A Dangerously Sexy Christmas

by Stefanie London

  “No, but you do save people.”

  “Not always.” He stiffened. His tension flowed to her as he drew circles on her arm with his finger.

  “Why did you really leave Australia?”

  She sucked in a breath and prepared herself for his rejection. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to talk about his personal life, yet she continued to probe like a small-town busybody.

  Sure, she was curious, but—against her better judgment—she’d also started to care about Max. She wanted to know him.

  His breath came out in a rush and he relaxed. “I lost someone... Well, two people.”

  She turned in his grasp, pressing her face against his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck as if anchoring herself so he couldn’t run. His hand stroked her hair, sweeping it off her face.

  “My best friend was killed on the job. We went to school together, and then we trained at the academy together. I’d known him most of my life.” For words that should have been emotionally charged, they sounded flatter than a dead car battery. “I was going to marry his sister. We were going to be brothers.”

  When his voice cracked on the last word, Rose thought her chest was going to split in two. She hugged him tighter, as if she could squeeze the pain out of him.

  “He died because I...” He drew a deep breath. “Because I followed orders instead of going with my intuition. Something didn’t feel right, but I didn’t listen to my gut. I just followed orders like a goddamn sheep.”

  “What happened?”

  He paused and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t continue.

  “We were on a raid. One of our undercover guys had identified the house as a meth lab. We had the place surrounded and our orders were to hang back. To wait. But...but...” His breath shook. “We could hear a kid crying inside. Ryan wanted to go in.”

  Rose squeezed her eyes shut.

  ‘“Trust me, we need to go in now or that kid is dead.’ That’s what he said to me. I couldn’t convince him to stay, but I didn’t follow him in.”

  She pressed a hand to his chest and felt his thumping heartbeat through her palm.

  “The fucking kid wasn’t even real. It was a recording they played to stop us from storming the place.” He thumped his fist against the bed. “My gut told me to cover him. Maybe two guns against their one would have... Maybe I could have saved him.”

  “You were just doing your job.”

  “He died because of me. If I’d just protected him...he wouldn’t... He wouldn’t have...” He tightened his hold on her, crushing her, clinging to her as though she were his buoy at sea.

  “It’s not your fault,” she whispered.

  “I loved that guy like a brother. And Megan...” His cheek pressed against her head. “Every time I looked at her all I could see was him in the last moment before he died. I watched the light die inside him. She reminded me of what I’d done.”

  “You left her.”

  “She didn’t blame me, but she should have. They all should have.”

  The silence in the room crushed down on her like a caved-in roof. What were you supposed to say to someone who held himself responsible for his best friend’s death?

  She may have only met Max a few days ago, but she knew one thing for certain—he was a good man with a good heart. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he’d lay his life on the line to protect someone he cared about, and that he wasn’t to blame for what had happened that fateful day.

  All the anguish he’d packed down for the past twelve months came flooding out then. Rose held him, hoping she could be the safety net he needed.

  * * *

  SO MANY PEOPLE had told him to talk about it; the counselors, his colleagues, his boss...his family.

  But he hadn’t been able to do it. He hadn’t been able to say the words aloud.

  It’s my fault he’s dead. I didn’t protect him.

  “She should have kicked me out. She should have hated me.” He remembered Megan’s face vividly as he’d walked out of their home—her blue eyes the exact same shade as her brother’s—and he’d known then that he was the worst human being on the planet.

  She’d lost her brother and Max hadn’t been able to be strong for her. He’d failed them both.

  “But she didn’t, Max. There’s got to be a reason for that.”

  “Maybe she didn’t want to lose us both at once, but she would have blamed me one day.”

  “You don’t know that, not really.” She paused for a moment. “If the situation was reversed, would you have wanted people to blame your friend?”

  Of course he wouldn’t have wanted that. But things were the way they were; he was alive and Ryan was dead. Max swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat.

  “Well, would you?” Rose looked up at him, her eyes glowing in the thin beam of light that filtered in from a street light.

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “Is it?”

  Anything could happen when you work that kind of a job. You were dealing with the most dangerous kind of people: drug dealers, mobsters, people who had everything to gain by fighting and killing you.

  “So you need to forgive yourself.” She cupped his face, her thumbs working circles into his temples.

  “Since when did you become the master of self-healing?” He tried to laugh, but the sound came out strangled.

  “I’ve done a lot of thinking since my mom died, and even more since someone decided to break into my home. Security is a figment of the imagination. Your life can change at any moment.” A car turned in front of the apartment, its headlights lighting up the room and then dropping it back into darkness. “Nothing is permanent, and that’s probably for the best.”

  He never would have thought it possible, but the crushing guilt that had weighed him down the past twelve months shifted. It didn’t disappear, and Max couldn’t be certain it had lessened at all. But he felt a slight reprieve, as though Rose had taken a chisel to the stone wall he’d erected around his heart and chipped a piece away with her words.

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re a smart cookie?” He held her close so that her head was tucked against his chest and she wouldn’t see him stripped bare.

  “Just you,” she replied, her voice now heavy with the lure of slumber.

  He held her tight, feeling her body go slack in his arms and her breathing even out. He waited until he was sure she wouldn’t wake and slipped out of the bed determined to put some distance between them before he hurt her the way he’d hurt Megan. Only his ex had had her whole family to rely on.

  Who did Rose have?

  * * *

  WHEN ROSE WOKE the next morning she knew that Max hadn’t stayed the night in her bed. A sound had roused her in the pitch black of early morning and she’d reached for him only to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. Nightmares had swum in her head as she’d tried to sleep. His arms around her would have made her feel safe...but he’d put space between them. Again.

  Yesterday he’d tried to make it clear that there was no future for them, but she’d felt something last night when he’d opened up to her. That conversation hadn’t been the sex talking. It had been deeper...basal. A thread now connected them that went beyond lust and wanton need.

  But he obviously wasn’t willing to explore it if he couldn’t even last the whole night in her bed.

  The sound of the coffee machine whirring to life in the other room made her sit up. By the time she’d showered and changed, the scent of it had swept through the apartment, drawing her out to the kitchen as if by an invisible leash.

  “Morning,” Max called out cheerfully as he stood at her kitchen counter in jeans and a T-shirt, his wet hair dripping water down his back and causing the white cotton of his shirt to cling to his muscles.


  How was it possible for him to look so good after he’d ditched her last night? Clearly the gods were feeling extra malicious today.

  “Morning,” she mumbled in return, replying to him only out of deeply ingrained manners and not because she wanted to.

  “Coffee?” He poured a cup and held it out to her.

  She took the mug, relishing the heat on her palms, and dropped down into a chair at the kitchen table. Outside, snow fell in light, fluffy flakes. The lights on her Christmas tree winked in a carefully arranged pattern, glinting off the side of the red and gold baubles, and the angel stared down at her from its position at the top of the tee.

  “Did you turn the lights on?” Rose sipped her coffee, inhaling deeply at the tendril of steam curling up from her mug.

  “Yeah, I thought the snow was cool and I wanted to see what the tree would look like next to it.” He joined her at the table. “Our Christmases are so hot back home. It’s kind of novel to get the full white-Christmas package.”

  “It’s pretty.” She traced the edge of her mug with her fingertip.

  Max pushed a hand through his hair and the strands stayed put because they were still damp. His eyes were bright, the smile ready on his lips. Perhaps he’d slept better than she had.

  The conflict and vulnerability he’d shown last night were gone. No, not gone. Just buried, she suspected. Feelings such as those never went away.

  Never before had she discussed anything serious after sex, nor had she ever wanted a guy to stay as much as she’d wanted it from Max last night. The disappointment that he’d up and left—and was now happily bustling about in her kitchen without a care in the word—cut deep. Deeper than it should.

  “I’ve got one of my colleagues looking into the Noelle Diamond at the office,” he said, pulling her from her inner confusion. “I don’t suppose any memories have magically come to you overnight?”

  “No.” She sipped her coffee. “I told you, I don’t know anything about it.”

  He nodded. “What else can you tell me about how things were before you left for London? I’m thinking if this all started when you come back to New York, maybe something happened here that’s connected to the recent attacks.”

  “From twelve years ago?” She shook her head. “It wasn’t a great time. Aside from the fighting, Dad would disappear for days. I never knew where he went, but it usually happened after a huge blow up with Mom.”

  She chewed on her lip and Max caught the gesture with his sharp brown eyes. “What else?”

  “I think...” She drew a deep breath and prepared to tell him something she’d never admitted to another living soul. Hell, if Max could share his guilt, she could, too. “I think it’s my fault that Mom moved us to London.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I was in a shitty mood one day and I came home to hear them fighting. I just...lost it.” She fiddled with the ends of her hair. “I screamed at them both that I wanted a normal family, I wanted a normal life. I was sick of coming home to yelling and plates flying at the wall. I said I wanted to leave New York and start over with a new family.”

  Sympathy streaked across Max’s face, his dark brows crinkling. “Totally normal behavior for a teenager in that situation.”

  “I know, but Mom looked so hurt after I said that. I felt guilty, so I decided to do the washing to make it up to her. I even folded up all the underwear, including these pretty lacy ones I hadn’t seen before.”

  Max cringed before she’d even delivered the blow. “And?”

  “I took them up to her to show her I was trying to make up for being a brat... The underwear wasn’t hers.” Rose shut her eyes, remembering the tears forming in her mother’s eyes as she’d thanked her and taken the basket away. She hadn’t said anything, but Rose had known. Instantly. “We left the following week.”

  “Rose, that is not your fault. Your father’s infidelity had nothing to do with you.”

  “Mom never mentioned his cheating, and neither did I. But I knew. Still, maybe if I hadn’t taken the lingerie to her my parents would have made up and...” She swallowed. “This has nothing to do with the diamond, anyway.”

  Instead of reliving the pressure in her chest, the admission made the pain worse. As if saying the words aloud had solidified her involvement in the demise of her parents’ relationship.

  She needed a break, some air at the very least. She and Max had been living in each other’s pockets the past few days. A little space would give her some perspective. Help her to see that she was just wrapped up in the sizzling chemistry they had—nothing more.

  But she’d crossed a barrier by opening up to him. She’d made herself vulnerable to a guy who’d made it clear they weren’t “playing house” or anything more.

  “I need to run a few errands today.’ She set the mug down on the table and stared out the window so she wouldn’t be distracted by him.

  “Okay. We can head out soon. I want to pop into the office and pick up a report.”

  “You head out when you’re ready.” She pushed back on her chair and stood, drained the last of her coffee and took the mug to the sink. “I’ll be leaving shortly.”

  “You’re not going out on your own.” He tilted his head, dark brows creased. “It’s no problem. I’ll come with you.”

  “No, I’m perfectly capable of running an errand by myself. I have to drop off a design to a client and then I’ll come straight home.” She watched the lights blinking to their silent tune and forced down the irrational anger that bubbled up like a pot about to boil over. “I don’t need you to accompany me everywhere.”

  “Rose, what’s wrong?” He abandoned his drink and came around to stand next to her, his hand on her arm.

  The touch burned through the sheer fabric of her blouse and she shook him off. “Nothing is wrong. I hate having you stuck to my side every second of the day like a goddamn barnacle.”

  He blinked. “And you haven’t raised this issue before because...?”

  “I understand you have a job to do, but I don’t want that to interfere with my life.” In her head the words sounded fair, but they came out of her mouth with a tremor that gave everything away.

  No doubt he’d be able to see exactly what was going on in her head. The need to escape crashed into her like a tidal wave. She was desperate for space to think. To rationalize.

  To forget.

  “Just because we didn’t hear anything yesterday doesn’t mean the threat has gone away.”

  “You’re overreacting.” She turned and headed toward her bedroom, determined to get the hell out of the apartment before she blurted out her confused tumble of emotions and ruined everything.

  “No, you’re overreacting. What’s the big deal with me accompanying you down the street?” He rubbed his jaw. “Hell, I won’t talk to you if that makes a difference. I’ll walk behind you, even. But I want to make sure you’re safe.”

  “You don’t want that.” She walked into her room and tried not to stare at the crumpled sheets where they’d lain. She fished her trench coat out of the closet and slipped it on. “It’s your job. There’s a big difference there.

  “Do you think I’d be doing anything different if this was personal?”

  The question stung as though he’d slapped her across the face with the force of a thousand blows. Of course it wasn’t personal. He’d made that clear. She was the one who was making it personal.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m the client and I’m telling you I’m leaving the house now. I’ll see you when you get back from the office.”

  She reached for a bright red scarf and wound it around her neck before slipping her work folio over one shoulder.

  “Why don’t you say what’s really wrong here?” He put one hand against the door frame, blocking her from leaving as he
slipped on his boots with his free hand.

  “Just because we had sex doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.” She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down. “I want to figure out what’s going on with this diamond thing, but I also want to keep on living like everything is normal. I have a business to run, and I’m not wasting any opportunities because some thugs have the wrong person.”

  Max’s eyes clamped shut for a moment. “I’m not saying you can’t leave the house. Jeez, Rose, you make me sound like a tyrant.”

  Far from it. The Max she’d come to know was kind, affectionate and dedicated. Loyal.

  “You’re not a tyrant, but I told you, I’m not some damsel in distress.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” His lips pressed into a flat line. “I respect you and your independence. But I also respect your safety and, I’m sorry, but these guys managed to hurt you once before... I don’t want that to happen again.”

  “Honestly, Max, I need a little space.” The anger seeped out of her and all that was left was a dull, hollow ache. She’d take fiery rage over the cold fear of loneliness any day.

  “Is this about last night?” He looked away. “About what I said at the bar?”

  Shame prickled up her neck, turning her cheeks hot and her palms sweaty. “No,” she lied.

  “I only wanted to be clear with you so that you didn’t expect anything from me that I couldn’t give.”

  Hearing it again shouldn’t have hurt any more. After all, Rose no longer expected people to stick around. But a part of her—deep down, buried and almost dead—had hoped Max might see the potential they had, especially after what they’d shared. She didn’t want to hope, but they’d let one another in...and that meant something to her.

  “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to go for a walk.” She nodded pointedly at the arm he’d used to block her and he removed it. “Excuse me.”

  “Keep your phone on and call me if anything happens.” He opened the front door and held it for her.

  “I will.”