachel paused and reached into her handbag. Without a word, she pulled out a pack of mints, offered one to Noelle, then winked. “Just in case you, uh, wanted one.”

  Noelle had the feeling her face was about the color of a pile of bricks when they emerged into the ballroom. But thankfully, Rachel didn’t seem to notice.

  Someone else did, though. “You okay?” a low voice asked.

  Glancing over, she saw Mark standing a few feet away, watching her closely.

  She nodded. “Better than okay.”

  He stepped closer to take her arm.

  “Get me out of here, Mark. Take me home,” she added, her voice low and full of promise.

  His eyes flashed with heated understanding and a sultry smile widened his sexy lips. “It would be my pleasure.”

  But before he could do it, Mark suddenly noticed the woman who’d been standing a few feet away…Rachel, who’d helped Noelle in the bathroom. “Uh…oh…Rach?”

  Noelle glanced back and forth between her lover and the blonde, who was staring at them with outright merriment dancing in her eyes. “You two know each other?”

  Mark nodded, shifting a little as if suddenly uncomfortable in his tux which, to Noelle’s great relief, showed no evidence of dust, furniture polish or knee prints. “More important, do you two know each other?” he asked.

  “We just met,” Rachel said, obviously very comfortable teasing Mark. “I was helping Noelle hide the evidence of her passionate interlude.”

  Oh, Lord. Noelle suddenly wanted to sink into the floor, picturing the worst. Rachel was beautiful and funny and charming, and obviously knew Mark very well. With Noelle’s luck, the blonde was his ex-girlfriend or something. Which suddenly made the friendly little southerner a lot less appealing.

  “Who had a passionate interlude?” a male voice asked.

  “Oh, great, this just keeps getting better and better,” Mark muttered with an audible sigh.

  A tall, lean man, with hair a shade or two lighter than Mark’s and a pair of somewhat familiar green eyes joined them. He slipped his arm around Rachel’s waist, and she leaned into him.

  Noelle would bet this was Lucas. The future amorous judge.

  “Mark’s been holding out on us,” Rachel said. But, true to her word, she didn’t reveal what had happened in the ladies room. “It appears he does know someone at tonight’s party. I think he has a very close friend here.”

  Cornered, Mark nodded. His expression apologetic, he turned to Noelle and said, “This is my brother Lucas and his wife, Rachel.”

  Ahh…now the eyes made sense. They were so much like Mark’s, the only strong similarity as their builds were very different. Lucas was lean and wiry, Mark muscle-bound and broad.

  The other couple greeted her warmly, Lucas also giving his brother a not-too-surreptitous nod of approval. Then a heavy silence descended upon them. Because the next natural thing for Mark to do would be to tell them who Noelle was—and how he knew her. Only, he didn’t do it. Instead, he watched her intently, as if unsure about what she wanted.

  Noelle suddenly understood why. It was the whole stranger thing. He was still playing her game, following her rules, giving her an out if she chose to play down their relationship and walk away from him and his family.

  The realization made her heart melt a little. Because it was just one more reminder that beneath the tough-guy cop exterior was a very thoughtful man, indeed.

  Offering Mark’s handsome brother a smile, she extended her hand. “I’m Noelle Bradenton.” Then, with a silent, sincere look of gratitude at Mark, she added, “And yes, your brother and I are very…close.”

  But not as close as they were going to be over the next couple of weeks. Which sounded pretty damn good to her.

  IF MARK HADN’T RECEIVED A CALL from Harriet late Saturday night about another robbery by a guy in a Santa costume, he probably would have ended up taking Noelle home and not leaving until Sunday. Or Monday. Or next year.

  But while every sexual instinct he possessed had been dying for exactly that—to finish what they’d begun in the housekeeping closet—in the days that followed, he decided it was a good thing he hadn’t.

  Oh, he still wanted her, ached for her, actually. He also, however, realized something had changed. Their relationship had shifted, crossed the invisible line Noelle had drawn in her mind. They’d come to a new understanding during the mayor’s party. Sometime between the wickedly erotic encounter they’d shared in the closet, and when they’d run into Lucas and Rachel, Noelle’s perception of what they could and couldn’t be to one another had altered.

  She wanted more than random, wild sex without strings or repercussions. No, she hadn’t come right out and said it, but she hadn’t needed to. It was understood.

  Finally letting her gua
rd down, Noelle was opening up, giving them both the chance to enjoy what was happening between them, other than sex. For his part, Mark definitely was enjoying everything they did together. He hadn’t felt this good about a woman in…well, forever. She occupied his mind constantly, and his dreams even more, until by the end of each day he felt like he had to hear her voice or explode.

  They’d even taken a step back in the timeline of a typical relationship, returning to the beginning and actually going out for dinner Sunday night. Though the evening had been full of good food and good conversation, in the back of his mind, Mark couldn’t help thinking about the contradiction of going on a first date with a woman who’d already given him the best blow job he’d ever had in his life. He still shifted in his pants at the very thought.

  Yet somehow, even though Noelle had met him Monday for lunch, Tuesday to shop for decorations and goodies for the kids at the shelter, and Wednesday for a drink, he’d managed to keep things pretty platonic between them. Despite the dark hunger in her eyes, which he was certain matched his own, Mark had somehow kept their physical contact strictly above the waist—mainly by meeting her in public places.

  With no closets.

  He knew the restraint was bugging her, and it was about to kill him. But he also knew something else: Noelle was risking a lot by opening up and letting him into her life. So she deserved to know he wanted to be in every part of her life. Not just her bed.

  “You know, we’re really lucky this latest guy let his little brain override the common sense in his big one,” his partner, Harriet, said as they rode in her car to his family restaurant Thursday afternoon. Mark had lent his own car to his sister Lottie for the day, and planned to meet her at Santori’s to get it back.

  “I know,” he replied, still thinking over the most recent robbery. “He was sloppy, telling that cashier his real name was Jerry when his paperwork said it was Herbert.”

  Having seen the cute cashier from a local grocery store—which had been ripped off by someone hired to play Santa at their grand opening Saturday night—Mark had the feeling he knew why the guy had messed up. The clerk was sexy and stacked. Fortunately, she was also observant. Remembering not only the name the perp had used when trying to pick her up, she’d also seen past his costume to note his dirty-blonde hair, hazel eyes and young-looking, boyish face. She’d even agreed to come down to the station and look through books full of mug shots to see if she could nail the guy. They’d had no luck yet. But Mark remained optimistic.

  “I appreciate you driving me down here,” he said as Harriet pulled onto Taylor Avenue.

  “Hey, for your dad’s pizza, I’d drive a lot farther than this.” She stared straight ahead. “Besides, it worked out okay. Once I knew I was driving you here, I made some plans. I’m meeting a friend here for dinner.” She paused. “A special friend who I’ve been, uh…seeing.”

  Mark raised a brow. Though he and Harriet were incredibly close in a lot of ways, this was the first time his partner had initiated a conversation about her private life, and she sounded nervous about it. Not surprising. For someone who loved to dig and pry into other people’s personal business, Harriet was very close-lipped about her own. That was one reason most of their co-workers figured she was a lesbian. Well, that and the fact that Harriet never wore anything but dark, mannish suits—even to social events—and she made no effort to put a dot of makeup on her square face or color her rapidly graying brown hair.

  Mark cleared his throat. “Well, in that case, maybe I’ll stick around to meet your…friend.”

  “Yeah,” she said, still not meeting his eye. “I guess that’d be okay.”

  Frankly, Mark didn’t know and didn’t care what the woman did in the privacy of her bed. She was a great cop, and she’d been a real friend. Especially because she knew him better than just about anybody else at the precinct.

  Harriet, in a strange twist of fate, had been one of the cops investigating his ex-fiancée a few years back. And when Renée had implicated Mark, Harriet had been the one to pull him aside and give him a heads-up that the rat squad was going to be coming after him.

  “So, your close-legged girlfriend gonna show up tonight?” she asked, looking secretly amused.

  He should have expected the question. Harriet had been ruthlessly nagging him all week for details on his latest relationship, somehow knowing he’d lost his head over an incredibly sexy woman. But he had to admit, the close-legged thing caught him by surprise. “What the hell do you mean?”

  Harriet snickered. “You think I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re getting it…and when you’re not?”

  Christ. He so didn’t want to be having this conversation with a woman he sometimes thought of as a mother figure. Especially since his own mother still believed all her unmarried children were virgins.

  “So tell me who has you on a string. Is it that social worker from the shelter that got ripped off?”

  Mark could only gape at her from the other side of the chilly car, which wasn’t much warmer than the air outside. Harriet didn’t seem to notice the temperature and hadn’t even reached for the heater switch. “How did you know?”

  The woman gave him a sympathetic look out of the corner of her eye. “You came back that day looking like somebody had just given you the greatest Christmas present you ever got. And every time the case comes up, you get the same look on your face.”

  Yeah, he supposed he did, and the realization made him grin. He wondered how Noelle would like being compared to a Christmas gift. Given her dislike of the holiday, he figured maybe he’d better call her a birthday present, as she had him last Saturday night. In the closet. When they’d….

  “Here we are.” Harriet parked the car, apparently not noticing the glazed-over look of lust Mark figured had to be on his face. He wiped the look off, not wanting any intrusive questions from anyone in his family. Particularly not his sister, who had the instincts of a bloodhound and the tact of one, too.

  Following Harriet into the restaurant, he shook off the cold and shrugged out of his coat. Though he knew his partner didn’t care, habit forced him to play the gentleman, so he took Harriet’s coat as well. Walking across the crowded foyer, he hung them both among a number of others on a rack in the corner.

  Suddenly, he caught a familiar scent, and it wasn’t tomatoes or oregano. Mark stiffened, instantly on alert as a sweetly spicy fragrance filled his head. Somehow, his body had recognized the sweet smell before his brain had identified it.

  It was perfume. Noelle’s perfume.

  He quickly quashed the excitement that had made his blood surge a little faster in his veins. Because another woman had to be wearing it. Noelle wouldn’t be here—he knew that much. He’d been trying to get her to come to the restaurant for the past two nights, but she’d refused. Sure, they’d gone out; she’d agreed to spend time with him doing something other than licking each other into mindless pleasure. But she hadn’t quite been ready to meet the folks.

  Already steeling himself against the disappointment, he turned around. And found himself looking into a pair of very familiar brown eyes.

  “Hi,” she said softly. She nibbled her lip. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to see you here so early.”

  “I had to pick up my car from Lottie,” he said, still stunned to see Noelle standing in his family’s restaurant. And looking positively beautiful.

  She wore a long, winter-white coat, which made her lush brown hair shine more vibrantly than usual. Her black cords clung to the curvaceous legs he’d been picturing in those thigh-high stockings for days.

  How in the name of God had he resisted her since Sunday night, when now, surrounded by dozens of people—including his partner and his family—he was dying to push her back against the wall and kiss her lungs out?

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you here at all,” he finally said, filling the intimate bubble of silence that had descended between them in the loud room.

  “It was an emerge
ncy,” she explained. “A major pizza craving.”

  Confident in his words, he said, “Well, honey, you’ve come to the right place. I wasn’t kidding when I said my father makes the best deep dish in Chicago.”

  “Perfect. Because that’s exactly what she’s dying for.”

  He paused. “She?”

  Nodding, Noelle slipped her heavy coat onto a hanger and hung it beside Mark’s, then turned to face him. He had a hard time even remembering what he’d asked when he saw the way her red sweater plunged between her perfect, shapely breasts. Damn. He was going to have to stand here for a minute or two or else risk his partner—and his mother—seeing the bulge in his pants.

  “Yeah. Sue is desperate for some Chicago deep dish.”

  Her pregnant cousin had a craving. That helped pull his attention off Noelle’s mouthwatering cleavage.

  Okay, pregnant women were known to have cravings. But what that had to do with Noelle being here, at Santori’s in Chicago, when Noelle was eighty miles away in Christmas, he had no idea. “Umh…we don’t deliver that far,” he said with a small grin.

  Sighing, she admitted, “I do.”

  His eyes widening, he stared at her in disbelief. “You mean you’re driving an hour and a half to deliver a pizza?”

  “It’s for a good cause. Baby FloJo is really hungry and I think I told you the only Italian place in Christmas only serves thin crust.”

  “Yeah,” he said, indeed remembering her comments about the restaurateur who’d compared deep dish to bread. The guy must have been born in New York. Then he focused on the rest of her statement. “FloJo?”

  Stepping out of the way of a beefy guy trying to squeeze past them to the coat rack, Noelle moved even closer to Mark. Close enough for him to inhale that spicy, delicious scent of hers. And to feel the warmth of her breaths on his cheek. “Sue says the baby’s using her kidney as a starting block so she’s obviously a runner.”