by M. S. Parker
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I looked over at the clock. The numbers glowed up at me, and I groaned. First decent rest I’d had in what felt like ages, and now I was wide awake, heart racing, and for what?
Something downstairs crashed.
Shit.
I climbed out of bed as quietly as I could, grabbing the workout pants I’d dropped on the floor earlier. I pulled them on and then eased my way over to the door.
There was another crash, and I swore under my breath as I heard glass break. I looked at the table. I needed to call the cops.
My phone wasn’t there.
Son of a bitch.
26
Astra
“It’s a pretty house, isn’t it?” The little bit of a filter I had between my brain and my mouth seemed to disappear when I had just a bit too much to drink.
The taxi driver didn’t seem to mind though, and not in a lecherous way. He smiled at me in the rearview mirror and nodded. “Very pretty, Miss Astra.”
I’d introduced myself when I got in the car. I always did that. I didn’t know why. Seemed like a stupid idea to ride around with somebody and not know their name.
Now, as we took the twisting, winding road that led to the guesthouse, I studied the bigger one in the distance. I hadn’t paid much attention to it the day I first come out here, but now, even in my semi-drunk state, I couldn’t help but stare.
And as I stared, I realized something was missing.
“He needs Christmas lights,” I announced.
My taxi driver – his name was Chris, and he actually kind of looked like Chris Evans, only a little shabbier – shot me another look. “That’s not your house?”
“Nope.” Flinging a hand out, I smacked it into the window. Ouch. Frowning, I managed to point toward the guesthouse, already merrily bedecked with Christmas lights and a snowman. So what if it would never snow in Malibu? “That’s my house. See? Christmas lights. My…” Crush. Obsession…boss. “Um, my landlord lives in the other house. He needs Christmas lights. Don’t you think?”
“If you say so, ma’am.” He gave me another smile as he pulled to a stop. “Maybe you should help him out with that.”
“I should!” Beaming at my new friend, I rummaged through the small purse I’d taken to the party, trying to find my credit card. How could I lose a credit card in something not much bigger than my phone? But then I realized I’d tucked it into the narrow pocket in the back. Fumbling it out, I swiped it on the machine and gave him a tip that almost equaled the fare. It was Christmas, after all. “Have a Merry Christmas, Chris.”
“Same to you, Miss Astra.”
He waited until I was inside before he left.
That was sweet. Inside, I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. It helped settle the spinning in my head, and I listened to the sound of the taxi as it retreated.
“Wasn’t that sweet how he waited?” I said to the quiet house.
Nothing responded. I was, after all, alone.
Alone with my pretty, decorated tree, and lights that twined around the banister. Piety had come to visit a few days earlier, and she told me it looked like Santa had made a second home in California. My parents only ever put up a single tree, adorned with pristine white lights and red ribbons. Perfectly classic, perfectly elegant. And boring. Well, technically the staff put up the tree. It just wasn’t done by people like my parents.
They’d put me in charge once, but the results had been declared garish by my mother, and she’d had it all redone before dinner that night. I didn’t decorate again until Piety and I were in our dorm room freshman year. Even then, I hadn’t gone quite as far as I wanted. I’d kept hearing my mother’s voice in my head, criticizing every garland, every strand of lights.
This year, however, I not only had an amazing place to decorate, but I didn’t need to worry about my parents stopping by, so I could do what I wanted. And I had. Garlands and stockings and wreaths and ornaments and everything I could have possibly wanted. I even had a Christmas tree in my bedroom. The soft rainbow-colored lights were the last thing I saw when I went to sleep each night.
And Dash didn’t even have a wreath on his door.
That just wasn’t right.
“Maybe the sweet taxi cab driver was right,” I said out loud. “I should help Dash out.”
The front door was locked. So was the back door and each of the side doors.
That was disappointing.
I thought I could pick one of the locks since I’d learned how to in college thanks to my inability to keep track of my dorm room keys. I’d continued to hone my considerable talents in the field even after Piety and I moved into a loft together. She’d been appalled when I told her, but then I said that it was a good way to make sure our alarm system worked, and she’d started laughing. It had gone off every time I’d picked the lock, and I’d had to call the company, but I’d gotten inside.
Dash’s locks were a little more sophisticated.
Hauling around the giants bags full of Christmas lights and decorations still left over my shopping expedition had me worn out, and it was also making the alcohol daze fade from my brain faster than I would have expected.
But I was set on my course.
I’d already hung the wreath. Now I had to get inside and get the rest of it done before he woke up. It was a surprise. I giggled at the thought of his expression when he saw what I’d done.
Backing away from the last door on this level, I blew out a breath and tried to think up another way of getting inside. Tipping my head back, I stared up at the house, mind going blank.
I’d been looking at the curtain fluttering in the breeze for several minutes before my mind processed what I was seeing.
An open window.
No screen.
Jackpot.
There was way too much to do for this to be a quick thing.
I knew that within five minutes.
I’d hoped to get all of this done before he woke up and be back in my bed, snoozing away. I’d schedule a text, tell him that this time, he had a delivery…and he’d have to go look…and he’d find the decorations.
But his house was deceptively large.
I’d never be able to make it look like a Christmas explosion with the two bags of decorations I had. That was disappointing. I scowled at the house, like its size was a personal affront.
A buzzing noise caught my ear a minute after I brought the decorations inside. I hadn’t been able to bring them through the window, so I’d put them on the porch, gone back around, climbed in, then gone back through the house to get them.
The phone buzzed a second time.
Then a third.
I ignored it.
It was Dash’s cell phone, but whoever was calling him at hell-o’clock needed to learn some phone etiquette. Besides, they were interrupting my decorating thoughts, and that was just rude.
I twined the lights around the banner, glad I’d been able to find a set that was cordless. The batteries wouldn’t last forever, but I just needed them to last through the night, and they would.
Once that was done, I hauled out the miniature tree that was a duplicate of the centerpiece on my dining room table. It lit up too. It went on the table next to Dash’s phone. Part of me wished I’d gone with the singing one so that every time Dash walked by, it would go off in a cheerful rendition of “Jingle Bells.”
Rooting through the bag, I came up with a crystal ornament that held a sprig of mistletoe attached to a velvet ribbon. I eyed the ceiling but saw no way to hang it there, so it went on the table for now.
The last thing to come out of the first bag was a length of light-bedecked garland. I still had some of the wall fasteners. I loved those things. No nails, and they came off without messing up the wall. But I needed a chair. Leaving my Christmas loot where it was, I went through the dark house in search of one.
It didn’t take too long, and a couple of minutes later, I was hauling it back into the entryway in my bare
feet. I shot one quick, nervous look toward the stairs.
I would have been better off paying attention to the floor.
I tripped over the bags. The chair went crashing one way. I toppled backwards and landed on my ass.
Chaos ensued, like a play choreographed by little gremlins. As I hit the ground, I heard a voice coming from a speaker.
“Mr. Lahti? This is Deputy Collier, Los Angeles County Police. Your security company contacted us…”
Blood started to roar in my ears.
Fuck.
I also heard the distinct sound of wood creaking. I knew that sound. I grew up in a house that had been in my father’s family for generations. Old homes, even classy old homes, made noises. Like creaking wood floors.
And the sound I heard just now was the sound of somebody moving down a flight of wooden stairs.
Closing my eyes, I flung my forearm over my eyes. “Kill me now,” I muttered.
“Mr. Lahti. Are you in any danger?”
I felt it when his eyes hit me. It was like a furnace had been turned on and began to blast heat, squarely at me. Lowering my arm, I cracked one eyelid open and peeked at him.
He was gaping at me, and I suddenly wondered if my dress had flown up when I’d fallen, exposing the matching red lace panties I’d put on in the misguided hope that he might be seeing them. Well, he was probably seeing them now, but I really wished it’d happened under different circumstances.
I was so getting fired.
Maybe arrested.
“Mr. Lahti, if we don’t get a response, we’ll have to enter the premises–”
“Shit,” Dash muttered.
A moment later, I heard him speaking to…well, I couldn’t see whoever the speaker was, but he was clearly communicating with the police. “Yes, I accidentally left my phone downstairs. Everything is fine. A friend of mine spent the night and stepped outside. She didn’t know about my security system. We were out at a Christmas party. Yes, yes…I’m contacting my security guys now, and I’ll have them dismiss the alert. I apologize for the trouble, deputy.”
Then…silence.
Face burning, I didn’t do anything. Laying there was easier.
Also, necessary. My ankle was starting to throb.
Wasn’t that just lovely?
I’d opened my eyes, so I knew he was staring at me again, but I pretended not to notice, studying the pattern worked into the ceiling with determination.
A few more seconds passed, then he spoke – but not to me. Because I’d set off alarms more than a few times, I recognized what he was doing. Talking to a security company about the alarm.
Fuck me.
Wasn’t this just the perfect way to celebrate Christmas? Even Piety would be pissed at me when I showed up at her door at the crack of dawn, unemployed, homeless, and hungover.
As the conversation continued, I turned my head and stared at the door. Could I somehow roll onto my knees and crawl outside before he noticed? Maybe he’d think Christmas gremlins had done it.
“Thanks. Good night.”
The call ended just like that, and I scrunched my eyes closed.
“Don’t even think about trying to sneak out.”
Dammit.
His voice was closer now. Turning my head, I saw him crouching down next to me, eyes intent on my face, his mouth tight, expression unreadable.
“Why not?” Unsure how to handle this, I decided on flippancy. It had served me so well in the past. “I snuck in easy enough.”
“Easy? According to my security people, they had signs of three locks being tampered with, and then you opened a door – from the inside.”
“Yes.” I smiled. “From the inside. Meaning I got in.”
He ground his teeth together, and my jaw ached in sympathy. I was tempted to reach up and stroke the frown away, but I thought it might result in me getting bitten. Instead, I scooted away and went to stand.
Immediately, I yelped, my ankle trying to give out from underneath me.
Dash, the perfect, sexy, bitable bastard, figured out the problem almost right away, and he grunted something ugly under his breath.
“Be still,” he ordered as he reached for me, and I tried to get away.
“I’m not at work,” I snapped. “That means you’re not my boss!”
I had the sudden urge to stick out my tongue at him.
We glared at each other for a moment before he shook his head.
“Fuck this.”
Suddenly, he hauled me up and dumped me over his shoulder, rising to his feet with near ridiculous ease.
With my head upside down and his shoulder digging into my gut, I was almost positive I’d never been in a more undignified position.
“You son of a bitch.” Slamming a hand into his back, I wiggled around but without much effect. Well, except the fact that my dress was dangerously close to revealing way too much. “Put me down.”
“Gladly.”
And he did, dumping me onto a wide leather couch.
My skirt and the petticoat underneath spilled all over me, half up my thighs. If it wasn’t for the fact that both the skirt and petticoat took up so much space, my panties would probably be showing. Possibly for the second time. As it were, I found myself blushing anyway, and it only got worse as Dash sat on the gleaming piece of polished mahogany that served as his coffee table. “Let me see your foot.”
I drew it up against me. “No.”
It was stupid, and I knew I was being childish, but I couldn’t seem to stop. Dash brought out the brat in me in so many ways. The alcohol, pain in my ankle, and the humiliation of being caught was catching up to me, making my temper simmer close to the surface.
He leaned inward, eyes narrowed. “You broke into my house–”
“I was hanging up Christmas decorations, you scrooge!”
“You…” He blew out a breath, eyes moving past my shoulder to linger on the entryway, the only place I’d managed to get anything done. When his gaze came back to me, he looked completely baffled. “Why does somebody break into another person’s house to decorate?”
“Mental instability, clearly.” My ankle was really starting to throb.
He raised an eyebrow.
Huffing out a breath, I said, “You didn’t have any decorations, okay? I just…it was sad. And you looked sad.”
“I…” A familiar look of consternation passed across his features. “I looked sad because I had no Christmas decorations? If I wanted them, I’d have put them up myself.”
“No.” Now I felt really stupid. “At the party. You didn’t look happy. I was going to come talk to you, but when I tried to find you, you were already gone.”
His shoulders rose and fell on a heavy breath. “I wasn’t sad, Astra. I’m just not much for parties. Or holidays.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Let me see your ankle.”
“Don’t want to.” I crossed my arms.
“Imogene.”
I glared at him. “My first name is off limits.”
A corner of his mouth twitched upward. “I think it’s fair play since you use mine.” He held out his hand. “Now, let me see your foot.”
Reluctantly, I uncurled my leg and mentally cursed my parents for having named me after my father’s favorite aunt.
Dash’s fingers were hot against my skin as they wrapped around my calf. “This might hurt,” he warned, voice gruff.
I bit back a whimper when he rotated my foot, but while it hurt, it wasn’t anything excruciating.
“I don’t think anything is broken, but I can take you to one of the all-night clinics if you want an x-ray,” he offered.
“No.” Shaking my head, I tried to tug my foot away.
He didn’t let go, his thumb moving back and forth across my leg, a strangely intimate gesture that made my insides twist and flutter.
“I’m…uh. I’ve broken my ankle before. Gymnastics.” Why did I volunteer that? “It’s definitely not broken.”
“I can see you doing
gymnastics,” he said with a soft smile.
“I did dance too,” I blurted out. “And karate, horseback riding, took some art classes...” My voice trailed away as I flushed. I needed to get the attention off me and my babbling. “I saw you doing a warm-up a few days ago. Kung Fu?”
That wasn’t any better.
“You saw me.” He cocked an eyebrow, sounding more curious than anything else.
Mouth dry, heart racing, I shrugged. “Well, I was out taking a walk and saw you. It…um…it looked hard, like it took a lot of focus. Didn’t want to interrupt.” Why was I still talking? “So I just…um…I watched you.”
“You watched me.”
He was repeating everything I said in a sort of low rumble that was turning me on more than it had any right to. He was also stroking my calf, and it was driving me insane.
Sucking in a breath, I looked away. I needed to get away from him before I did anything else stupid. But I was almost positive I’d need his help to get home. Skin hot and flushed, nipples tight and pulsing against my bra, I glanced over at him.
He was staring at my breasts, his eyes dark with that hungry look I’d seen on him before. Slowly, I slid forward to the very edge of the couch, and he finally let my ankle go, guiding it gently down so that it was braced on the table next to his thigh.
“Dash?”
He met my eyes but said nothing. No apologies for his touches, for his staring. No excuses or reasons. He just waited for whatever it was I had to say, his body tense as if my words could make or break him.
“We need to do one of two things.” I cleared my throat in an attempt to gain some control over the thick tension weaving its way between us. “You either need to help me get to my house…or help me get naked. Make up your mind. And do it fast.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat as I caught him behind the neck. Tugging his head down to meet mine, I said, “If I get to choose, I already know what I want.”
Then I kissed him, holding nothing back. I’d been trying too hard to behave myself, to push down my natural impulsive nature. I was done doing that, done playing it safe. I knew what I wanted, and I was going for it. No risk, no glory...or something like that.
