‘Are you doubting my ability to wine and dine you, Ms Sanderson?’
Smiling, she threaded an arm through his. ‘Not at all, Mr Cooper. Bring it on.’
Perfect, she thought as she eased back in her chair. The restaurant, the meal and the company. He’d chosen atmosphere over elegance – probably because the place had more Christmas decorations than Santa’s grotto – and good food over fancy. She had, she was forced to admit, enjoyed every minute of it.
Would the evening end here, though?
The thought was enough to have her reaching for her wine. The next step felt like a huge one. Because they worked together? Or because she sensed this could be something more? Something she wasn’t ready for.
Stop thinking. Enjoy the moment.
Setting the wine glass back, she allowed herself a few moments to simply gaze at him. ‘I forgot to ask. How did your interviews go? Have you got yourself a new PA?’
‘Ah.’ He placed the dessert menu he’d been scrutinising back on the table. ‘I might just have hired Hilda on a permanent basis.’
‘Hilda?’ she croaked. ‘The battleaxe who makes trying to get a meeting with you harder than one with the Queen, George Clooney and the Pope? All in the same room.’
Owen hooted with laughter. ‘Does she really? Maybe I’ve just hired the perfect PA.’
Gabby was still in shock. ‘You’re seriously going to hire the woman you’ve done nothing but gripe about since she arrived?’
He gave her a charmingly sheepish smile. ‘Okay, I may have been a little hasty in my judgement. I believe she can mellow though, with the right encouragement.’
‘Were the other three that bad?’
‘Not at all. Any of them would have been great. But Hilda …’ He sighed, his expression one of bemusement as if he too couldn’t believe what he’d just done. ‘I think she needed the job more than any of them.’
There it was, another unwanted tug on her heart. ‘And you called me soft. You’re the biggest softie of them all.’
‘Oh no, no way. Absolutely not.’ He gave his head a vehement shake. ‘Better the devil you know and all that. The others could turn out to be right nutters. At least with Hilda I’m aware of her nut quotient.’
She fought not to laugh. ‘Then all I can say is good luck.’ Her gaze flicked down to the menu he’d abandoned, and then up to his. ‘Do you want dessert?’
‘That depends.’ His eyes met and held hers. ‘Is there an alternative plan?’
‘You could come back to my place for a coffee.’
Chapter Five
Owen tried to keep his expression to one of dignified pleasure, rather than the abso-bloody-lutely, try and stop me, he felt inside. But he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.
‘Is that an abstract, you could come back, or an invitation?’
She rolled her eyes. He thought he could get lost in those deep brown pools, if she ever allowed him close enough. ‘I believe it’s an invitation. For coffee.’
She emphasised the last two words, clearly able to read his X-rated thoughts. Owen was used to having doors slammed in his face though, he was a salesman, after all. He also had a track record of easing them open again. ‘Then let’s get out of here.’ He settled the bill quickly, reminding her it was his turn when she reached for her purse. Her independence both impressed and irritated him in equal measures.
In the car she chatted away about this and that; the office Christmas party, the crazy cost of Christmas trees. How she wanted to see the latest Thor film because she loved Chris Hemsworth. Beyond the occasional ummm, he wasn’t required to contribute, which was just as well because his mind was fully occupied wondering what she was wearing beneath the sexy red dress. If it was red underwear, he was toast.
‘Do you agree?’
Damn. He shot her a sideways glance and didn’t need to be a mind reader to guess what she was thinking. Well, he’d soon prove her wrong. She’d last been talking about that Hemsworth guy, hadn’t she? ‘Absolutely. Height, muscles, blond hair. What’s not to like about him? I’d totally fancy him if I didn’t prefer curves. And dark hair.’
She bit into her lip, clearing trying not to laugh. ‘Actually, I’d moved on from Thor. I was talking about the new guy on the reception desk. And how hot he was.’ She gave him a sly smile. ‘Which you clearly agree with.’
She might have rumbled him but Owen had never been one to back down. ‘As I said, I’d totally fancy him if I didn’t already have this thing for an incredibly sexy brunette who looks amazing in red.’
Her laughter filled the car. ‘You’re slick, I’ll give you that. Have you ever been left speechless?’
‘Not so far.’ He smirked over at her. ‘But the night is young.’
After pulling up outside her Victorian terrace he leapt round to the passenger side to help her out, biting back a smile as she frowned at his outstretched hand. ‘I am capable of getting out of a car by myself.’
‘And I’m capable of making my own coffee. Doesn’t mean I won’t appreciate you making one for me.’
She rolled her eyes again, though she didn’t tug her hand away as they walked up the path to her postbox red front door. The woodwork was freshly painted, the flowerbeds beneath the bay window neat and the path remarkably weed free. Two bay trees stood in smart red pots, adding a festive touch he knew was unintended. All were reflections of the woman he was coming to know and like more and more each day; organised, careful, tidy. God knows what she’d think of the rambling old place he’d bought on a whim two years ago, and still hadn’t finished renovating.
‘No Christmas lights?’ he asked as she opened the door.
‘Didn’t seem much point, not with me planning on going away.’
Ah yes. Last time she’d laughed at him, but to his way of thinking this was just another closed door he had to find a way to open. ‘What is this now, our sixth date? Seventh?’ He really had no idea. He could hardly remember a time when he hadn’t been dating her, or wanting to date her.
‘Fifth,’ she murmured as she tugged off her coat and hung it in a neat cupboard under the stairs.
Owen flung his jacket over the bannister. ‘What’s the cut off before we’re allowed to go on holiday together?’
‘Pardon?’
‘When I first suggested tagging along with you on your Christmas jaunt, you used the it’s only our first date argument.’ Because he could see she was backing away from him, he took hold of her hands – wow they were cold – and pressed them to his chest. ‘I was just wondering the number we have to get to when that argument will no longer be valid.’
Her hands fidgeted beneath his. ‘I don’t know. It’s too early. I mean we don’t know if we’re compatible yet. We’re not even dating, not really. Going away together … God, that’s a huge step.’
He could feel her tension; see the panic she was trying to hide. ‘You think we wouldn’t have fun?’
‘I know we’d have fun.’
‘Then what’s stopping you?’
She sighed, jerking her hands away. ‘It’s a crazy idea. We’ve not even slept together yet.’
He laughed softly. ‘I have no problem with remedying that. No problem at all.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘Not everything is a joke.’
Ouch. ‘I know. Equally not every decision you make has to be meticulously thought through. Sometimes you can go with your gut.’ Though from the look on her face, her gut was also telling her holidaying with him was a bad idea. A bloody shame, because he couldn’t imagine anything better than spending ten days, and nights, in her company.
‘That’s not how I work.’
Her back was stiff, her voice tight. If he carried on like this, the evening that had promised so much was in danger of disintegrating. He was too used to getting his own way, he realised. Too used to women who bowed to his wishes.
Exhaling roughly, he cupped her face with his hands. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push.’ He dropped a ligh
t kiss on her lips. ‘Is the coffee still on, or have you had enough of me for tonight?’
How simple it would be to tell him she’d had enough, Gabby thought, and not just for tonight. Her work life would remain uncomplicated, her personal life remain ordered. Her emotions under control.
But he’d awakened something in her, something she wasn’t sure she could neatly package up and put back in the box. These last few weeks she’d felt different; less lonely, less of a marketing machine. Far more of a woman. So if she couldn’t stop it, perhaps she needed to embrace it. This thing between them was hardly going to end up becoming serious; he wasn’t, after all. Perhaps they really could enjoy each other for a while, and remain friends at the end.
‘I can make you a coffee.’ Screwing up her courage, Gabby pressed her body closer to his, feeling the hard muscles of his thighs press against hers. ‘Or we can find something else to do to pass the next few hours.’
She felt his groin pulse. Saw heat flash in his eyes. ‘Hours? You have a healthy opinion of my stamina.’ He dipped his head and ran a trail of hot kisses down her face. ‘For the record, I prefer option two.’
‘Thought you might.’
His arms circled her, one hand skimming down her back before drawing her tighter against him, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her.
‘Shall we continue this somewhere more …’ his eyes drifted over the pokey hallway they were still standing in ‘… more conducive to seduction?’
Laughing, she eased away. ‘Well, if you’re not able to seduce me in a hallway—’
The words died on her lips as his mouth captured hers. No longer flirtatious and gentle, this was a full-blown onslaught to the senses. He devoured her, slipping past her defences, torturing then caressing, teasing then plundering. Before she could take a breath, she was pressed against the wall, her legs lifted to encircle his hips.
‘What were you saying?’
Good God, he had her head spinning. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’ He gave her a smug, purely male, smile. Then lifted her into his arms. ‘Wait, no.’ She wriggled against his hold. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re going to try and carry me up the stairs.’
‘What sort of seduction would this be if I didn’t?’ Manfully he took the first step.
‘There won’t be any seduction if you do your back in.’
She felt, as well as heard, the rumble of his laughter. ‘Such little faith.’
She held her breath as he strode up the stairs, wondering at his strength, because at five foot eight, she was no lightweight. Wondering also why a fiercely independent woman could get such pleasure out of being carried. She could open her own doors, make her own way up the stairs. And yet … she sighed into his neck, resting her head for a moment before breathing him in.
She was so immersed in him she wasn’t aware of him pushing his way into the spare room. ‘Good God, I hope this isn’t your bedroom.’
Her eyes skimmed over the neutral colours, the elegant cream carpet, the carefully chosen oak furniture. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘Where’s the mess? You know, the lotions and potions, hairbrushes, yesterday’s clothes. Lacy underwear on the floor.’ He gazed down at her. ‘Please tell me you have lacy underwear lying around somewhere else.’
How could this man make her laugh and want at the same time? ‘My room is the next one. But the underwear is neatly tidied away in a drawer,’ she added as he pushed the door open. ‘My lotions and potions are in a box in the bathroom and yesterday’s clothes are in the laundry basket.’
‘God, I love a woman who can talk dirty,’ he murmured as he laid her on the bed. ‘Guess I’ll have to find the underwear myself.’ His hand swooped behind her back, drawing down her zip. As he eased the dress off her shoulders, the heat of his gaze sent an answering rush of desire to parts of her body long forgotten.
‘Red lace.’ His voice sounded hoarse. ‘You’re killing me here, Gabby. I feel like the kid with his hand in the candy jar, and every sweet he touches is one of his favourites.’ He cupped her breasts. ‘Sugar dusted pear drops.’ He shook his head. ‘No, strawberry bon bons.’
His touch, the appreciation in his eyes, sent a sharp thrill though her. ‘I’ve never been compared to confectionary before.’
‘No?’ His eyes were focused on her breasts and with a groan he bent to kiss them, his mouth hot against the lace. ‘Nobody’s ever told you how delicious you are?’ He unclasped the bra, his tongue now lapping against her nipple. ‘How sweet you taste?’
She wanted to tell him he was being corny, but his touch was too exquisite, the sensations building too powerful for speech. Instead she clasped his head and pulled it closer, losing herself in the moment, giving in to the desire that throbbed and pulsed through every part of her. When his hands trailed between her thighs, she detonated.
As she slowly came to, she found him standing at the end of the bed, lifting his half-unbuttoned shirt over his head, the muscles of his chest sliding over each other, rippling across his body.
Catching her ogling him he grinned and began to slowly undo his belt before lowering the zip on his jeans, his movements sure and cocky. Then he turned around and tugged the jeans down his hips, wriggling his impeccable backside at her.
She couldn’t help it, she started to giggle. ‘Do I have to pay for this show?’
He turned back, unashamedly naked. ‘Only if you like what you see.’
Her heart let out a giant thump, and lust shot through her. The body of a male stripper, the looks of a male model, the confidence of a Hollywood star. And yet, despite all that, he wasn’t arrogant, because arrogant men didn’t pose like Owen was now, waggling his eyebrows up and down in a comic gesture while puffing out his impressive chest and pumping his biceps.
‘I like what I see,’ she told him honestly, surprising herself as much as him.
The laughter in his eyes died, replaced by a fierce hunger. ‘I like what I see, too,’ he said quietly, easing onto the bed, his body sliding over hers. ‘And what I touch,’ he added, tracing his fingers along the curve of her breast. ‘What I smell.’ He inhaled, kissing her neck. ‘And what I taste.’ His mouth came down on hers, his tongue diving between her lips.
She was mush. Putty in his hands. A puddle on the bed. He played with her body, teasing, delighting, before slipping on a condom and easing inside her. As his thrusts became more forceful, the pace faster, she was swept away on a tidal wave of passion.
Chapter Six
As he rolled, exhausted, onto his back for the second time in the space of an hour, Owen wondered if making love to Gabby hadn’t been a monumental mistake. It was too overpowering, too intense. Too addictive. He couldn’t envisage a time when he wouldn’t want to reach for her, as he’d just done again. When he wouldn’t want to kiss her, to hold her in his arms.
For a man who’d run away from anything serious for the last few years, unwilling to put himself through all the angst and hurt he knew relationships could bring, the thought was terrifying.
Shifting onto his side, he studied her naked body, running his hand along her arm, her breasts, her stomach. The amazing legs, currently entangled with his.
Not because he could, but because he couldn’t not.
‘You’re incredible,’ he told her, loving how flushed her skin looked, how soft her deep brown eyes. Too soon to be serious, he realised, for both of them. ‘The most incredible strawberry bon bon I’ve ever been to bed with.’
She smiled and damn it, something in his chest shifted. ‘And that’s the most … interesting compliment I’ve ever had.’
‘I aim to please.’ Ignoring the fear that hovered, fear he was getting in too fast, too soon, he kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Any chance I can cadge a night’s sleep in this comfy bed of yours, or are you kicking me out now you’ve had your evil way with me?’ Staying was trouble, but by God he wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
She scrunched up her face. ‘That depends. Do you snore?’
; He gaped in mock horror. ‘You think a body like this snores?’
‘Point taken.’ Her eyes, often dark and mysterious, glittered with amusement. ‘Do you hog the duvet?’
‘No need. You and me are all the heat I need.’
She groaned, raising her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Cute or corny, I can’t decide. Probably corny. Last question. Will you be waking me up at some ridiculous hour of the morning, because I’m telling you now, I get grumpy if I have to get up early at the weekend?’
He snuggled closer to her, winding his arm around her waist. ‘If I wake you up, I guarantee I won’t leave you grumpy.’ To stop the smart retort he knew was coming, he kissed her.
When they finally came up for air, she smiled softly at him. ‘You passed. You can stay.’
Ridiculously pleased, he shifted them both so her back was against his chest, her warm and tempting buttocks hugging his crotch. Spooning had never felt so good. ‘Goodnight, gorgeous Gabby.’
Her body rose and fell as she let out a long, sleepy breath. ‘Goodnight …’ She angled her head round. ‘I can’t think of anything beginning with “o”.’
‘Orgasmic Owen?’ When she groaned he tried again. ‘Oh-my-God-you’re awesome, Owen?’
‘That works.’ She settled back against him. ‘Goodnight Oh-my-God-I’m-in-bed-with Owen Cooper.’
For the first time he could remember, Owen fell asleep mid-laugh.
He woke before Gabby, his body clock seemingly stuck on six a.m. Before Stella, he’d slept in till mid-afternoon, no problem, but after moving in with a toddler his body had adjusted to early mornings. And stuck there.
Desire pulsed through him as he stared down at the woman lying next to him; dark locks spread across the pillow, long eyelashes fanning over her closed lids. Her skin a healthy glow against the white cotton duvet. Instead of reaching for her, he swung his legs out of bed and removed himself from temptation. Last night had been beyond his expectations. He didn’t want to ruin things between them now by waking her for what would be his own selfish end.
It left him wondering how to occupy himself though. He could take a shower and hope she was awake when he came out. Make them both some breakfast, though hers might go cold and he didn’t fancy eating alone in someone else’s house. He could just go home, but sneaking out of a woman’s bedroom even after leaving a note had never felt right, though he’d done it once or twice. Wracked with indecision, he reached for the jeans he’d discarded on the floor.
A Little Christmas Charm Page 4
