Holiday Hideout

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  He tore his eyes away from the lights. “Are you okay? Did you spin out?”

  “No, nothing like that.” She grimaced. “Okay, that was a lie. I slipped once or twice, got scared and came back.” She grimaced again. “Okay, that was another lie. I came back because I wanted to.” She nibbled on her lower lip as her gaze took him in from head to toe and then back again, lingering at the bulge just behind his button fly. When her tongue darted out and ran over her bitten lower lip, that bulge twitched. “But then when I got here, I didn’t think waking you up was wise,” she murmured.

  Truer words had never been spoken. “But decorating was?”

  “You like it?” she asked, eyeing the place with unmistakable pride. “No one should celebrate the season without a little cheer, so…um, happy cheer.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her how he felt about the over-the-top, gaudy decorations and the stupid holiday, but she was smiling. A real smile, too, not her work smile or her I-think-you’re-such-a-schmuck smile. It was a genuine show of humor and warmth, directed at him. He actually got dizzy from it. There she stood, looking sweet and adorable and unintentionally sexy as hell. He forced a smile. “It’s…bright.” He angled away to give himself a moment, and that’s when he saw it. She’d turned the plant in the corner into a Christmas tree.

  A Charlie Brown Christmas tree…

  She came up at his side, still smiling. “Isn’t it cute? And look.” She pointed to the fireplace, which had been burdened with both flickering lights and tinsel. “There’s no doubt it’s Christmas morning now, right?”

  Something in his chest tightened. It was Christmas morning and she’d planned to be with her family, celebrating. Instead, she was here with him, stuck. It wasn’t his fault, at least not directly, but he felt like the Grinch who’d stolen her Christmas. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry you’re stuck here.”

  She turned to him. Unlike most of the women he’d had in his life, she came up past his shoulder. If he bent only the slightest bit, he could kiss her.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I’ll get to Quincy soon enough. Do you like the decorations, Jason?”

  Quandary. Did he lie his ass off, or go with honesty? Either was tricky, but if he knew one thing, it was that women didn’t usually really want the truth. “They’re…great.”

  She stared at him for a beat. “You don’t like them.”

  “No, I—”

  “Tell me the truth.”

  He let out a breath. “I came up here to be alone and not celebrate Christmas.”

  She was silent for a single heartbeat, then headed around the couch, scooping up an empty bag. She then moved to the kitchen and began shoving the holly lining the counter back into the bag.

  Jason let out a breath. “Wait. Zoe…”

  She turned to face him. Her face was devoid of makeup, which made her look impossibly young and fresh and…good. Far too good for the likes of him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was wrong to intrude.” She went back to undecorating, her actions uncharacteristically jerky. She was embarrassed, which he hated.

  “Zoe, stop. Just leave it.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and looked around for a diversion. His gaze landed on her opened laptop on the coffee table, and the drawing pad next to it. The pad held the bare-bones sketch of a complex that he knew instantly was her version of the Weller courthouse and library. He hit a key on the laptop and brought it back to life, and yeah, as he’d figured, her drawing program was up, mirroring what she’d sketched. The lines were clean, bold and somehow both modern and classic at the same time. She was good, really good.

  “I was working,” she said. “Last night, before I fell asleep. I’m stuck, to be honest. I can’t figure the rest out.”

  He shook his head and hunted up his laptop, bringing up the design that had been driving him insane for two weeks now. He had the family center—also bare bones—but the library had been eluding him.

  She stared at it, then him. “Do you see what we did?” she whispered.

  “You mean that we each designed the parts of the complex that the other is missing? And that they complement each other in a very spooky way? Yeah.” He shook his head. “Imagine what would happen if we combined forces instead of competing with each other,” he said softly, thinking that at least if they worked together, he wouldn’t get shut out of the promotion.

  She just stared at him. Apparently the idea hadn’t become any more palatable since he’d last brought it up.

  Fine. This was his deal and he could nab it on his own, even if he was beginning to question whether his need for the promotion was any greater than hers. “I need caffeine,” he said, his only defense.

  “I have coffee beans in my bag. There’s a coffee-maker on the counter. Do you want—”

  “Yes,” he said firmly. She moved to the kitchen and within a few minutes the scent of the brewing coffee was filtering through his brain and chasing away some of the morning fog.

  Combine forces.

  They’d certainly combined forces pretty damn fine last night. But to do so in bed was one thing. Work was another entirely.

  Wasn’t it?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JASON FOUND TWO MUGS in the cabinet. Zoe poured. He took a big gulp and sighed as the caffeine hit his system and began to fuel his brain.

  They moved back into the living room and sat by the big picture window, watching as the morning chased away the dawn.

  It was still just lightly snowing, but it was gathering speed now.

  Zoe stared at the lump of white that was her car. “It’s probably not a good idea to go driving in that.”

  It wasn’t really a question, but rather a genuine statement of fact. She didn’t let much show in her voice, but when he looked at her, took in her profile as she gazed outside, he could feel her sadness. That stubborn strand of hair was in her eyes again and he found himself sweeping it aside, stroking her temple, tucking the hair behind her ear and then lingering. “You wanted to be with your family.”

  “It’s Christmas,” she said as if that explained it all. “Don’t you and Mike celebrate with your family?”

  “Mike’s celebrating with his girlfriend this year.”

  “So he said. Won’t you miss him?”

  “We live together and work together. We see each other every day.”

  “I don’t see my family much, just a couple of times a year,” she said. “They’re all so busy.”

  There was a wistful tone to her voice that he fully understood. If he could have his parents back, he’d sure as hell want to spend time with them. “Are you close?”

  “If by close you mean constantly competing and trying to be the best and one-up each other, then yes.” She lifted a shoulder. “We gather in Quincy every year, away from everyone’s jobs and responsibilities. My dad makes eggnog. My mom cooks a feast. My sisters regress to teenagers in spite of having their own families, spending the holiday arguing and trading clothes and hair products. Oh, and we decorate. And we always fight over whose turn it is to put the star on the tree. Somehow it’s never my turn, which is really annoying. That’s what happens when your sisters are a brain surgeon, a rocket scientist and a district attorney, respectively.”

  “Holy shit,” he said.

  “Yeah, it’s a lot to live up to.”

  “You’re an architect,” he pointed out. “What’s that, chopped liver?”

  “Well, becoming one didn’t require a Ph.D or being elected, did it?”

  “You try to prove yourself to them.”

  She sighed. “It’s stupid, really. I don’t know why I try, but the promotion at work…I want it so bad. I want to be someone in their eyes, you know?”

  “I meant what I said before,” he said quietly. “About doing the design together.”

  “You’d really share the credit.” Her voice was doubtful. Not that he could blame her, he wasn’t exactly known for wanting to share anything. “Yea
h. I think we’d make a hell of a team.”

  She looked at him for a long time. “This isn’t like you. You want that promotion, too.”

  He did. And it would fix everything for him. The extra money would help him get out of debt, keep his brother out of trouble—and keep his parents’ house out of the hands of the bank. And yet…

  His parents’ house had only been a home because of the love they’d filled it with. What was the point of keeping it if he spent all his time at work? And if it came at the expense of Zoe’s happiness, would it be worth it?

  “What would Steele think?” she asked. “You know he’s all about pitting us against each other to keep the sense of competition ramped up.”

  “Maybe it’s time to shake up his expectations,” he said.

  She frowned and sipped her coffee. “I used to try to live up to expectations. Now I’m just trying to own who and what I am.”

  He smiled. “And who and what are you?”

  “A sister, a daughter, a friend.” She smiled back. “A really great architect, and…”

  “And?”

  She turned then and met his gaze, her own green eyes unusually soft and revealing. “Last night, for a little while at least, I was a lover.”

  “Yeah,” he said, voice going low at the memory. “And trust me when I say this, Zoe. You’re amazing at everything you do. And I mean everything.”

  “Except decorating.”

  He grimaced, and set down first his coffee and then hers. “It’s not you,” he said.

  “Oh, God. Okay, wait,” she said. “Let me brace myself for the it’s-not-you-it’s-me speech.” She shifted a bit and then nodded. “Okay, ready. Let me have it.”

  “It really isn’t you. I haven’t celebrated the holidays since my parents died the week before Christmas ten years ago.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  AT JASON’S WORDS, ZOE’S heart caught in her throat. “Jason, God. I…I had no idea they were gone. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s been a long time.” He lifted his head to meet her eyes. “They died in a car accident when a drunk driver hit them head-on.”

  Zoe’s breath left her in a whoosh at the shock. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how he and Mike had suffered. “How old were you?”

  “Twenty. Mike was fifteen.” He shrugged as if his young age had been of no consequence. Devastation was devastation. “Ever since then, I’ve done my best to be gone or too busy to bother with Christmas. Mike does the opposite. He goes overboard. Crazy overboard.”

  Zoe winced and eyed the decorations. “Like putting up all sorts of festive stuff?”

  “Last year he rented a snow machine and blasted the entire front yard of our house. Six inches. We had every kid for miles out there having snowball fights.”

  Her gut squeezed. “And you hated it?”

  “No.” He shook his head, his eyes back on the view out the window, as if he was seeing another time, another place. “I just missed having my parents there. It’s always been easier to just not celebrate.”

  There was a lump in her throat that she couldn’t swallow. “You have no other family?”

  “No. It’s just me and Mike.” He shrugged. “And actually, living with Mike is like living with an entire frat house, so it’s not as if we’ve been alone.”

  “You’re alone this weekend,” she said softly.

  “Not anymore.”

  “No.” She put her hand over his. It was the first time since last night that she’d touched him. She wasn’t sure how he would take it. He could be difficult to read, especially when he had his game face on. But right now his eyes were warm and open, and he entwined his fingers in hers. His other hand slid to the nape of her neck and drew her closer, then closer still, so that they were sharing air. “So are we going to do this?” he asked. “Cocreate the design?”

  She waited for the nerves to hit but they didn’t. The only thing that did hit her was a certainty that she could trust him, and that combining forces was a great idea. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

  His smile was slow and sexy. Everything he did was slow and sexy, including, she discovered, watching him work.

  They did just that for several hours, stopping to eat, then getting back to it, working until their two separate ideas had become one project. One really great project.

  “What now?” she asked as the light of the day was waning. “Shovel my car out? Undecorate the rest of the cabin? Scrounge for food?”

  “None of the above. There’s something else I’ve been wanting to do all day,” he said, his lips ghosting hers with each word. And then there were no more words because he was pulling her into his lap and kissing her, hot and deep. She would have happily stayed there, snuggled up against him, except her cell phone began buzzing from the depths of her purse.

  And from somewhere in the cabin came the sound of another cell phone going off, Jason’s. The sound reminded her that this wasn’t the real world. The real world was her family, who were probably still hoping the storm had abated enough for her to get to them. The real world was a place where she and Jason didn’t like each other all that much.

  And that real world was calling.

  VERY AWARE OF ZOE IN the kitchen talking softly on the phone to what sounded like her mother, Jason went hunting for his own cell phone.

  He’d gotten a call from Mike, which he returned.

  “Merry Christmas,” Mike said. “I got you something that you had no idea you needed but is perfect for you—one tall, gorgeous redhead. You’re welcome.”

  “I ought to kill you, not thank you,” Jason said, looking over his shoulder to make sure Zoe couldn’t hear him. “But it’ll have to wait.”

  Mike paused then laughed in disbelief. “She’s still there? Man, you’re better than I thought.”

  “It’s a snowstorm, you dumbass. Because of you, she’s stuck here with me instead of being with her family.”

  “Huh,” Mike said.

  “Huh what?”

  “You’re emotionally involved.”

  “What?” Jason shook his head. “When have I ever been emotionally involved?”

  “You just said she was stuck with you instead of being with her family, which means you’ve had at least one conversation, and a fairly deep conversation at that. And you mentioned her family. You’re emotionally involved.”

  Shit, Jason thought. He was. He was completely and utterly emotionally involved.

  “Before you hang up on me,” Mike said, the good humor gone from his voice. “We got another letter about the house from the bank. Man, we have to let it go, it’s killing you trying to keep it.”

  He sighed. “Merry Christmas, Mike.”

  Jason hung up, his anger and annoyance at his brother’s meddling, nosy, manipulative ways drained. He no longer was certain of his own motivations for anything. Now that he’d realized he had feelings for Zoe, real feelings, how could he compete with her for the promotion, when she wanted it as badly as he did? Needed it just as much? But if he didn’t get the promotion and the raise, how could he keep up with their debt, stave off the bank’s foreclosure for one more month?

  Tired of himself, he powered the phone off and tossed it aside, turning to face Zoe as she came back into the living room.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Other than my brother owes you big-time?” He smiled, feeling surprisingly okay. “Yeah. Everything’s good. You?”

  “My mother’s upset with me for missing the driving window to get up there. She says that without me, my older sisters are turning on each other instead of ganging up on me.” She smiled. “And my dad has already locked himself in the den with the remote. Estrogen overload.”

  “I’m sorry you’re missing it.”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay.” She paused. “I also checked my messages. I just got an offer from an L.A. architectural firm. Same position as where I’m at now with Steele, but there’re better opportunities for me there.” />
  He went still. “You’re moving?”

  “Maybe. If I don’t get the promotion.”

  He tried to imagine what it would be like at Steele without her, but couldn’t. He tried to imagine his life without her, but couldn’t.

  “Jason—”

  He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly they met in the middle of the room and were kissing hard, bodies smashed up against each other.

  “I still don’t know what this is,” she said when they broke apart to breathe.

  Jason knew what this was. Lust, pure and simple.

  Zoe’s hands fisted in his shirt, holding him close, as if she wanted to make sure he couldn’t escape. “Yesterday I said I didn’t like you,” she said. “I didn’t mean it. I was mad and out of my comfort zone. And then after we…”

  When she trailed off, he lifted a brow, purposely not helping her out, enjoying the blush that crossed her cheeks.

  “After we had sex,” she finished unsteadily, “I planned to just forget the whole thing.”

  He let out a low laugh, and she seemed to relax a little, smiling ruefully. “Yeah, I might as well have tried to forget my own name.” She shook her head. “Being with you was…”

  “Pretty damn amazing.”

  “Yes.” She sighed with remembered pleasure, her eyes glazing over a little. “You made me feel pretty. Sexy. Wanted. And it’d been a long time since I’d felt that way with a guy.”

  It was the same for him, he realized. He’d nearly forgotten what it was like to have his heart skip a beat when a woman, the right woman, smiled at him. Or how his stomach could tighten at just the sight of her. And how the way she looked at him never failed to send lust and hunger and need surging and colliding through him. “You make me feel things, too, Zoe. More than I’d counted on.”

  She laughed and backed away, turning from him. “Let me guess—annoyed and frustrated, right?”

  His eyes were on her sweet ass as she bent to shut the laptop. “Actually, my feelings are more base than that.”