by Jill Shalvis
Specifically, his black leather dress shoes.
Not Ned in the bathroom with Ms. Fabulous Choos, but . . . Matt?
And just like that, her humiliation vanished, and so did the ball of nerves lodged in her throat. “It was you,” she breathed. “You were the one in the women’s bathroom!”
He blinked. Snowflakes fell from his long, dark lashes. “What?”
It made perfect sense. Women were always talking about him, sighing over him, drooling over him . . . “I heard you two in the stall,” she said in disgust, crossing her arms. “Now, I’m sorry I ran into you, but truthfully, you’d distracted me. Get a room next time, sheesh!”
A slow shake of his head. “I can assure you, I don’t frequent the women’s bathroom.”
She didn’t believe him, of course, but his denial did mean that she had to take full responsibility for her own stupidity. Damn, she hated that. Sighing, she rubbed her temples. “Okay, fine. You’re being discreet. I get it. I’m sorry about your headlight. I’ll have it fixed. Just let me get my insurance information—” She turned toward her car, but he took her arm and pulled her back around.
He was always doing that—that being whatever he wanted. In fact, she figured if she looked up “alpha male” in the dictionary, she’d find his picture there.
“You’re looking like a Popsicle,” he said. “It can wait until tomorrow.”
Unexpected decency. That, too, made her self-righteousness difficult to maintain. She wished he’d be an ass about this, but even she had to admit that while Matt defined stubbornness and mule-headedness, he also possessed integrity in spades. She’d seen it in action, when he ran town meetings, maintaining the voice of reason, even if it had a sarcastic edge.
She also knew him to be wild, daring, and a complete rebel at heart. So much so that no woman had ever tamed him.
Cami had never even considered trying, especially since she was too competitive to give him the upper hand, in or out of bed.
After all, he was unlike any man she’d ever been with, or wanted to be with—not that she had much to go on. He was just a little uncivilized, just a little politically incorrect. Not afraid of a battle.
And she so wanted to say not decent.
But he was still holding onto her arm, guiding her off the icy asphalt and into her car.
“Matt?” The female voice came from the pretty blonde sticking her head out of the passenger side of his car. “What’s taking so long?”
Cami rolled her eyes and muttered beneath her breath to Matt. “Probably you should have stayed in the women’s bathroom.”
“Her car wouldn’t start. I’m giving her a ride home.”
“And don’t forget the ride in the bathroom.”
“I wasn’t in the bath—”
“Whatever.” She tried to pull her door shut, but his big body was in the way.
“Are you going to be careful?” he asked.
“Move, or lose a body part.”
“Just don’t hit reverse until I get out of your way,” he said with a smirk, wisely stepping out of her way just as she slammed the door.
2
Matt’s evening could be going better. He could be at his brother’s house nursing a beer and a pizza while watching the Lakers game.
Instead, he had to forgo his favorite evening wear—jeans—for a tux. In less than half an hour, he was going to be standing around, smiling at ridiculous small talk about the weather, eating tiny little hors d’oeuvres of questionable origin that never filled him up, all while being scrutinized by every single guest there, even by people who’d known him for years.
This was because he had a big old bull’s-eye on his back, courtesy of getting the mayoral position unelected.
Never mind that there had been a city hall vote that he’d won by a vast majority. Never mind that he’d never done anything but great things for the town of Blue Eagle. Never mind that he was exactly where he wanted to be—for now—when it came to work.
Until he figured out who the hell was messing with the town’s reputation, there would be rumors and doubts and questions. Frustrated over that, he left his house. Still snowing, which meant good skiing this weekend. The roads would be icy. Not so good. He got into his car and headed back to Town Hall for the ball. His starched shirt scratched him every time he so much as leaned forward to adjust the radio. His shoes were making his feet unhappy campers.
And a mile from his house, the rest of his headlight fell out. Nice, and yet the irritation faded as he remembered what Cami’s face had looked like when she’d realized she’d hit his car.
Frazzled.
The thought made him grin because Cami frazzled was an amusing sight. A sexy one, too. It was her eyes, so brave, so huge and expressive, that made him inexplicably hungry, and not just for melting chocolate.
But more than just her eyes got to him. She had one of those bodies that women complained about and men loved, curvy and lush despite the yoga she did with her team for relaxation—useless in her case because she was incapable of relaxing, he’d discovered.
In fact, it was the office joke—she was so tightly wound, she squeaked when she walked.
Most men would be put off by that, and given her dating record, they had been put off but good. But he had a feeling that beneath all the organization and planning and general analness beat a wildly passionate heart. He saw it when she was lost in a project at work, when she stood in front of the council and argued for that project with all her might. How many times had she made it her personal goal to pit herself against him for any of a million reasons?
And each and every time, the air between them had crackled like lightning.
The truth was, whether she admitted it out loud or not, they’d been dancing around the sexual issue for two years. She was an amazing opponent, sharp and intelligent, ruthless, with a single line of focus that he’d seen in only one other person.
Himself.
Beyond that, they were polar opposites, she with her love of order and rules, he with his utter disdain of both. And yet somehow they’d made an incredible pair, and during their two years of mutual city planning, they’d improved the quality of life in Blue Eagle and its growth rate more than any other team in the city’s history. It was something to be proud of, and he was.
But he’d moved into the council now, and they no longer worked side by side. In fact, she worked for him, a phenomenon he was quite certain drove her crazy.
And made him grin some more.
He pulled back into the parking lot and looked at Town Hall. The building had been built in 1890 and was, in fact, an historical monument. It had once been an icehouse, a storage unit in the days before refrigeration. Truckloads of ice had been shipped from here to San Francisco on demand. It’d been renovated three times since, and now white lights were strung across the front, anchored by groups of holly and pine branches, backlit by the bulbs. In front, on either side of the walkway, were small Christmas trees, decorated earlier in the week by the local elementary school children.
At the sight, some of Matt’s spirit picked back up. So he was in a tux. So he’d have to drink champagne instead of beer. So he was going to miss time with his brother watching the game. Things were pretty darn good for him, and he was thankful. He’d go inside, smile and make merry, and maybe even figure out who was wreaking all the havoc for the town staff members. Not that Matt condoned the ex-mayor’s crime of seducing minors, but whoever had exposed Tom, as well as lodged the accusations against the two councilmen, had done so publicly for a reason.
Someone was having a grand old time screwing with the town council.
Turning off his engine, he reached for the required mask. It was black, with an elastic string to go around the back of his head so he wouldn’t have to hold it up to his face all night. Putting it on, he stepped out of the car and into the falling snow. Inside, the decorations were overly festive, bordering on gaudy, but that might have been due more to the badly played renditi
on of “Jingle Bells” coming from the high school band.
The room was already filled with staffers dressed to the hilt in their Christmas finery, all wearing masks, some elaborate, some looking like Tonto.
Mostly guys looking like Tonto.
Matt thought he saw Ed and Adam from his old team in planning. Couldn’t miss Ed’s carrottop or Adam’s double-fisted drink habit. Plus they both waved, so he waved back, and grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.
“Matty,” murmured a soft feminine voice from behind him. Turning, he came face-to-face with a woman in a tiny, sparkly silver dress and mask. Hannah Pelinski. He’d dated her once and had been put off by her relentless pursuit of a diamond ring. He smiled at her but tried to keep moving, only she started dancing right in front of him, blocking his way.
“Join me,” she coaxed, making sure her breast brushed his chest.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I have to . . .” Do anything rather than see the desperation in your eyes. “Go upstairs for a sec.”
“Well, find me when you come back down.”
He smiled rather than lie, and as quickly as he could, moved across the large room, past the elevators, to the stairwell, which was dark. Having worked in this building for so long, he could find his office blindfolded, so he didn’t flip on any lights as he made his escape. On the second-floor landing, he turned left.
Halfway down the hall, he heard a soft thud. So he wasn’t the only lurker tonight. He caught a flash up ahead, coming from the conference room, where there was a long wall of file cabinets, filled with years and years of information on everything from town council meetings to amendments to the city plan. Matt had no idea what, or if anything, someone would want from those files after hours, but as things had gotten crazy lately, he intended to find out.
He peeked into the dark room, smelling the pine of the small Christmas tree in the corner. The windows let in a glow from the string of lights on the outside eaves. He could make out the outline of a woman, sitting in the window well on the far side of the room. Knees up, her arms around them, she stared out into the night. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, tendrils escaping along her neck. Her shoulders and arms were bared by her dress.
She didn’t have on a mask, but even if she had, he’d have known it was Cami by the set of her narrow shoulders, as if they carried the weight of the world on them.
His little snooper had left a few file drawers open, some files sticking up. He was dying to know what had drawn her, what she was looking for, but felt even more curious about what was making her look so . . . sad.
She didn’t look at him as he stepped into the room. “You’re late,” she said softly.
Was he? He glanced down at his watch. A quarter to eight. No, he wasn’t late at all.
Which meant she was talking to someone else.
“Oh, Ned,” she whispered, and hugged her knees tighter. “I need to talk to you, too.”
Ned. Ned?
Still looking out the window, Cami stood. “I want to understand something.”
Her profile was tight, grim. Unhappy. And suddenly he wanted to see her happy, even lost in laughter. Better yet, lost in passion, with him. He wanted her in his arms, his name on her lips.
“You like me, right?” she whispered.
Apparently more than he’d thought. “Yes.”
“Then why don’t you ever kiss me?”
Matt blinked. That hadn’t been what he’d expected, though, in truth, he didn’t know what he had expected. He knew she was talking to Ned, not to him, but he still stepped closer, so close that he could have bent his head and put his mouth to the nape of her neck. Her scent came to him, soft and lovely and incredibly sexy.
So sexy.
Her skin seemed to glow in the pale light. She tended to dress conservatively, and he supposed the cut of her black velvet dress was modest enough, but it molded and hugged her body, dipping both in the front and the back in a clean, sensual line.
“Ned?”
Christ, he wanted her to stop saying some other man’s name. He wanted to hear his name.
She sighed then, a lost sound, a sorrowful sound, and unable to take it, he wrapped his fingers around her arm and turned her to face him. Before she could decipher the fact that he had a good four inches on Ned, he hauled her up against him and did as she’d asked. He kissed her.
3
Cami sank immediately into the kiss. She couldn’t see a thing in the dark room, but she didn’t need to. Ned’s mouth was firm yet warm, and tasted yummy. Then his tongue touched hers, and a bolt of desire zinged her from her roots to her toes, hitting all the good spots in the middle.
Oh, did he know how to kiss. Thankfully. She’d been worried because not once had he swept her up in his arms like this, against his body, inhaling her as if she was the greatest thing since sliced bread, and she loved it. Loved also the obvious hunger and passion he had bottled up.
For her.
Not to mention the delicious hardness of his chest, his belly, his thighs . . . in between. God. She hadn’t been kissed like this since . . . she couldn’t remember.
It didn’t matter, she was being kissed now, and she couldn’t believe how amazing it felt. Her bones melted, along with her reservations about Ned being the right one for her, and she ran her hands up his chest, winding her arms around his neck to pull his head even closer to hers.
His hands moved, too, at first grazing up and down her back in a seductive motion that drew her in even closer, molding her body to his. Up and down, further each time, over the skin bared by her dress, until he cupped her bottom. The intimate touch shocked her, and aroused her beyond belief. He squeezed, the thin material of her dress and her new thong the only things separating his hand from her flesh. A brave departure for her, but she’d needed something drastic tonight, had needed to try something different. She’d loved the way she looked when she’d caught her reflection in the mirror. Sophisticated and glamorous—so unlike her usual self.
Now she was glad she’d dared, though his fingers on her, with so little barrier, felt shocking. One hand left her bottom, gliding back up her body to sink into her hair, dislodging a few carefully placed pins as he palmed her head, holding her in place while he decimated her with a kiss so deep and sensually charged, she could only whimper and let him take her where he would.
“Mmm,” rumbled from deep in his throat, the hand still on her bottom urging her closer, rocking the softest part of her to the hardest part of him. Oh, God, this felt good, so good. If she let herself think, she might have admitted it was difficult to reconcile this deep, wet, hot, shocking erotic connection with the mild-mannered Ned, the one who was so nice and kind he often let people walk all over him rather than face a disagreement or handle a contradiction.
But she didn’t think, because the rough growl that reverberated from deep in his throat made her weak. So did his sure and talented mouth, his steady and knowledgeable hands, both of which were driving her crazy. So did his mouth as it made its way to her jaw to nibble her throat. In fact, she had to clutch at him to remain standing. “You feel good.”
In an odd reaction, he went completely still for a beat, then pulled back and stared down at her, the mask covering the upper part of his face but not the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he breathed erratically.
That’s when it hit her. Ned wasn’t this tall. Or broad. Or built.
Then she caught the glittering of his eyes.
Not dark brown, but . . . steely, stormy gray.
Oh, my God.
Not Ned. Not Ned, but—Reaching up, way up, she grabbed his mask. She wasn’t tall enough to yank it off over his head, so she pulled it down and stared into those glittering eyes. “You.”
“Me,” Matt agreed utterly without repentance or apology.
Stepping back in horrified, humiliated shock, she came up against the window just as his mask, caught by its elastic string, slapped him in the chin.
Without
a word, he ripped the thing off and stepped toward her.
“Don’t,” she choked out, her every nerve ending still pulsing with hopeful pleasure. She lifted a hand to hold him off, but he just took her fingers in his and came up against her, trapping her between the window and his body.
The window was icy cold. But not Matt. Nope, his hard body radiated heat and strength as he cupped her jaw until she was looking him right in the eyes. “Well, that took me by surprise,” he murmured.
“What are you talking about? You knew exactly who you were kissing!”
“Yeah, but I didn’t expect to be leveled flat by it.”
“You expect me to believe that you were laid flat? You, the man who’s kissed every single woman in a hundred-mile radius?” God, she was a fool. She’d known better, a small part of her had known from the moment he’d touched his mouth to hers—Ned would never have taken her like that, kissing hard and deep and unapologetically fierce—but her body had surged with such heat and need, and a desire so strong, she was still shaking from it.
And yet, the pathetic truth was, Matt had just been playing with her. It burned, she could admit, and burned deeply. All her life, she’d been the outcast. She’d been a chunky, nonathletic, clumsy kid in a house full of lean, coordinated, beautiful people. She hadn’t improved much as a teenager, and though her frenetic exercise and dieting had finally worked, leaving her much fitter now, the stigma had never left her. Inside, she was still the left-out, laughed-at, fat kid, the girl who was the object of a wager among the boys of the varsity basketball team—the winner was to be the first boy who could get a pair of her “granny panties” to hang as a prize in their locker room—the woman who even now men tended to keep their distance from.
The remembered humiliation still burned.
She heard the footsteps coming and turned toward the doorway just as another man appeared, also in a tux. Mask in hand.
