Unwrapping Holly

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Holly blushed at his little innuendo and the unbidden erotic images it evoked, but Jean didn’t seem to notice. She chuckled a bit more. “I believe that about as easily as I believe fish can fly.”

  “Some fish can fly,” Holly said instinctively, fumbling for anything to divert her mind from the memory of her naked breasts in Cole’s hands. She’d always been the family encyclopedia, the keeper of important catalog information, which had served her nicely in the legal field as well.

  “She has a point,” Cole said, resting his forearms on the table and speaking to Holly. “I’m the nice, responsible brother of the three, and she knows that.”

  Jean shook her head. “I’ll tell you all the gossip about him tomorrow,” Jean promised Holly. “I’m out of here for now. You kids have a good night.”

  Cole’s expression lit with amusement as he waved good naturedly to Jean and then fixed a penetrating stare on Holly. He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Wonder if that gossip will include a sexy encounter in the front seat of my truck three nights ago?”

  Panic rose in her, but she quickly noted the amusement in his eyes and dismissed it, trying not to get lost in the depths of those chocolate brown eyes—with little amber and copper speckles that reminded her of autumn. Feigning more chagrin than she felt, she said, “You are not the ‘nice’ one you claim to be for even bringing that up.”

  “Because you’d rather pretend it never happened, right?” he pointedly challenged.

  “That’s right,” she said, not backing down one bit. “I want to pretend it didn’t happen. I wasn’t supposed to ever see you again.”

  He arched a brow. “Is that so?”

  She almost swallowed her tongue at that question but managed to charge forward. “Yes. It’s so. And we both know you know it. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

  “But here I am,” he said softly. “What are you going to do with me?”

  Holly leaned back against the leather of the booth, and tried to portray her calm and collected courtroom persona. But as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and the glittery Santa shirt her mother had insisted she wear that day, and now regretted immensely, she was anything but. She was in uncharted territory. The men she’d been with in the past might have been merely “vanilla sex” competent, but at least she knew what to do with them. This one, she did not. At least not outside her fantasies, definitely not in flesh and blood. She’d never acted as brazenly as she had with Cole. What was she going to do with him? There were lots of things she wanted to do with him. Like lick him in all kinds of places, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  He arched a brow that said, Feel free to throw out suggestions if you are having trouble narrowing the options. Or I could suggest a few possibilities myself. His eyes twinkled with sexy mischief. “You could start—”

  Carol reappeared at that moment, and Holly wanted to scream. She could start how? Start by kissing him all over? By getting up and dragging him to the restroom and finally feeling what it was like to have that man inside her? To—

  “How’s Jacob doing?” Carol asked, filling the two coffee cups she’d brought to the table with the pot she held. “I heard from Katie over at the salon, he got in some fight at The Tavern Friday night, defending some woman from a wife beater, and broke his leg.”

  “Jacob is doing a fine job of defying doctor’s orders to stay in bed and has irritated me every opportunity he gets. So he’s pretty much back to his normal self, with the addition of a cast and bigger-than-usual attitude.”

  Carol chuckled. “He was a hero from what I hear,” she told him. “Helped that poor woman. So cut the boy some slack. I’ll give you some pie to take to him. That coconut kind he likes so much. Let me know if you two need anything more.”

  “I’ll see that he gets it,” he said. She walked away and he refocused on Holly. “And there you have the gossip circuit of a small town. She found out in the salon. But now you know. That’s why my brother came to the truck the other night; otherwise they would not have. Some fun over a beer inside the tavern is one thing. They know appropriate boundaries.”

  Holly now felt bad for thinking the worst of his brothers the night before. “I’m sorry. I thought. . . .” She pushed her computer aside, welcoming him for the first time since he sat down. She should be writing, but she wasn’t going to try now. The diner would close soon anyway. “Did Jacob at least get one good jab in before he went down?”

  A slow smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “That’s the exact question I asked when I found out.”

  She smiled. “You did?”

  He nodded.

  “And?” she prodded. “Did he?”

  “He did,” Cole said. “But the woman went right back to her husband. Jacob’s feeling like he did it all for nothing.”

  Holly poured cream into her coffee and stopped a moment. “That’s not true,” she said. “Tell him it’s not true. What he did told her there are people out there that will help. Maybe it will become the tiny chip in her husband’s persona of intimidation that makes her less afraid to act. Sheriff Jack was involved, I assume? He’s never been one to look the other way. He’ll stay on the guy.”

  “Sheriff Jack is the reason Jacob isn’t charged with assault. This kid he scrapped with is new in town. The sheriff promised the guy he’d take off his badge and punch him himself if he ever heard of him hitting a woman again. That pretty much discouraged him from filing charges.” He studied her a moment. “You know this town as if you grew up around here. And if the staff here is any indicator, it seems folks know you, too.”

  Part of her clamored with the warning to stop the talking, to avoid getting personal, but she found herself answering anyway. “As I mentioned, I grew up here, yes. Went to school with Sheriff Jack. His dad pulled me out of more than a ditch or two in his day as sheriff.” She shook her head. “That was when I first had my driver’s license and it was not pretty. I wasn’t so good at navigating in the snow.”

  Amusement flickered across his face. “And now? Are you good in the snow now?”

  “Judging from the slipping and sliding I was doing coming over here, no,” she said, and laughed, amused at herself. “I’m out of practice, for sure. Other than a short visit here or there, I’ve been gone ten years. Around my area of the country, these past ten years, snow is a fable.”

  “Where would that be?”

  “Houston, Texas. Law school and then a law firm.”

  He picked up the book. “And then writer?”

  “Yes. And finally doing it full-time, which has me nervous as heck. I can’t seem to put words on the page. That’s why I came home. I thought a change of scenery might help me through the terror of failure.”

  Glancing at the book and then at her, he said, “I think the part here that says ‘USA Today bestselling author’ guarantees you’ve succeeded.”

  “One time on a list does not make a career,” she said drily, and shifted the conversation away from anything that reminded her of the deadline fast approaching. “What about you? I know you weren’t here before that because I’ve never heard of the Wiley brothers. And clearly everyone else has. How’d you end up here?”

  “I came to town about two years after you left from the sounds of it.” He slid back into the seat and stretched one long leg parallel to the table, his back against the wall, one arm lazily draped on the seat. Casual, easygoing. “My mom and dad—both gone now—retired from corporate living in upstate New York. Dad and I had always talked about opening a business together, and it seemed the right time. I was twenty-five, four years out of college, working for a big-city contractor. There wasn’t a local operation in Haven, so it seemed a perfect fit. And where we went, my brothers tended to follow.”

  She curled her jean-clad legs onto the seat and angled herself toward him. “I have two sisters and a younger brother who I adore, but I don’t think I could work with any of them.” She lifted her cup and mock-toasted him. “You’re a better
man than I.” She sighed and set her cup back down. “Though I’m looking forward to seeing them when they get here. I just have to get my work done first.” She glanced at her watch. “They’re closing here soon.” Holly sighed. “And my parents’ place is proving a distraction that’s not working.” She laughed, feeling a bit awkward about what that distraction truly was. “I guess this town will never be big enough for a Starbucks. I would’ve torn through some pages with a good White Mocha in hand.”

  “I have a nice, quiet den with a fireplace,” he said. “Come home with me, Holly.” A smile touched his lips. “Use me for my work space.”

  She laughed despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach. She shut her computer. “No. That’s not a good idea.” It was time to go far, far away from Cole Wiley. Before she did something she would regret later. It was too late for fantasy. She couldn’t be the wild fantasy girl, free of inhibitions when she was Big Sis Holly Reddy, home for the holidays.

  He sat up, fixed all his attention on her so she felt couldn’t breathe. “No,” she said, answering before he could ask again. “You’ll distract me.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “It won’t work.”

  He laughed. “Good. I don’t want it to. But the truth is, I have piles of paperwork waiting for me, with deadlines of my own. I’d still be working, but I was seeing double and had to take a break.” He arched a brow at her. “So you see? We both have to work. We’ll hole up by the fire and motivate each other to get our work done.”

  She laughed, and slid her computer into her briefcase. “You think we’ll motivate each other to work.” It wasn’t a question. Nothing about being with this man was going to motivate her to work. More like, motivate her to get naked and scream an “Oh God! ” two or three or ten times.

  Mischief and mayhem lurked in the depths of those brown eyes as he said, “I’m a firm believer in reward programs.”

  Heat spiraled in her core. “Rewards,” she repeated, her tongue thick with the word.

  “Rewards,” he assured her. “Would you like me to offer a few examples? Say, you complete five pages, so I—”

  Holly’s heart jackknifed as Carol approached the table. “No. No!” she cut him off. “No need for examples.”

  “Here you go,” Carol said, setting the bag on the table. “A big piece of pie for Jacob.” She pulled out her pad of paper. “You ready to order, Cole?”

  He glanced up at Carol. “This will do it,” he said, reaching in his pocket and tossing money on the table. “Just needed a little caffeine and it’s back to work for me.”

  Carol made a tsk sound. “You’re always working.” She motioned to Holly. “You should try and make him relax a little.”

  Cole arched a brow, all sexy and playful, silently challenging her to do that and more.

  Holly laughed nervously. “I’ll get on that,” she said. “Right after I write another three hundred pages.”

  Carol rolled her eyes. “What am I going to do with you two?” she asked before she scurried away as another customer called to her.

  “The real question,” Cole said, “is what are you going to do with me?”

  Rip your clothes off. Lick every inch of delicious muscle. Holly shoved those naughty little thoughts away and finished packing her bag.

  “Say good night is what I’m going to do,” she said, but she wanted a push, a reason to do the naughty, not the nice. “So good night.”

  He studied her a moment, and she could feel him sizing her up, gauging her position. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said finally. “You can follow me home.”

  There was her push. Holly’s heart exploded in her ears, and she made one last-ditch attempt to convince herself to say no. The time for fantasy had passed. It was time to focus on the here and now. But the rewards Cole had mentioned . . . perhaps the rewards would be motivational. She would type five pages, she’d have an orgasm. Another five pages, it was his turn. Oh yes, she liked that. It might be highly productive.

  “I have to get my work done,” she stated. “This isn’t negotiable.”

  A smile tugged on his lips. “Work first. Rewards later.”

  She inclined her head, satisfied he understood. Holly shoved her bag over her shoulder. “What are you waiting for?” she asked. “I thought you had a lot of work to do?”

  One sexy dimple greeted her as he pushed to his feet. His big, delicious body towered so near her, she shivered with excitement. Because soon, that big, delicious body was going to be her reward. For the first time since arriving home, she couldn’t wait to start writing.

  Chapter Five

  Not ten minutes after leaving the diner, with butterflies in her stomach, Holly stood in the foyer of Cole’s home as he followed her inside. The ranch-style home sat only a few miles from her parents’ place, and from what she could tell, it was cozy in its own right. Four stairs led from the tiled walkway of the entrance to a sunken living room. Decorated in warm browns, the overstuffed chairs and an amazingly comfy-looking couch sat before a massive rock fireplace. A big masculine desk framed the corner to the right of the hearth, with a notebook computer in the center, along with an open binder and files. If this was where they were working, it certainly was inviting.

  The door shut behind her, and Cole stepped down the hallway to join her. Holly eagerly returned her attention to Cole, watching as he set the bag with her computer on the ground—he’d insisted on carrying it inside for her. Without question, he was as much a gentleman as he was a sinful diversion, one that she was no longer going to deny herself. Though she barely recognized the woman she’d been in the front seat of that truck, wild and wanton, unforgiving in her demand for pleasure, she had found that freedom alluring. If any man could awaken that side of her, Cole was that man.

  She would have thought she’d be scared right now, afraid she wouldn’t know how to respond to Cole or live up to his expectations. But she remembered that moment in the truck, when she’d felt embarrassed, and how amazingly wonderful he’d been. So far it seemed that, with Cole, there was no right or wrong to pleasure. There was simply pleasure. That was a trend she wholeheartedly hoped would continue.

  Holly watched as Cole shrugged out of his jacket with a delicious flex of muscle and hung it on the rack beside him. Anticipation thrummed through her veins as he eased her coat from her shoulders. The coolness of the room shimmered over her skin, a contrast to the heat Cole generated within her. Her nipples tightened, her breasts grew heavy. Would Cole touch her now? Would he kiss her?

  The answer came after he’d hung her coat up. His hands settled on her light blue, long-sleeved sweater, his hips framing her backside without actually touching. The urge to lean back and feel that long, hard body pressed close was almost too much for her to resist.

  “Welcome to my home, Holly,” he whispered near her ear, his mouth nuzzling her neck for a moment before he stepped away. Her body vibrated with dissatisfaction at the loss of his nearness, and she turned to face him, finding him still close, so very close— he towered over her, his ruggedly male presence stealing her breath. Their eyes locked, the sexual tension between them riveting. One dark brow lifted in challenge. “Shall we get to work so we can earn those rewards?”

  Work. Right. Work. Her book. “Yes. Yes, let’s do that,” she said softly, thinking about the rewards with ever-growing interest.

  He retrieved her bag from the ground and motioned her forward. “Will the couch work or do you need a table?”

  “The couch works great,” Holly said as she walked down the few short stairs. “I love the sunken living room.”

  “My dad and I built my place,” he said, setting her bag down on the oversize, square coffee table. “Then about two years later, we built the one next door for my brothers to share.”

  More and more, she liked this man. His way with people. His way with family. His way with her, for that matter.

  “Sounds like you’re all very close,” she said appreciatively. She wond
ered about his mom and dad, but didn’t ask.

  He shook his head. “Yeah. We are. Losing my dad was rough. He had a heart attack a year ago.” He pulled open the iron fireplace curtains. “Mom died of cancer a year before that. Honestly, I don’t think my dad wanted to live without her.” He shoved some wood into the fireplace, arranging kindling and logs.

  “My grandmother died this past summer,” she said. “Same kind of thing. My grandfather went and she was ready to go with him.”

  Dusting his hands off, Cole reached for a long lighter, and paused with a thoughtful look. “Hard to imagine that kind of love.” He flicked the lighter to life. “But my parents certainly had it.”

  Pondering the concept of love, Holly typed in her password on her computer, while Cole finished setting the fire. Flames flickered, rich with shades of blue and red, and she lost herself in thought, wondering about that kind of love. She’d never yearned for love. Never felt incomplete without it. But lately, she had been empty inside in an unfamiliar way and assumed it was the seclusion of writing.

  Suddenly, Holly blinked and brought Cole into focus, realizing that he was sitting on the edge of the hearth, watching her.

  “It’ll be warm soon,” he said, tilting his head slightly, studying her. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  Holly glanced at his corner desk and back at him. “Wondering what you’re working on?” she asked, and silently added, And when you are going to kiss me. “Looks like you have quite a stack of papers.”

  “Oh,” he said, weariness slipping into his expression. “Yes. A never-ending pile, it seems. We just sold the family business to a Manchester firm, and they want every job we’ve ever done logged in a spreadsheet.”

  “Wow,” she said. “That’s a big step.”

  He nodded his agreement. “But not a big decision. I was ready. Most of our work was in Manchester, despite our efforts to find enough here in town, which had been our plan. The drive back and forth was killing profits and time.” He ran his hands down his powerful thighs. “Once I finish this spreadsheet, we’re done. We move on.”