It Must Have Been the Mistletoe...

by Kate Hoffmann

  With a sigh, Tyler ducked the guy’s massive punch. Coming up, fists swinging and wearing a huge grin, he proved his hometown rep as an ass-kicker was still valid when he dove into the brawl.

  Yelping, Rita barely made it back against the bar before the fight went viral. Grunts and crunching groans sounded over the taunting cheers of the onlookers.

  Ten minutes, a bloody lip and a few broken bar stools later, Tyler finished his chat with the local cops. Rita’s boss stood in the still-crowded space, looking furious under his Santa hat. While he chewed Tyler out, Rita tried to calm a sputtering Benny.

  “Look, blame it on the mistletoe,” Tyler interrupted Larson’s lecture. “It’s no big. I’ll pay for damages. Kissing Rita was worth every penny.”

  “What?” In the middle of assuring Benny that Tyler had just been saying hi and didn’t mean anything by the kiss, Rita turned to stare into her longtime crush’s sexy blue eyes. She saw the desire battling with amusement there, and couldn’t hold back an answering smile. “Worth every penny, hmm?”

  She hadn’t meant to sound so flirtatious, but she couldn’t help it. Tyler Ramsey always made her feel she had something to prove. But her comments were the final straw for Benny. He threw up his puny arms as if shouting betrayal, and stormed out. Rita’s protest was lost on his departing back.

  “Miss Cole, were you the center of this altercation?”

  It suddenly hit home just what that kiss had cost her. Rita’s lust melted fast as she glared at Tyler. He wiped his swollen lip with the back of his hand and grinned. Desperate, she gave her boss a hopeful little smile and tried to BS her way out of the mess.

  “Now Mr. Larson, you know how these things go…”

  “Are you trying to say you were innocent?”

  Tyler’s snort of laughter made Rita grind her teeth.

  “You know the rules, Miss Cole,” Larson shot back, not waiting for her answer. “Get your personal effects and meet me upstairs in ten minutes. I’ll have your final wages prepared.”

  Ignoring her protests, as well as the echoing arguments from the surrounding waitresses and the bartender, the manager swept through the crowd toward a door marked Private. Fighting off despair, Rita watched him go. Then she sucked in a breath deep enough to make Tyler’s eyes glint in heated appreciation.

  “I hope you’re happy,” she muttered. “You couldn’t just say hello like a normal person?”

  “I thought you liked the kiss.” Looking just as cocky as he had when he’d raided the girls’ locker room, Tyler leaned his hip on a bar stool and gave her his patented aw, shucks smile.

  “That kiss wasn’t worth the spilled beer,” she lied.

  “Sweetheart, you’re breaking my heart.”

  “I’d like to break your head,” she snapped. He’d ruined everything. She needed this job, dammit. She had to get home. She remembered how he’d ruined her sister’s prom and glared at him. Obviously Tyler was living proof of once a gorgeous, sexy jerk, always a gorgeous, sexy jerk.

  Then, eyes narrowing, she dug her fists into the velvety fabric of her skirt. “But instead, I’m going to let you make it all better.”

  Tyler’s smile took on a wicked edge. His gaze cruised her curves.

  “All better, how?” he murmured, his meltingly flirtatious stare sweeping over her like a tingling caress.

  Rita ignored it. She’d be damned if he’d fog her brain with sex thoughts. His eyes traced the curve of her breasts beneath the tight red top, sending a shaft of heat spiraling deep in her belly. Okay, so she’d settle for not letting him know he’d fogged her brain.

  Plan B was kaput, so she needed her wits to develop a Plan C. And fast.

  “You not only got me fired, Tyler, you lost me my way home.”

  Before he could do more than wince, Rita was up in his face, toe to toe as she drilled one red-tipped finger into his chest. And she hoped like hell it hurt.

  “You heard Benny,” she said, despite the sick feeling in her stomach. The solution she’d come up with wasn’t one she liked, but it was all she had. “You caused this problem and he told you exactly how to fix it.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the fact that you just volunteered to be my escort home for the holidays.”

  CARTING THE LAST BIN to the door, Rita brushed her bangs out of her eyes with her shoulder and blew out a breath. A childhood on the road while her musician parents performed bluegrass, plus her own inability to settle in one place, made moving second nature. A half-dozen plastic storage bins, a couple suitcases and her tote bag and she was ready to roll.

  She dropped the bin on top of the hand truck and frowned at the random cardboard box next to her things.

  “Shawn? What’s this?” she yelled to her soon-to-be ex-roommate. Shawn trudged out, a huge mug of coffee almost hiding her face.

  “S’my present to you,” the petite brunette said around a yawn. “I know you didn’t make enough to cover that last payment on your ’rents gift, so I figured this’d help out.”

  Rita eyed the box. It was half the size of her storage bins, hardly big enough to hold an antique record player. “Is it like a do-it-yourself thing?” she joked, poking at the cardboard.

  Shawn choked on her coffee. Laughing, she wiped her chin and patted the box. “How’d you guess?”

  Eyes narrowed, Rita flipped a glance from the box to Shawn to the darkened window. It was a quarter to five in the morning—the time she’d told Tyler to pick her up. Did she have time to play games? Then again, what were the chances that he’d really show?

  “So what is it? A new toy?” she asked, peeking out the window.

  Not that she was anxious or anything. Tyler Ramsey was a first-class jerk, albeit one helluva gorgeous first-class jerk. But gorgeous didn’t matter, because he was just a means to an end. Plan C.

  She pressed her hand to her belly to settle the dancing nerves. Just because he’d knocked her on her ass with those magic lips of his didn’t mean she was itching to see him again. She hadn’t even put makeup on, proof positive that she wasn’t looking to make an impression.

  If he showed up, that was. Which he probably wouldn’t.

  “More like toys,” Shawn said, pulling Rita’s attention back to the mystery box with a gesture to open it.

  Rita tugged up the flaps, then frowned. She shook the box, staring at the colorful array of vibrators, cock rings and God knew what else as they tumbled together. Mouth dragging the floor, she gave her roommate a shocked stare. “What the…?”

  Shawn poked her fingernail at a neon green rubber dildo. “They’re discontinued toys. Last year’s models, overstocks, a few rejects. There’s a product guide in there I printed with their names, features, retail price. Should be all you need.”

  Rita goggled, actually goggled. What the hell?

  Her gaze bounced from Shawn’s sleepy face to the box of misfit sex toys. “I’m out of a job, homeless and heading to my parents’ for some holiday humiliation. And you’re giving me…the promise of satisfaction?” She glanced at the contents of the box again and added, “Over and over again?”

  Shawn smirked. “If that’s how you want it, sure. I figured you could, you know, sell them. Like they do at those toy parties and stuff? These are free and clear,” she assured Rita. Shawn owned an adult bookstore, and while she was a strong supporter of all things kink, she’d never do anything illegal.

  “Look, if you won’t take them as a present, take them as an apology.” Shawn stuffed her hands in her robe pockets and hunched her shoulders. “I hate that I can’t hold the room for you. It’s bad enough you’re out of a job, but…”

  “You need to make rent.” Rita didn’t want to add to Shawn’s guilt. “And I appreciate the idea, I really do—”

  “Don’t refuse,” Shawn interrupted. “Just, you know, think about it. If you decide the idea sucks, you can dump the box on the side of the road.”

  Rita snickered, not sure which
amused her more. The image of some random traveler finding a box of neon dildos. Or the idea of heading home with the hunkiest man she’d ever lusted after, carrying her own arsenal of sex toys.

  TYLER’S FINGERS RAPPED a fast rhythm on the steering wheel as he stared through the light dusting of snow at a dark apartment building. Tiny white lights shone from the lobby window, glinting off the red plastic bow on the door wreath.

  What the hell was he doing? Guilt didn’t work on him. He grimaced, shoulders hunching just a little. At least, it wasn’t supposed to work on him. But Rita had been right. His being a jackass had caused her problems. So here he was, five o’clock in the morning, playing chauffeur.

  He knew it was a huge mistake, yet he couldn’t convince himself to leave. He owed her. Sure, driving her home was gonna piss Benny off all over again. And yes, once Tyler’s own brother found out, Randy would join Benny in wanting to kick some ass. Yet he couldn’t stop himself.

  That was Rita Cole for you. From myopic Benny, who had no clue what she was like but worshipped her from afar, to gullible young Randy, who’d actually dated her back in high school and still carried a painful torch. Even Tyler himself had spent way too many teenage nights dreaming about her.

  Teenage, hell—he’d tossed and turned all last night reliving that kiss. The feel of her soft lips, the sensation of her curves pressed against his body. Her scent, her taste. The way her eyes had gone all soft and sexy when she stared up at him as if he was the answer to her every desire.

  Tyler dropped his head on the steering wheel and let it bounce a few times.

  He had to get a grip.

  And where was she? He glanced at the building again, then at his watch. Five more minutes and he was out of here. Even as he assured himself she wouldn’t show up, a part of him, the part that had crushed on her for years, wondered what it’d be like to spend a couple days with Rita. To actually get to know her. To find out if that sweetness he’d always suspected was under the surface of her flirty looks was real or imagined.

  Four minutes of enough reluctant fantasies to fog his windows and Tyler reached for the ignition. He couldn’t take any more. He’d paid his debt by showing up. It was better for everyone that she’d blown him off.

  As if she’d known his absolute limit, before he could turn the key there was a knock on the truck window. Tyler gave a manly effort to disguise his startled jump.

  “Rita.” Shit. Tyler told himself the surge rocketing through his system was irritation, not excitement. He stared, not sure what to make of the diva-turned-waif standing on the sidewalk. Unlike the woman he’d expected, she wasn’t fluff-haired and paint-faced, or dressed in diva-wear. Her hair was a straight fall—black as night—to shoulders wrapped in a puffy red jacket that’d seen better days. Her skin was as pale as usual, but Tyler was pretty sure the dewy glow was natural, not cosmetic. Not a speck of glitter or leather in sight.

  His brow furrowed as he stepped out of the truck. Where was the supersexy Rita he could lust after and dismiss?

  “Good morning,” she said with a bright smile that made him think more about hugging her than stripping her naked. Dammit. Then she gestured to a stack of storage containers piled on a dolly. “Wanna help me load these in the back?”

  Not luggage, Tyler noted as his gut tightened. Boxes. Like she was moving back home.

  Home, where his brother was. The brother who still talked about Rita as if she was the lost love of his life. Who claimed he’d never find true love because Rita had broken his heart. Who had laid blame for all his dating failures and almost bombing medical school at Rita’s feet.

  Tyler knew his little brother had a tendency to overreact. Half the time, he swore the kid would do better on the stage than in the hospital. But…he’d promised when their dad ran out twenty years back, that he’d always protect and look out for his family.

  So no matter how overdramatic he might think Randy was, Tyler was still driving home the woman who’d caused all his little brother’s misery.

  Wasn’t this going to be a merry freaking Christmas.

  3

  “LET’S SET A FEW GROUND rules before we hit the road,” Tyler decided, desperately needing to get the upper hand. He had no idea what rules to set, though. Don’t seduce me sounded a little pathetic.

  “Haven’t you heard? I don’t do rules.” Her anger was clear, even though her words were slurry with exhaustion. “And since I’ve spent the entire night packing because your cute little trick lost me not only my job, but my ability to pay rent, I am now going to take a nap.”

  Cute little trick? It took Tyler thirty whole seconds to realize she was referring to his kiss. Was she crazy? That lip-lock had been incendiary. The kind of stuff that burned down good intentions and leveled resistance. A move every guy in that bar had been fantasizing he could pull off.

  Cute, his ass. He directed a glare her way before he realized it was pointless.

  She’d tugged a pair of sunglasses over half her face and curled her body away from him, burrowing into the puffy red fabric of her coat. From the slow, even tenor of her breath, Tyler could tell she was already asleep.

  Well, hell. Nothing to do but leave, he realized, pulling away from the curb. The GPS on his dash flashed the route, marking it fourteen hours and twelve minutes until they arrived in Ponder Hill.

  Fourteen hours until Rita was in the same town as Randy. Randy who would throw a fit and ruin their mother’s holiday.

  Tyler glanced at the woman he’d always called a diva. She looked more like a worn-out waif, her bright red jacket contrasting her black hair and pale skin. She appeared to be out for a few hours, at least.

  Good. That would give him time to come up with a plan. Something. Anything.

  Maybe first, though, he should figure out how to get rid of this vague wish to curl up next to her, wrap her in his arms and bury his face in that silky hair.

  THE SMELL OF FOOD SLOWLY seeped through the cozy blanket of sleep wrapped around Rita. She had a brief, lethargic mental debate about diving back into her dreams, but nothing grabbed her attention faster than deep-fried cooking.

  With a little moan, she stretched her arms overhead, the cold glass of the passenger window sending shivers up her fingers. Uncurling her legs, she yawned and forced her eyes open. Even with sunglasses on, the overbright sunshine screamed morning. Squinting behind the dark lenses, she took in the view.

  They were parked outside a truck stop, surrounded by chrome and steel. Tyler had shifted, so his back was against the door and one knee drawn up on the bench seat. The food, glorious greasy goodness, was spread on a takeout tray between them. Fries and onion rings, a couple burgers, hot pie, some fruit and even a green salad. Obviously Tyler wasn’t an only-breakfast-in-the-morning kind of guy.

  She wished that didn’t add so much to his appeal.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” he drawled around a bite of what looked like a double-bacon cheeseburger. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a bit of everything.” Everything, indeed.

  Overwhelmed and blaming her vulnerability on being fresh from sleep, she pulled her gaze away from the hypnotic depths of his blue eyes and glanced around.

  Frowning, she looked at the clock on the dash. It was after eight and they weren’t even out of New Jersey?

  “What’s up?” she asked, feeling a little defensive with her face naked and still soft from sleep. “You too busy watching me nap to put in the mileage?”

  “What makes you think I was watching you?”

  Rita gave him a wink and ran her fingers through her hair to wind it into a ponytail. “Because sleeping with me is a goal of men far and wide,” she teased.

  “How d’ya know you don’t drool?” he asked.

  Rita couldn’t tell if he was flirting or not. Tyler came across as this laconic, rough-edged bad boy with a wicked sense of humor and an even more wicked right hook. But for all his good-ol’-boy charm, he was impossible to read.

  “Me? Drool? No way
.” Sucking up the sweet punch of carbonated caffeine, she gave him an arch look. “I have plenty of references who’ll swear otherwise.”

  Tyler’s blue eyes narrowed, then took on a deliciously languorous look. The kind of look she figured he gave his bedmates just before a little morning tumble. Her stomach dipped down to her toes as she imagined waking up next to him. Beside him. On top of him.

  He’d never given her that look before. She warned herself not to let it go to her head.

  “I’m not the kind of guy who relies much on references. I’d rather decide for myself.”

  “Is that an invitation?” she asked in a low, wicked tone.

  His grin was a slow work of art. She knew better than to tumble at the sight of a wicked smile and sexy eyes, but man, oh man, her breath still hitched a little.

  “If I issue an invitation, sweetheart, you won’t have to clarify.”

  Taking a moment to replenish the breath in her lungs, Rita tried to calm her racing pulse and eject from her head the vivid images of the two of them sliding together in a naked dance.

  “I’ll make note of that,” she murmured, pretending she wasn’t cowed by reaching for some fruit instead of pursuing that intriguing line of thought.

  “So, what’s up?” she asked after she’d finished an orange and half the French fries. A balanced breakfast if she did say so herself. “I’m not criticizing, but why aren’t we farther along?”

  Something flickered in his eyes. Rita didn’t know what, or why, but she felt her defenses rise.

  “I’ve got a few stops to make on my way home. Some bike shops, a couple buddies who’re interested in new rides.”

  Rita knew he was talking about the motorcycles he customized. He’d always been into bikes. It must be nice, she mused, to find a niche that fit so perfectly.

  “Okay,” she said, as if her agreement mattered. They both knew it didn’t, since she’d basically shanghaied this ride home. “How much longer? A few hours? Half a day?”