Don't Open Till Christmas Page 6

  He wasn’t wearing the leather jacket he’d had on in the store—and again yesterday at the shelter—so she was able to fully appreciate the man’s amazing body. Good God in heaven, she could sleep all night on top of that chest and never roll off the side.

  Wow. Just…wow.

  “Do you two know each other?” Randy asked, looking back and forth between the two of them, confusion on his smooth face.

  “No. We absolutely do not know each other,” Mark answered, a small smile playing about his oh-so-kissable lips. “I’m afraid we are complete strangers.”

  Suddenly she got it. That spark of wickedness in his eyes told her so everything she needed to know about what was on the black-haired detective’s mind.

  He was offering her a chance, giving her the opportunity to take exactly what she’d sworn she wanted. A sultry interlude, far away from home with a perfect stranger. And he was perfect. Oh, most definitely.

  How he’d come to be here suddenly didn’t seem to matter. Maybe he’d followed her. Maybe he was investigating his case. Maybe it was pure chance. What mattered was that he was here. They both were. He was staying in her room, would be sleeping in her nice, big, comfortable bed. A hunky, naked man covered only by her thin pink-and-white percale sheets. Just like she’d dreamed about when she was a lusty teenager. It only remained to decide what to do about it.

  The money moment had arrived, she had to put up or shut up. Whether he’d followed her here to Christmas, or this was all some karmic set-up, she was being handed the opportunity to indulge in the fantasies that had filled her head since the moment this man had stumbled into her dressing room.

  She could take. Have. Indulge. Savor. Embrace.

  Or she could chicken out and go to bed on the fold-out couch in the living room, tossing and turning through the night, picturing him right down the hall. All self-protective, keeping her heart guarded and her legs closed.

  You can lose your clothes and still keep your heart under lock and key, a voice whispered in her head.

  There really was no deciding. No hesitation at all. So with a slow smile and a slower nod, Noelle murmured, “Well, then, stranger, here’s hoping your stay in our little town is something you’ll never forget.”

  Their eyes met, their stares held. Somehow, just as they had when they’d kissed on the sidewalk yesterday evening, they exchanged a wealth of information—of invitation and acceptance—without saying a single word. They were both fully aware of the sexual promises they’d just made to one another.

  Everything else seemed to fade away, including Randy who was probably still somewhere in the vicinity. But even he didn’t seem to really exist in this new place—this place of heady, sensual delight that she and Mark had just created with nothing more than the silent acknowledgement of what was to come.

  Mark was feeling the magical intensity of it, too. She could see it in the curve of his lips, the lazy sensuality of his small movements as he leaned a hip against the front desk. Understanding and a sultry kind of want shone in his green eyes. That only built the heat even more. “I somehow suspect I won’t forget a minute of my stay here in Christmas,” he whispered, his voice low and thick.

  Though the lobby of the inn was warm enough, Noelle couldn’t prevent a tiny shiver of pure anticipation, knowing she was about to embark on the kind of erotic adventure she’d always longed for but had never truly, in her heart of hearts, believed she’d have. Now, however, looking at the straight-from-her-fantasies man watching her with desire nearly dripping from him in waves, she knew everything she’d ever wanted was just a few short hours away.

  And she couldn’t help feeling that Mark Santori’s stay in Christmas was going to be something she would never forget, either.

  As long as she remembered her new mantra: arms—and other body parts—open, heart firmly closed.

  4

  RETIRING TO HIS ROOM that evening, Mark looked at it through new eyes, knowing it was Noelle’s. The femininity of it—all soft and pink—would normally have made him turn and run, and not only because of the Martha Stewart–like décor. He also wasn’t about to put someone out of their own room. So if he wasn’t pretty damn sure she’d be sharing the bed with him tonight, he’d have given up the room as soon as he’d found out it was Noelle’s.

  But he was pretty sure she would be sharing the nice, big bed with him. And his whole body got hot and alert just thinking about it.

  A man of few previous commitments, he’d still never considered sex as easy or casual. He’d had a couple of relationships—only one serious—and had never done the one-nightstand thing, unless a few wild college parties counted. So why he was ready to jump into a fast affair with a woman he’d met just a week ago, he really couldn’t say. He didn’t, however, have a single doubt that he wanted this. Wanted her. Wanted them. For at least this weekend.

  Maybe it was the knowledge that they might have only this weekend that made him prowl anxiously around the bedroom. Probably wearing a horseshoe-shaped pattern in the pale pink rug, he paced around the three sides of the antique, four-poster bed. The soft pink duvet, combined with the white and pink wallpaper with rose-trimmed border, made the place look like something out of a romance magazine. The gentle lighting provided by one frilly, shaded lamp on the bedside table lent an intimate glow to the room, making it that much more alluring. Dreamy. It gave him a sudden glimpse into the psyche of the woman who was about to become his lover.

  Noelle was a romantic.

  He might not have expected it of the sweater-wearing social worker, but the woman he’d kissed in the twilight last night? Yeah. Absolutely. And she was the woman he was waiting so very anxiously to see again.

  Still, wanting desperately to go to bed with Noelle Bradenton didn’t mean he was totally cool with this evening. Knowing what was going to happen between them should have relieved the tension and pressure of wondering. Instead, it put him on edge, made him wonder if they were being too deliberate. Because after the spontaneous combustion of their sexy, hot encounter in the dressing room, he wondered if a scheduled weekend of passion was going to be a letdown.

  “Letdown, my ass,” he muttered, knowing the sex was going to be phenomenal.

  It wasn’t the sex that was bugging him, he suddenly realized. It was what was going to happen after the sex, when Noelle breezed out of his life, satisfied and sated, never wanting to set eyes on him again. And as the moment drew closer and closer, he began to wonder if he’d made a big tactical error in offering to be Noelle’s weekend stranger.

  He didn’t have a moment more to think about it, though, because a soft knock on the door signaled her arrival. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was a few minutes past eight. Something had made him think she’d come late at night, when the house was silent. That she’d creep through shadows, perhaps even slipping naked into his bed while he slept.

  But no, it was relatively early and there were other lights on in the house. So maybe she changed her mind.

  He thrust that thought away as he opened the door, not even trying to determine if that was a good thing or a bad one. The second he set eyes on her, however, he gave up his mental resistance.

  Noelle had not had a change of heart about what she wanted—the smile on her lips confirmed it. And right at this moment, with her beautiful face lit by the soft hallway light, he couldn’t think of a single bad thing about it.

  “Hi,” she murmured, her voice shaking a little. From nervousness, or excitement, he couldn’t tell.

  “Hi yourself.” He stepped back and ushered her in, noting the shiny silkiness of her hair hanging loosely past her shoulders.

  She’d changed her clothes and now wore a low-cut black sweater and cream-colored cords that hugged the body he’d been fantasizing about for a week. The glimpse of black lace peeking out from the shoulder hem of her sweater made Mark close his eyes for a second, remembering how amazing she’d looked the day they’d met.

  Oh, no, she definitely hadn’t changed
her mind. The only question was: would he?

  “My cousin is on bed-rest, and her husband spends the evenings with her in their private suite,” she said, her voice still a bit thready and weak. “The other guests are all already in their rooms for the night, too.” Noelle’s hands were clasped in front of her waist, and she was babbling a little, another sign of her nervousness.

  Hell, he couldn’t blame her. This was…weird. Just, strange. They both wanted each other like a couple of horny teenagers, but weren’t sure how to proceed. Just dive onto the bed, letting clothes fling where they may? Start with a conversation about the weather? Or something in-between.

  Like maybe a date?

  “This is…I don’t know what to…”

  “Shh,” he said, feeling for her because of the visible embarrassment that made her eyes flare and her bottom lip disappear between her teeth.

  She lowered her head, a curtain of thick, rich dark hair shielding her face. “I might have sounded pretty cocky, but I’ve never done anything like this.”

  “I know. Neither have I.” Coming no closer, he sat on the padded bench in front of the vanity table, deciding to take things one step at a time. He’d be patient even if it killed him. Because in the end, the payoff was going to be fantastic—whether it occurred tonight or a month from now. “So if we’re total strangers,” he said with a smile, “are we allowed to talk at all?”

  She lowered herself to the edge of the bed. “I don’t know.”

  “How about we agree to steer clear of personal issues and find something else to discuss?”

  Her bottom lip stuck out a little and she frowned. “As long as it’s not about Christmas.”

  “The town, or the holiday?”

  “Both.”

  “Another Christmas hater, huh?” When she nodded, he continued. “I guess we do have a lot in common. This is some hometown you have. I can see why you left.”

  “You mean you haven’t suddenly developed a taste for gingerbread and turkey?”

  “Gimme a pizza any day,” he said with a shrug.

  “Me, too. Chicago deep dish. They don’t make it within a thirty mile radius of here. Mr. Lebowski owns the only Italian place, and he only serves thin crust. Says if you want bread, go to the bakery.”

  “My family makes the best deep dish pie in the city,” he said, not even trying to be modest. “You’ll have to come by Santori’s and try it one night.”

  Her eyes clouded over and she glanced down.

  Bad move. He’d stepped out of stranger mode and treated her like a friend. Or, even worse, a date. “So why don’t you tell me why only a stranger will do?”

  Her jaw dropped. “Well, if that’s not personal, I don’t know what is.”

  She’d misunderstood. He quickly clarified. “I don’t mean I want to know about your romantic track record.” Rising and smiling slowly as he stepped closer to the bed, he murmured, “I mean, why don’t you tell me what wicked, sexy things you’ve been wanting to do that you could only make happen with a complete stranger, someone you’ll never have to face again?” Maybe by talking about what was driving her, Noelle would relax and let them both figure out exactly what they wanted to happen here.

  Sex, yeah. But Mark was beginning to suspect that sex might not be enough. And a single weekend definitely wasn’t going to be. At least, not for him.

  Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, she admitted, “I guess you just answered your own question, didn’t you? About why a stranger is the perfect person to…experiment with?”

  He swallowed hard, but didn’t relent. With his jeans brushing against her slacks, he said, “You must have some really wild stuff in mind if you think you’ll never be able to face your lover again once you’re done.” Dozens of vivid, evocative images flashed in his brain as he imagined giving her everything she’d ever wanted. He somehow managed to thrust them away, determined to push this issue with Noelle before either of them took things beyond the point of no return. “So tell me what you fantasize about? What erotic, outrageous, potentially illegal things do you want to do and never have to admit to in the light of day?”

  She gasped, as he’d expected her to, at hearing her plan put in such bald terms. But he wasn’t backing off. “Do your fantasies include domination? Do you want to be in total control, or completely controlled?” he lowered his voice. “I do have handcuffs with me.”

  Maybe, deep down, Mark was expecting her to back off, to rethink her weekend affair idea. And maybe, even deeper, part of him wanted her to. Because as much as he wanted her—and oh, Christ, did he want her—he wasn’t sure he wanted her on her terms. He didn’t know if he could stand being buried deep inside her body and not hearing her cry out his name—his real name—when he made her come. Or that he could share some of the most intimate, carnal moments of his life with someone who never wanted to see him again.

  This stranger thing, he’d begun to realize, might not be a great idea.

  “So?” he asked, hearing a slight taunt in his voice as he practically dared her to put up or shut up, “tell me every sensual, evocative thing you’ve ever dreamed of doing, but never figured you really would.”

  She tilted her head back and looked up at him, a warm flush of color rising in her cheeks. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips and he nearly lost his mind.

  Mark swallowed, wondering if he’d just made a very bad move. Because instead of teasing her into a smile, he appeared to have taunted her into a seductress. “Noelle…”

  “You smell good,” she whispered.

  “So do you.” Unable to resist, he reached out and slid his fingers through her long, silky hair. Then he trailed a path down her neck and over her shoulder, until he was ever-so-lightly touching the lacy strap of her black bra. The warmth and softness of her skin only made him want to touch her more, and the sweet scent of her hair made him long to bury his face in it and absolutely inhale her.

  “Do you really want to know what I want? What I’m absolutely dying to have?”

  The purr in her voice was wickedly seductive. Mark’s body reacted powerfully as the lazy interest that had kept him semierect all evening surged into full-fledged arousal. Noelle, still sitting beneath him, had to notice; she was practically face-level with his crotch. Her audible gasp nearly made him back off, but she stopped him by smiling a little and shifting on the bed. As if she was restless. As if she was wet. As if she was ready.

  “I want that.” She reached out and fried his circuits completely by letting the back of her hand brush against the length of his erection, barely contained by the zipper of his jeans. “I want every bit of that.” She touched him again. Lightly, evocatively, tracing the full outline of his cock with her fingers and smiling secretly, as if pleased by whatever she’d discovered.

  He had the feeling he knew why she was pleased, and looked forward to showing her just how much he had to give her.

  When she leaned close, so that her lips brushed against the fabric of his jeans, he had to clench his fists. “Noelle…”

  “You’re right,” she murmured. Then she breathed deeply, letting him feel the warmth of her exhalations through the denim. “There’s so much I want to do. So much I’ve never done.”

  She sounded dreamy, sultry, and very, very hungry.

  “What happened to conversation?” he asked through a very tight throat, wondering exactly when this situation had spun completely out of his control.

  “It’s overrated.”

  He decided she was right when she reached for his zipper and slowly began tugging it down. “Can I at least kiss you first?” he said, while still capable of coherent thought.

  “Nuh-uh,” she whispered as she finished unzipping, then unbuttoning his jeans. Leaning closer, until he could feel her warm breath through the cotton of his boxer briefs, she added, “When you kiss me, I get…distracted.”

  Distracted? Uh, yeah, he got that. He could barely focus on his own name, much less anything else, when he loo
ked down and saw her sweet mouth so very, very close to him.

  Her cool fingers traced his bulge again. Noelle’s eyes went even darker with want as she stared at a spot of moisture on his briefs. “I want to taste you.” That’s just what she did, her pretty little tongue flicking out to scrape against the gray cotton so she could sample his essence.

  “Holy mother of…You’re killing me here,” he muttered hoarsely.

  She didn’t stop. Instead, Noelle teasingly slipped her fingertips into the front opening of his shorts, almost cooing as she delicately brushed them against his dick.

  “So warm and smooth.” Her voice sounded wondering. “How can something so hard feel so incredibly soft to the touch?”

  Another bit of his control flew out the window. “Noelle…”

  “I’m a stranger, remember?” she whispered, never looking up, remaining focused on her sensual task.

  Hell, he was lucky he could remember his own name at this point. And when she moved to let her tongue replace her fingertips, lightly flicking it against the little bit of skin she’d revealed, he realized he couldn’t even remember that.

  Unable to resist, he stroked her thick, dark hair, wondering how it was going to feel spread across his naked groin. It appeared he was going to find out very, very soon.

  The strains of the hallelujah chorus filled his head for some bizarre reason, which almost made it seem he had heavenly approval to get as erotic and carnal as Noelle wanted him to. Gabriel himself couldn’t have resisted the devilish woman who was driving him crazy with her slow, deliberate breathing and the light strokes of her fingers. Not to mention the delicate flicks of her tongue.

  Then he realized something, and froze completely.

  The singing wasn’t just in his mind. It was coming from right outside the window.

  SUE HALLORAN HAD THOUGHT being pregnant was going to be a breeze. No, the pregnancy hadn’t exactly been planned and it had taken Randy a little while to get used to the idea that there was going to be a baby in their lives. Oh, he’d never been unhappy about it—if there was ever a man who was born to be a father, she’d married him. But Randy had worried himself into a state of panic within an hour of learning he was going to be a Daddy.