“We need to talk.”
Emma nodded. “But later. Mr. Grider has been so kind to us, it would be rude to excuse ourselves now. After dinner.”
He nodded and she took a sip, restraining herself from crinkling her nose at the strength of the whiskey. “Tell us about yourself, Mr. Grider.”
“Honey, call me Walt,” the older man said, a twinkle in his eye. “I do love having a pretty woman to dine with me. I’m tempted to throw this one out in the snow and keep you for myself, but I’m thinkin’ I’d have a fight on my hands.”
Erik nodded. “That you would.”
“I gather you’re not originally from Colorado?” Emma asked, settling in a gorgeous chair straight out of Architectural Digest.
“Heard my Georgia accent, huh?” Walt teased, before launching into the tale of a Southern boy falling in love with the mountains.
Hours later after a dinner that Emma could only describe as one of the best of her life, they retired to the great room to enjoy after-dinner drinks. After another hour of chitchat, Erik looked at Emma. “Mr. Grider—Walt—I hope you won’t mind if I steal Emma away for a moment?”
The older man stroked his mustache. “Can’t say I haven’t enjoyed the company, but I’m an old man who firmly embraces early to bed, early to rise. I’ll say good-night now.”
Emma and Erik both said their good-nights, reiterating their gratitude for his hospitality.
After Walt had left, Erik turned to her. “Have I done something wrong?”
She shook her head. “No. I suppose I’m a little freaked out by...everything.”
“Do you regret what happened?”
Emma wanted to pace. She felt so unsettled, like a caged leopard. She forced herself to sit. “I said I wouldn’t and I mean that. I’m merely having some issues reintegrating myself in reality.”
He came to her and brushed a hand across her jaw. “I don’t want you to think I’ll be any different than I was before.”
Her heart leaped at his touch and then sank at his words. His declaration was a needle popping her balloon of possibility. She’d hoped he would want to see her again. That they might not be a one-night thing. But rather something more. “I know.”
Her voice wobbled. Damn it.
“Hey,” he said, lifting her chin. “I want you to be happy.”
Unshed tears clogged her throat.
She pressed her fingernails into the palm of her hand and willed herself not to cry. This was why he’d had reservations about making love to her in the first place. He had asked if she could handle it. So no tears. No regrets.
“Me, too,” she managed to say.
“Then why do you sound not okay? I’m worried that we ruined everything.”
Emma looked up. “How is anything ruined? I know the score. I get it.”
Erik studied her. “What do you get?”
“That it’s over. I told you I could do this and I am. It’s just—” she swallowed and averted her gaze from his brilliant blue eyes “—harder than I thought.”
He tugged her to her feet. “Emma, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about me being an idiot. I knew the way I felt about you would make this difficult. I should have been able to sleep with you and it not be a big deal, but—”
His kiss cut her off.
And it was a sweet, sweet kiss. One hand rose to cup her face, the other gripped her waist, bringing her fully against him. After a few seconds, he drew back and studied her. “I told you that I liked dessert first, remember?”
Emma squinted at him. “Dessert?”
“What we had back at the cabin was like having dessert first, you know? But I want the main course...and the appetizer—” he dropped his head and nuzzled her neck “—and the salad.”
“You mean...you want to see me again?” she asked, hope gathering inside her.
Please say yes. Please.
He lifted his head. “Only if you want the same.”
* * *
EMMA TILTED HER face up, her lips beckoning, her green eyes shimmering with emotion. “I want that more than anything.”
He smiled and dropped another kiss on her lips.
Pulling back, she looked up at him. “But I didn’t think you wanted anything more. You were so cold this morning.”
Erik didn’t know what she was talking about. “Cold? Uh, yeah. We both were.”
“No, not physically,” she said, regarding him with a puzzled look. “Just the way you acted.”
“Like how?”
“Go wash up. Here’s the sheets. Call your insurance company.” She crossed her arms over herself. “I felt like you were a different person.”
“Well, I couldn’t stay naked, whispering sweet words in your ear, babe. There was a man holding a gun on us and I was in my underwear. Makes a man feel a bit shaky.”
“It wasn’t me?”
“Hell no. I felt a bit out of sorts. Just a natural reaction to our situation. But you? You I haven’t stopped wanting since we first got into the car yesterday.”
“I feel so stupid. I assumed you were done with me, and I didn’t want to press you. Didn’t want to be that girl who changed the rules.”
He pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay. We’re both new to this thing between us. I’m relieved you want more than last night with me.”
She looked up at him, a tear managing to escape. In her eyes he could see more than possibility. In her eyes he saw a future.
Emma Rose Brent hadn’t just grown up.
She’d grown up to be the perfect woman for him.
Erik kissed her and then slapped her behind. “Now, about our sleeping arrangements...are you up for, say, an appetizer?”
Emma nodded, a devilish twinkle in her eye. She opened her mouth, but he knew what she was going to say and pressed a finger against her lips.
“Don’t even joke about main courses and bringing the beef.” He laughed, wrapping her in his arms.
“How did you know?”
“Because dirty minds think alike,” he said, sweeping her off the ground and into his arms. He headed toward the guest suites. “And that tells me all I need to know.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “What?”
“That you’re the perfect girl to spend Christmas with...you’re the perfect girl to fall in love with.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from A DANGEROUSLY SEXY CHRISTMAS by Stefanie London.
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A Dangerously Sexy Christmas
by Stefanie London
1
PERSONAL SECURITY DETAIL was a lot like babysitting. All Max Ridgeway had to determine was whether the person under his protection would be the model child or the toddler from hell.
“Do you always disregard your personal safety, Miss Lawson?” he asked.
Two catlike eyes glowered at him. But if he was going to protect her, he needed to know if she would throw herself into harm’s way. Or run. Or walk down a dark alley in the middle of the night.
“You say you don’t want my protection. Tell me if I’ve misunderstood y
ou.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head.
She squared her shoulders against his visitor’s chair and displayed what he imagined was her most dazzling smile. Rose Lawson’s eyes were almond-shaped and a most unusual shade of yellow-green. She had thick curling lashes, a heart-shaped face and glossy pouted lips made for sin. The whole sexy package probably turned other men to goo. But her appearance—while thoroughly enjoyable—would not distract him.
“You’ll have to excuse the mix-up,” she said in a smooth voice that sent a shot of heat through him. Her accent was strange. Definitely American, but the gentle lilt of her words suggested extensive time overseas. London, according to his research. “My father hired you, but he can be a little...overprotective. I won’t be needing your services.”
Her insistence on refusing his protection meant she would be a royal pain in the butt to have as a client. Only she wasn’t the client; her father was. She stood up and raked a hand through her chin-length brown hair, the artfully curled lengths falling back into place as she released them. Her eyes flicked over him, lingering on his face before she checked her phone.
“Sorry to waste your time,” she said in a tone that didn’t sound sorry at all.
The wall clock of his office ticked loudly in the silence. Each second was another he couldn’t have back.
Rose walked toward the door, her heels clicking against the office floor. Skin-tight black jeans accentuated her legs, and a loose top in black silk acted as a canvas to the ornate red, gold and yellow necklace that hung down to her navel. Her file indicated she was a jewelry designer. Perhaps she’d made the necklace herself.
He let her get to the door of his office before stopping her. “I didn’t say you could leave.”
Her shoulders stiffened and she spun to face him. The charming smile slipped and she regarded him coolly. “I wasn’t aware I required your permission.”
She pulled on a heavy black coat. Jewel-studded gold bracelets clinked, making her movements seem musical.
“As of now you’re in my charge.” Max stood, walked over to her and leaned his back against the wall. “Your father hired me to look after you until we can figure out who broke into your store.”
At the mention of her father Rose became wary, distant. “Probably a bunch of kids. I work in a jewelry store. It’s not hard to believe it was a crime of opportunity. Besides, it’s not even my store. The owner doesn’t seem to think she needs protection, so why should I?”
“Your father obviously thinks you need it.” Max tossed the comment out to see what reaction he’d get.
“He doesn’t know what’s best for me.” She gritted her teeth. “Besides, this happened two whole days ago. If someone was after me, wouldn’t they have done something about it by now?”
“Not necessarily. And as for your ‘kids’ theory, the store was broken into, but the perp didn’t take anything.” He cocked his brow. “That doesn’t sound much like a crime of opportunity to me.”
“All the jewelry is locked in a safe, as are the stones in the workshop.” She tilted up her face to his, exasperation clear in her eyes. “They’re high-grade safes, not something that can be pried open with a crowbar. And I lock the safes whenever I close up. We also have a security system, cameras and a duress button.”
Max couldn’t help but notice the way the colored beads around her neck sparkled like fire...the same fire that lit up her eyes. She was feisty, all right. He’d have his hands full keeping her safe, especially if her father’s suspicions turned out to be true.
“The security system was disarmed and the cameras turned off. And yet they left without touching the safe or stealing anything. You don’t find that strange?”
“No, I don’t. Perhaps they were interrupted, or it was just a random act of vandalism.” She stepped toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”
If it had been the act of a bunch of kids trying to vandalize the neighborhood, then why had they stopped at her store in particular? A store with a high degree of security. Why not bust up a few windows of the shops next door? Rose Lawson was definitely in danger. Max pressed a palm to the door frame next to her head, blocking her exit.
“We haven’t finished.”
Her cheeks flushed deep pink, making her fair skin seem even lighter and her yellow-green eyes even more vivid. “Who do you think you are?”
“I’m the guy who’s going to protect you, Rose.” For some reason his heart was beating a little too fast, his blood pumping a little too hard. “And I take that seriously.”
“Look,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I don’t need anyone to protect me, least of all some beefed-up GI Joe wannabe.”
Ouch. The lady had an acid tongue. That shouldn’t have surprised him. Women as beautiful as she was often had the world at their feet and they didn’t appreciate it one bit. He resisted the urge to tell her just how wrong her assessment of him was, how totally off base and ignorant and narrow-minded—
“Hit a nerve, did I?” She smirked, the pale pink shine of her lip gloss catching the light.
“Sticks and stones.” Max leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers. “I’ve endured a lot worse in my life. So you can throw those petty little insults around as much as you like, because they won’t change the fact that from now on I’m going to be your shadow.”
In the silence that followed, the raggedness of her breath amplified. Her fingers danced at the edge of her necklace, tracing the beads and counting them as if it were a rosary.
“Now,” he said, stepping back and dropping his arm. “I’m taking you home.”
“The hell you are.” Rose glared up at him. “I don’t want a bodyguard, or whatever you’re called.”
“Security consultant,” Max corrected, inwardly laughing as she rolled her eyes.
“I don’t need one of those, either. I’m fine. It was just a one-off incident.” She pushed a stray tendril of hair from her face.
“I’ll see you home anyway, just to be sure.”
He’d been hired to protect Rose, and he’d do just that. Max’s gig with Cobalt & Dane Security might not be the career he’d dreamed of as a young lad in Australia, but the job had come when he’d needed it most. It was all he had. His old career was in tatters, his fiancée was a distant memory and his best friend...
Max swallowed. He would succeed at this, and if that meant following Rose home against her wishes, then so be it.
“Whatever.” Rose fished around in her bag and pulled out her car keys. “If you want to waste your time, go right ahead.”
She marched out of his office and headed straight past the reception desk to the elevators without waiting to see if he would follow. Jabbing a finger at the button, she tapped one high-heeled foot while she waited.
Max stood behind her, close enough to keep an eye on her but not so close as to encourage her to hurl any more insults at him.
The elevator arrived and Rose stepped inside, head bowed as she tapped at her phone, ignoring him. In the confined space, he could smell her perfume, something floral and expensive. It was probably some exclusive crap made of unicorn tears. She leaned against the elevator wall and crossed one slim, shapely leg over the other.
You’re being paid to look after her, remember? Ogling her legs is not in the job description.
Swallowing, he studied the illuminated numbers at the top of the elevator door as they descended. A soft ping signaled their arrival and Rose strode past him, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. Max could have picked her car out even without the telltale flashing lights when she hit the remote button.
The shiny, lipstick-red vehicle stood out among the sensible fleet of black and gray ex-NYPD sedans that belonged to the security company and its employees. Condensation billowed as their breath connected with the col
d December air.
He got into his own car, a perfectly forgettable gunmetal gray Ford Crown Victoria. As she peeled out of her parking space, he cranked up the heat and followed.
The traffic was as thick as soup, but Rose’s bright car was easy to track even as she weaved from lane to lane, no doubt to irritate him. New York driving was something else. If it wasn’t for the fact that his job often required him to travel all over the state, he wouldn’t have bothered with a car. Driving in New York was kind of like trying to befriend a criminal...pointless and risky. The incessant honking of the taxis—or cabs as they liked to call them here—sounded over the top of his music, causing his shoulders to bunch around his neck.
Some days he really missed Australia, but he tamped down the useless sentimentality and the inevitable torment that followed when he thought of home.
Eventually they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and shortly after she pulled up outside a string of town houses. His car rolled to a stop behind hers. The street was lined with trees, their bare branches decorated with colored fairy lights. The area wasn’t in the least bit flashy or what he’d expected from a princess. The buildings looked clean, yet modest. Several had Christmas wreaths on the front doors.
Snow crunched beneath his boots as he stepped out of his car and followed her up the path to the front door. He folded his arms across his chest, bracing himself against the chill.
As Rose fished in her bag for her house keys, a warning tingled his senses. A deep intuition that had been honed over years of being a cop. The crisp air blew around him, but there was something else. A distant noise that caught his attention for a fleeting moment and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
“Wait.” He put a hand over hers as she was about to push her key into the lock.
He turned, assessing the area in front of the house. At first nothing seemed out of place, but then he noticed it—a cigarette butt by her door.
Max stepped in front of her and tested the front door. Locked. He leaned out and checked the window next to the door. Also locked.
A Wrong Bed Christmas: IgnitedWhere There's Smoke Page 17
