by Vonnie Davis
Santa Wore Leathers
Vonnie Davis
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Vonnie Davis
About HarperImpulse
About the Publisher
HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013
Copyright © Vonnie Davis
Cover Images © Shutterstock.com
Vonnie Davis asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International
and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access
and read the text of this e-book on screen.
No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,
downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or
stored in or introduced into any information storage and
retrieval system, in any form or by any means,
whether electronic or mechanical, now known or
hereinafter invented, without the express
written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © November 2013
ISBN: 9780007555314
Version 2014-10-01
Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
To my awesome critique partners, AJ Nuest and Rachel Brimble, fabulous authors who point out when I’ve used the same phrase three times on the same page and remind me a participle looks nasty when it dangles. Thanks for your patience, my darlings.
Chapter 1
My new neighbor is a man-whore.
Becca Sinclair peered through the window of her townhouse, her fingertips flying over the keyboard. This new post on her “The Things Men Do” blog would definitely entertain her twelve hundred followers. Comments would amass and maybe, if she were lucky, she’d increase her audience.
Marshall, her editor at the Clearwater Daily, had dangled the incentive of giving her a weekly column, but only if she secured fifteen hundred followers. The poor schmuck had no idea how determined she was. Or how much women loved reading her comical, often snarky, take on the male gender.
With her desk positioned in front of the bay window in her living room, she had a great view of the goings-on in her neighborhood. This secluded vantage point had birthed many well-read posts. She raised her tiny espresso cup to her lips, inhaled its strong aroma as she sipped and read over her first paragraph on the screen.
About an hour ago, a brunette showed up at his front door carrying a box of Krispy Kremes. Just now, a blonde parked her red car behind the silver compact of woman number one. Before woman number two’s stilettos hit the pavement, shirtless man-whore jogged out of his townhouse to greet her, no doubt in an attempt to head her off at the pass. Pardon the cliché, sistahs, but men ARE so clichéd, are they not?
Becca’s gaze swept from her monitor to her neighbor and the blonde talking on the sidewalk. Man-whore must lift weights in his sleep to get a build like that. How hard would his muscles feel if she ran her hands over them? Dismissing her thought with an eye roll, she allowed her perusal to continue. Like most Floridians, he had a deep tan which, when combined with his sculptured muscles, presented a very potent male package. If she were one to notice, which she was not.
His hair was dark and straight, brushing his shoulders. When he turned, revealing his chest, there was a very nice treasure trail leading to jeans riding low on his hips. The two people moved and Becca began typing again.
The blonde gushed as she handed him a foil-covered pan. My randy neighbor peeled back the cover, swiped a finger over whatever she’d made and stuck his digit in his mouth. With the pan tucked to his muscled chest like a football, he deigned to give her a hug before she drove off.
By the time he turned and walked to his front door, he’d eaten two pastries. Evidently he’s a man-whore with a huge appetite.
Becca finished her post and closed her laptop. “Einstein, are you ready for your walk?” Her German shepherd barked once in response and circled her twice. “Get your leash while I put on my shoes.”
Einstein slipped his rope off the doorknob and carried it to her, his head held proudly and his backside wiggling in anticipation of their morning run. Becca tied her sneakers and did a few quick stretches before snapping the leash onto the dog’s collar.
Two miles later they returned to Seashell Lane, jogging toward home in her gulf-side community on the northern fringes of Clearwater, Florida. She loved her neighborhood; a comfortable blend of retirees and small families. At least, it had been, until two weeks ago, when her new neighbor, with his constant stream of female visitors, moved in. Her gaze swept to the townhouse next to hers. The man went through women quicker than her ex-husband.
Just then his door opened, and man-whore stepped out on his small front porch. In a purely feminine reaction, she reached to smooth back her hair. Suddenly, Einstein wrenched his leash from her grip and took off.
“Einstein! Einstein, stop!” She sprinted after her errant dog.
Her neighbor pivoted. Einstein leaped, knocking him back against the door. “Whoa there, big guy!” He accepted the canine kisses and aimed dark eyes at her. “Is he yours? He’s some dog.” His large hands ruffled Einstein’s fur. Firm biceps flexed under her neighbor’s black Harley T-shirt, and the bottom of a wicked tribal tattoo peeked from beneath his right sleeve.
“Yes. I’m sorry he jumped on you. He never takes off like that.” No doubt one dog recognizes another.
“Man, I’d love a dog like him. A man’s dog, you know? I’ve got a cat. Not by choice, though. When my sister went off to college, she left Fluffy with me.”
Man-whore aimed a wide smile at her, his perfectly straight teeth a contrast to his tan. A dimple winked. The fact he only had one dimple was the singular flaw on his flawlessly handsome face. Now that she was within five feet of him, she could clearly examine his features. Having watched him through her window from time to time, she knew he was tall and muscular. But up close, she realized he had the body of a serious weight lifter. His long, dark-brown hair was brushed straight back. The skin crinkled at the corners of espresso-colored eyes when he smiled, which he seemed to do easily and frequently. Yet, it was the vision of him holding a cat named Fluffy that nearly made her smile. Muscle man and putty cat.
“You live next door, don’t you?” He jerked his head toward her home.
She bent to grasp the end of her dog’s leash. “Yes, I do.”
He extended his hand when she straightened. “Dan Wolford.” His dimple flashed again and his smile did
all kinds of twitchy things to her insides. “Most people simply call me Wolf.”
I’ll just bet they do.
She glanced at his hand for a second. No need to be rude, even if she didn’t care for his cavalier attitude toward women. She did the polite thing. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Dan.”
“Wolf, please.” His large paw enveloped hers, and warmth spread upwards from her stomach, did a backflip and then dove downwards. Meanwhile, his dark gaze assessed her entire body and face, as if she were the most dazzling woman in sweaty running clothes he’d ever seen. His solitary dimple winked along with his thousand-watt smile. One dark eyebrow rose as if he were waiting for her to share her name. She wasn’t sure why she hesitated. She was reluctant. Fueled by his cocksure attitude, no doubt. Now there was a cliché, if ever she’d heard one.
His thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles over her knuckles detonating sensual signals straight to her core. Oh, he was good at this magnetism stuff.
Wolf glanced at her prancing, panting dog. “Einstein, does your owner have a name? It looks like she’s not sharing today.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake.
Einstein whined, his tongue lolling crooked from his mouth.
“Huh, looks like Einstein’s not talking either.” She tugged her hand free. “Excuse me. I have Christmas shopping planned for this afternoon. I better get going.” She pivoted toward her front door.
“Have a good day, Becca Sinclair.” His deep voice washed over her, sending an annoyed shiver up her spine. So the man knew her name all along and was just playing dumb. Was that sneaky arrogance or stalker-creepy?
She glared at him over her shoulder. “If you knew my name, why’d you make a big deal out of asking for it?”
He shrugged and looked down for a beat before aiming his dark eyes at her again. “When a man finds a strange woman attractive, he asks around until he finds out something about her. Mrs. Minelli, two doors down, fears you’ve been pining away for your ex-husband.”
Sneaky stalker creepy.
She turned, snapped her fingers once and Einstein sat at her feet before she planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t appreciate being the topic of neighborhood gossip, Dan Wolford.” Her earlier blog post came to mind, but she mentally swiped it away like a nasty bug on a windshield. On her blog, he and anyone else she wrote about remained anonymous. No one knew exactly who these men were or if they even existed. No harm; no foul.
His smile slid from his face and he stepped toward her. “Mrs. Minelli also said you never smile anymore. I can see she’s right. Look, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She turned to leave and he reached out to grab her arm.
Einstein growled deep in his throat.
In response, Wolf’s hand slipped into his pocket. “Before you go, I’m having a party tonight for my birthday. Nothing big. Family and a few guys from the station. You’re more than welcome to come.”
He has to be kidding. No way am I spending an evening with him, birthday party or not. “Sorry, I have plans.” A pizza and a romance book. “Have a good day, Mr. Wolford.” Clearly she needed to establish some boundaries with this guy. She strode the few feet to her door. Einstein followed.
“Becca, the name’s Wolf,” he called after her.
“Whatever,” she waved her hand in dismissal, “Mister Wolford.”
His deep, warm laughter swept over her like a balmy breeze off the Gulf of Mexico. In response, her temper whirled hot like a cyclone and her fingers curled into fists. Damn, what an arrogant man.
“Seven o’clock. No need to bring a gift. Having you there will be present enough.”
Seriously? Couldn’t the man come up with more original material? Was this how he spoke to every woman to coax them into his bed? And wasn’t that a sad commentary on the brainpower of the female gender if even one fell for it?
“Don’t hold your breath, Fluffy Daddy,” she yelled as she slipped her key in the lock.
He laughed harder. “Make it seven, baby.”
Seven, my ass.
Chapter 2
He shouldn’t have pushed her like that. Hell, he’d be lucky if his attractive neighbor ever spoke to him again. But, wow, how dazzling she’d looked with that brimstone flashing from her hazel eyes. For some reason, the more he talked, the more they sparked. It was almost as if she were pissed at him before he even opened his mouth. But, why?
Wolf’s four younger sisters had initiated him into the mystifying workings of the female mind. His naturally intuitive nature responded fairly well to their fluctuating moods. Once more his gaze shifted to Becca’s front porch. Her body language had been one of total disdain and he hadn’t responded well to it at all. In fact, he’d egged her on. “Yanked her chain,” as April, the oldest of his four sisters, would say.
No doubt he should go next door and apologize for acting like such an ass. Maybe then he could convince the auburn-haired beauty to come to his party tonight. In the two weeks he’d lived here, she’d jogged past his window several times. Her beauty dazzled him. Her long legs were too distracting. And the tales Mrs. Minelli, an elderly neighbor, told about Becca’s giving nature charmed him too. He’d never cared much for self-centered women.
He strode to her townhouse, rang the doorbell and waited.
Finally, her door opened and he was greeted with a scowl. “What?” She tugged the lapels of her short white silky robe together.
“I…ah…” His gaze snagged on all those ample curves showcased by the slinky material. “I…ah…”
“You said that already.” She fisted a hand on her hip.
Einstein cannonballed around Becca with something red clamped in his jaws. He streaked across the grass, his strong muscles propelling him as he circled both of their yards.
“Get back in here!” Becca pointed into her house.
Einstein loped across the grass and shrubbery, ignoring his owner’s command.
Maybe if he acted the hero and returned the pet to its owner, he’d gain a few brownie points. “Stay here. I’ll get him.” Wolf took off after the dog.
Seeing he was being chased only made Einstein run faster. Wolf followed him twice around the yard in front of Becca’s house. The dog leapt over a flowerbed and stopped, his head lowered, shaking his prize, his hind end elevated, wiggling in excitement.
“Give me that.” Wolf stepped to the right around the flowerbed. The dog trotted to the left. In a quick move, he sprinted to the left and the dog dashed to the right. “Think you’re smart, don’t you?” He could have sworn the dog smiled.
Wolf leapt across the blooms, hoping to grab the smartass canine. Once he’d grabbed the collar, they rolled, and Einstein yelped. Wolf grimaced as he, too, rolled across a low-growing cactus and into the trunk of a palm tree. “Dammit.”
The dog whined and dropped the fabric to lick and bite at the prickly thorns in his groin.
“Easy now, Einstein.” Wolf cooed as he slipped his Swiss army knife from the front pocket of his jeans.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on? What are you doing with that knife?” Becca tugged on the hem of her short robe and glanced up and down the street as if she thought to run out into the yard.
“Stay where you are. He’ll be fine. He’s got some thorns in his hide.” Wolf removed the tweezers stored in a slot in the knife and began extracting the offending needles. “We can’t have an awesome fella like you in pain now, can we?” He worked as quickly as he could. “One more, big guy, and then you’ll be fine.” The dog licked him several times. “Yeah, I like you too. Let’s keep what I’m about to do just between us, shall we?” He ran his fingers over the affected groin area, keeping his attentions on the dog’s reactions. “Looks like we got them all.”
“What in blue blazes are you doing to that dog? Are you performing some kind of ‘beasty-wildy’ on him?” Mrs. Minelli, his neighbor, punctured the air with her cane, her white eyebrows arched in question.
He fought the urge to laugh. “No, Mrs. Mine
lli. I was taking out thorns.”
She cocked her head to the side, her cataract-clouded eyes widened. “In his penis?”
Christ! “No, ma’am. I was just helping him.” He made a mental note to sterilize the tweezers later when he slipped them back into his Swiss knife.
Becca ran across the yard. “What’s going on?”
He turned to tell her about the thorns and stopped. His tongue all but rolled out onto the grass. The Florida sunlight had turned her robe nearly translucent. She had legs that went to her waist, or so they seemed, except for that red patch at their juncture. Evidently her auburn hair was her natural color. His gaze traveled upward to the dusty-pink nipples showcased by the rays of sunshine. All the blood rushed from his brain to his cock. Holy Mother of God.
Wolf couldn’t move. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Einstein trotted to his mistress and licked her knees and, for an instant, he thought of doing the same thing. Be cool, man.
Becca held her robe in place with one hand and grabbed her dog’s collar with her other. “How are you today, Mrs. Minelli?”
“I’m fine, but you’d better get back inside” The elderly woman pointed again with her cane. “That robe is so see-through, we can tell if your belly button is an innie or an outie.”
Becca glanced down and gasped. “Crap!” She spun and bolted for her door, taking Einstein with her.
“I’d watch myself if I were you. She’s not the kind a man diddles with. She’s a decent girl.” She nodded once and shuffled down the sidewalk toward her house.
