A Dangerously Sexy Christmas

by Stefanie London

  “That would be me,” she said, pride filling her chest. “I have a small space here to showcase my work.”

  “These earrings are magnificent.” The woman tapped on the display case with a shiny red nail. “Can I have a closer look?”

  “Of course.” Rose pulled the key from the retractable cord clipped to her belt and unlocked the cabinet.

  Carefully pulling the earrings from her display, she placed them on a black velvet viewing tray. The stones glinted under the lights, and a thrill ran through her when the customer made a delighted ooh. This was what she hoped for every time she sat at her workbench.

  “The center stones are malachite, and the surrounding stones are a mixture of pearl and crystal.” She smiled. “All the designs are handmade in limited quantities.”

  “I love the beautiful green color.” The customer turned the earring so it caught the light.

  From the corner of Rose’s eye, a shadow passed by the window. A second later the front door opened and a large figure entered the shop. Broad shoulders seemed even bigger inside a long dark coat. Faded jeans were tucked into heavy black boots, the denim clinging to muscular thighs.

  Max. He must have relieved his replacement.

  He hovered at the front of the shop, keeping his distance, though his eyes never left her. Heart galloping, she turned back to the customer with a smile she knew was too bright.

  “These earrings are part of a set. There’s a matching necklace.” She pointed through the glass. “But I can make custom sets, as well. Maybe a shorter chain?”

  The customer held the earring up to her ear, bending forward to look in the mirror. “Actually, I want to wear these with a high-necked gown, and a short chain would work better.”

  “I can certainly help you out with that.”

  A frisson of excitement ran through her. The customer had money to burn—if the designer shoes and handbag were anything to go on—and she knew most businesses grew through word of mouth. A couple of sales to women who’d wear her jewelry at charity or industry events, and she might have enough buzz to get herself featured in a magazine.

  “Wonderful. I’ll take the earrings now. Can we set up a time to talk about the necklace design? I’m afraid I have to rush off.”

  Rose nodded and took down the details of her customer, handing over one of the store’s cards with her name and contact information on it. Once the customer had left, Max wandered over.

  “I take it that was one of your works of art.”

  “It was.” Rose beamed. “And she’s commissioning a matching necklace.”

  “Well done.” He squeezed her shoulder and Rose’s pulse raced.

  She knew it was pathetic that two small words of praise caused such a strong reaction in her, but dammit, she needed a little reassurance right now. And it somehow meant more coming from Max.

  He withdrew his hand and leaned against the shop’s glass counter. All the dark fabric he wore made him seem even more imposing, more powerful and ever so slightly dangerous. Her body throbbed with the reminder that they’d left a lot unfinished last night. The idea of him cradling her in the bathtub, his hands roaming her body beneath the soapy water, made her body flare like a struck match.

  If only that damn phone call hadn’t interrupted them. If only there weren’t people chasing her for something she didn’t have.

  “You didn’t have to meet me here. I thought we were going back to the apartment,” she said, walking to the front of the shop and hanging up the closed sign.

  “We’re going to dinner first.” He looked around. “And I was hoping to catch your boss before we go. Is she still here?”

  “Sure. She’s in the back.” Rose motioned for him to follow her. “This way.”

  Though the shop appeared small from the front, the space included a tiny kitchenette-style staff room and a larger workroom. A long wooden counter ran the length of the room, with mounted magnifying glasses, clamps and tools dotting the surface. A kiln took up one corner and a large supply cupboard filled the wall on the other side of the room.

  Color fanned out everywhere, from the inspiration pin boards, to the trays of rainbow beads and gems. Bottles of acrylic paint in every imaginable hue lined one shelf above the workbench, and a set of enormous chandelier earrings hung from a flat board sitting atop an easel.

  The sound of metal hitting metal filled the room. Lola, the owner of the boutique, hadn’t even noticed them enter. She was hunched over a dapping block, hitting the back of the punch with a small hammer in short bursts, then she changed the angle of the punch and hit it again.

  The older woman paused, pulling a now perfectly curved copper disc from the block to inspect it.

  “Lola?” Rose tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped.

  “I didn’t see you there.” She shook her head, making her wiry blond curls bounce. “What time is it?”

  “Closing time.” Rose turned so Lola could see Max. “This is Max. He’s the...guy I told you about.”

  “Oh, yes.” Lola pushed up from her seat and stuck her hand out toward Max. Rose knew her nails were short, her fingers calloused. Hands of a true craftsman. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “What can I do for you? I hear you’ve been keeping young Rose safe?” She swept up her hair and tamed it into a bun with a tie from her wrist. Short, stubborn curls sprang out from all directions, giving her a look that was a cross between hippie and mad scientist.

  “I just wanted to ask a few questions about the break-in here.”

  Lola nodded. “Sure. I’m not sure what I can tell you, but go right ahead.”

  “Have you experienced any strange phone calls lately? Or have you had any customers who struck you as out of the ordinary?”

  Rose noticed that he watched Lola closely, his dark eyes locked on her.

  “No calls. We had some guy come through the store the other day who was high as a kite. But that happens from time to time.” She shrugged. “I can’t think of anything else.”

  “Have you ever heard of the Noelle Diamond?”

  Lola blinked. “Uh...no. I can’t say I have.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She tapped a finger to her chin and paused for a moment. “No, doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”

  “Just something that came up as part of our investigation. I thought you might know something of it, given your work.”

  “We don’t do big diamonds here,” Lola said, her nose tipped up at Max. “This is a creative boutique where it takes more than an expensive rock to make a good design.”

  “I understand.”

  “Now I need to get back to my work, if that’s okay with you.” She gestured to a half-finished necklace hanging around the neck of a large fabric bust. “We’ve got a fashion show in two weeks, and this necklace isn’t going to make itself.”

  Rose patted her boss’s arm. “Thanks, Lola. I’ll see you in a few days?”

  “Yes, come in early for your next shift. I want to get your opinion on the work of a new artist.”

  “Will do.”

  Rose grabbed her jacket and Max held it up so she could slip her arms into the sleeves. With him so close behind her, she was tempted to lean against the breadth of his chest. To rest her head on his shoulder and breathe in the scent of woodsy aftershave on his skin.

  But he moved too quickly, and in moments they were outside, the door locked behind them. The wind whipped past, lifting her hair and tossing it around her face. The chill sliced straight through her coat and impractical silk pants.

  “Cold?” he asked, pulling a scarf tight around his neck.

  “Just a little.” She burrowed her chin down into her coat, but she’d left her scarf and gloves at home by accident. London had been cold, but she’d forgotten the d
ifference a few degrees could make, and this winter was predicted to be a harsh one in New York.

  He unwound his scarf and wrapped it around her neck, the thick wool giving her skin respite from the chill.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “It’s my fault I wasn’t prepared.”

  “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I let you freeze.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.

  “Since when are you a gentleman?”

  He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “That’s the thanks I get for warming you up?”

  “Maybe I’d prefer you to warm me up some other way,” she said. They rounded a corner and she pressed closer to him as they avoided a large group of people coming in the other direction. “A hot bath perhaps?”

  The chill disappeared as wanton need spread through her like wildfire. Right then she would have been happy to skip dinner—and every other meal for the next three days—to get Max into her bed. She had to satiate this need, or her desire for him would only grow.

  And Max wasn’t going to stick around forever.

  A hollow pit gaped in her stomach. The idea of not seeing him again was...unappealing, at best. At worst, she feared he would leave a nagging, unconquerable hunger gnawing at her insides.

  “I hope you like pub food. I’ve been craving a beer.” Max stopped in front of the inconspicuous entrance to The Striped Llama and held open the door.

  The tables were already full, despite it being quite early for dinner. So the hostess ushered them to the bar and gave them a beeping device that would alert them when a table was ready. Rose shrugged out of her coat and pulled the scarf from her neck, holding it out to Max.

  “Thanks for keeping me warm.”

  “This is going to smell all girlie now,” he said. “You keep it. You’ll need it for the trip home.”

  Of course she knew that it meant nothing, but her heart did a little flip when he said “home.” Coming home as a child had meant entering a war zone, blocking her ears to the screaming between her mom and dad. On occasion she’d decided to walk around the block once more to see if the arguing would die down.

  But coming home to Max would not be the same.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked after the bartender took their drink order.

  “Yes.” She hadn’t yet looked at the menu, but her hunger wasn’t so much about food.

  He turned on his stool so their knees touched. “The fish looks good.”

  When the wine appeared in front of her she sipped. “You look good.”

  He pulled a stern face. “Rose, my mission tonight is to make sure you’re watered and fed. Then I’m putting you to bed so you can get a decent night’s sleep.”

  “Going to bed and sleeping don’t seem to go hand in hand at the moment. I barely got a wink last night.” She sighed. “I kept hearing that voice...”

  The menacing rasp had swirled in her head like a tornado, eating up her peace and quiet, pushing sleep further from her grasp. She’d wanted nothing more than to be held...by Max. She’d craved his strong arms around her, but she’d stopped herself from getting out of bed and going to him.

  But why? She deserved some comfort in her life, and Max was the only one who could give it to her. It was time for her to stop denying herself what she wanted. And as she’d realized in her earlier discussion with Nala, shutting people out had only made her lonelier. Maybe it was time to let Max in.

  His expression softened. “No one is going to get to you while I’m around. I promise.”

  “I’ll sleep better if you’re in bed with me.” She smiled innocently.

  “If I’m in your bed, you won’t be sleeping.” His dark eyes roamed her face, the flare of his pupils kicking her heartbeat up a notch. “Which is exactly why I won’t be there. I want you to rest.”

  Her hand brushed over the worn denim on his leg, her soft fingertips meeting his hard thigh. His muscle twitched beneath her touch and she brought her hand up higher until he caught her wrist.

  “What I want,” she continued, “is you, me and a bathtub full of bubbles.” She snatched her wrist back. “Among other things. Do they train you to hold your breath underwater for long periods of time?”

  He smiled. “I don’t need a long period of time.”

  “And you say you won’t come to my bed.” She shook her head. “That’s cruel.”

  “I just...” He took a long gulp of his beer. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m here to protect you and to figure out what’s going on with these break-ins. We’re not playing house.”

  He may as well have slapped her across the face. She blinked. “I know that. I don’t want to play house. I want to fuck. I thought I’d made that clear.”

  The words came out harsh, ragged. Lies, really. Yes, she wanted sex but she also wanted what came after. The closeness. Intimacy. Affection. Embarrassment prickled along her neck and filled her cheeks.

  His words hurt...like a blade through her heart. “My mother never spoke up for what she wanted,” Rose said, pausing to take a sip of her wine. “She’d dreamed of becoming an actress on Broadway. It’s the reason she convinced her mother to move the family to New York.”

  “I take it she never made it to Broadway.”

  “No, not even close. After she met my father, he expected her to be a housewife. She wanted to keep him happy, so that’s what she became. But he wasn’t happy, and neither was she.” She traced the rim of her glass with a fingertip. “Then we moved to London and she had to work two jobs to pay the rent. She wanted me to get a real job.”

  When Rose had said she was going to be a jewelry designer, her mother had been devastated. The ensuing argument rang clearly in her mind, as if it had only happened yesterday. She’d loved her mother more than anything, but that day she’d come to understand how different they were as people. Her mother had given up on her dreams, but Rose would not.

  “So I worked in an office and did my part to help out financially, but I made my jewelry on the side. I never stopped going after what I wanted, and I don’t plan on changing that now.” She looked Max in the eye, watching as his lashes touched with each blink. “Just because you end up in a bad spot doesn’t mean you can quit. If you quit you don’t deserve your dream.”

  “I admire your ambition, Rose.” His thumb smoothed up the side of her jaw as his hand cupped her face.

  “I don’t want you to admire me. I want you to come to bed with me. And not leave in the middle of the night.”

  * * *

  MAX HAD SHOVED his foot into his mouth so hard he’d be tasting snow and New York sidewalk for a week. The worst thing was he didn’t consider Rose a one-night stand...or a one-and-a-half-night stand.

  Perhaps that’s why he felt so jumpy about sleeping with her again. He wanted to—oh, God, how he wanted to—but he didn’t want to hurt her when he ended it. Because he would end it.

  It’d only been a year since he’d called things off with Megan, and the memory of losing both her and Ryan was still fresh. He continued to have nightmares about watching Ryan die. Even more than that, he wanted to return to Australia and get his old job back.

  If you quit you don’t deserve your dream.

  Rose was right, he had quit, but he was doing everything in his power to prove to himself that he deserved to go home. Starting something with her now would be irresponsible. She deserved better...

  But that didn’t mean he was able to ignore their deep, magnetic attraction. He felt its pull whenever they were together, like an invisible thread that bonded them.

  “I just wanted to be clear about where things stand. I like you, Rose. That’s why I don’t want to mislead you.”

  “Oh, no, I read you loud and clear, captain,” she said, turning away from him and draining the remainder of her win
e.

  Shit. He hadn’t wanted to upset her. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, his phone vibrated against his hip. An international number flashed up on the screen. Home.

  “Hello?” He watched Rose out of the corner of his eye and pushed off the bar stool.

  “Max, it’s Gene. How the bloody hell are you?”

  The sound of a strong Australian accent washed over him, reminding him of all he missed about home. Gene Pickering, his former boss and police inspector extraordinaire, had a booming voice that could carry across suburbs. He used it to fire up his team or have them cowering in a corner, as he pleased.

  “It’s been a long time. I’m good.” Max smiled. “How’s Melbourne treating you these days?”

  “She’s a hot one.” He chuckled. “The damned summer won’t let up and the wife’s threatening to move us to Antarctica. Forty-two degrees for the fourth day in a row.”

  “Ah, Celsius. I miss the metric system...and decent espresso.”

  “So don’t miss it.” Gene paused and the silence filled itself with a million possibilities. “There’s a position on my team—it’s got your name written all over it.”

  “Sure it has. But HR has to vet all the candidates,” Max said carefully. “You can’t promise me anything.”

  “I’m serious, Ridgeway.” Gene sighed. “We want you back.”

  “I... I’m in the middle of an assignment.” Max raked a hand through his hair, watching as Rose sipped from her water glass.

  “So finish the assignment and come home. You can’t run away from what happened forever. You weren’t to blame. Everyone knows that.”

  Max turned away from Rose and squeezed his eyes shut. His mind buzzed. They wanted him back? “You were the one who said I needed some distance.”

  “I meant take a personal break, not move to the other side of the goddamn world.” Gene paused. “You wanted time. I get that, but it’s been a year.”

  “And you have a position for me just like that?”

  “Well, we have to go through the proper process. But you’re working now, and if you’ve got a couple of arrests under your belt, then we can say you’ve been off getting overseas experience.”