by Jill Shalvis
By the time she reentered the party, Matt stood by the tree, the Santa costume gone. How did he get rid of it so fast? And why? When she caught his eye, she could only stare, still amazed by the connection they’d shared.
“Good evening.” His voice was perfectly calm. Almost asleep calm.
Catatonic calm.
“It looks as though nearly everyone showed up tonight,” he said.
How could he sound so…so normal? With one kiss he’d leveled her, and yet he stood there as if it’d been no big deal.
Was it possible he hadn’t felt what she had?
And how humiliating was that?
“Matt, about what just happened—”
He looked at her blankly. “What just happened?”
“Exactly,” she said, nodding. “About that—”
“Excuse me?”
“No, excuse me,” came a low, husky male voice that made Katie’s entire body tighten.
Bryan Morgan.
Head pilot and local daredevil. He was the hero of every man at Wells Aviation, and the center of every woman’s fantasy.
Every woman but Katie. He was a jump-off-the-cliff type of guy, far too similar to her daredevil father who had gotten himself killed when she was just a teenager. As a rule she steered clear of him, though the reasons were so complicated she didn’t often allow herself to think about them.
Especially now, when he was smiling at her, a wide, devastatingly charismatic smile that would have melted any other female in the room.
“You look lovely,” he said, which was funny only because he was tall, leanly muscled, rugged, and the most gorgeous man ever to walk the planet, and he thought she, plain-Jane Katie, looked lovely. Right.
“Thank you,” she said politely, pointedly turning away from him back to Matt. Darn it, she wanted to talk about their kiss.
“And the decorations,” Bryan said, a small smile in his voice. “So tastefully done.”
Great. He liked the decorations. Now could he just go away? She had a kiss to discuss!
“Especially all that strategically placed mistletoe,” Bryan added, and Katie finally went still, giving him her one-hundred-percent undivided attention.
“What?” she whispered, her heart all but stopping.
Bryan just looked at her, his brilliant blue eyes innocent. And hot. Now she realized that was a complete contradiction, but it happened to be true. Something deep down within her unfurled, hesitated. “What did you just say?” she asked again.
He merely smiled. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
2
BRYAN MORGAN threw his plane into a spin, acknowledging he had about ten seconds to pull himself out if he wanted to live.
Nine…eight…
The image of last night’s party floated through the haze in his mind. There’d been plenty of loud talking and even louder music, reminding him of his huge family. Growing up with six older sisters, there hadn’t been a lot of quiet, or alone time. So he had a fine appreciation of both. Because of that, he liked his parties a lot more intimate and personal…but there had been one redeeming factor last night. A surprising one.
A woman. Now, Bryan loved women, he really did. All shapes and sizes. But in his mind, he already had a permanent force of at least seven in his life, if he counted his mother as well as his sisters. All of whom had bossed, charmed, coaxed and threatened their way for each of his thirty-two years. And since they showed signs of living another half a century at least, it wasn’t often Bryan allowed another woman to play a serious role in his existence.
In fact, it was downright rare. Oh, he dated. Often. But things were always on a walk-away basis.
Always.
And yet last night he’d held Katie and his heart had sort of fumbled. Warm, vital, sweet, funny Katie, with her soft, wavy, whiskey-colored hair that matched her whiskey-colored eyes, eyes in the past that had always looked at him so aloofly.
Seven…six…
She’d looked amazing in that shimmery red dress. Who would have thought? He’d even dreamed of it, the way it had fallen over her curvy little body and trim thighs. So different from her usual prim-and-proper business attire, which suited her accounting position, but not the heat and passion he knew lurked just beneath her surface.
Well, to be fair, he didn’t know for certain she had heat and passion beneath her surface, he’d known her all year and hadn’t been able to tell…until last night.
In spite of the force of gravity pulling his face into a grimace, he managed a grin. Because now he knew, oh yeah, he definitely knew.
Five…four… But what he didn’t know was why she seemed so wary of him. Over the years he’d caused a lot of feelings in women, most of them pretty good, some of them not so good, but never once had he caused wariness.
Three…and the plane continued to spin. So did his head, bringing his thoughts back to the task at hand.
Now was not the time to be daydreaming about things that would drain the rest of the blood from his head to parts south.
He needed his wits.
He was good at flying, really good, and it wasn’t cockiness that told him that, but fact. Yes, he was confident, but then again, a good pilot had to be, and Bryan was nothing if not a good pilot.
Two… He hoped they were getting the shot they needed below, that the cameras hadn’t failed as they had earlier because he really didn’t think he could pull off this particular stunt any better than he just had.
It was the perfect ride, glorious blue skies, not a cloud in sight and…
One. Just a flash second before hurtling both him and a very expensive plane into the ground, he pulled out of the spin and shook his head slightly to clear it.
“Got it?” he asked into his headset.
“Holy cow!” Ritchie yelled into Bryan’s ear. “Holy, ace, that was absolutely amazing!”
“Gee, guess you got it.”
“You’re wasting your talents taxiing the rich and famous in expensive airplanes, you should be doing stunts all the time.”
Ritchie Owens was a Hollywood producer. That’s what he told women, anyway. Mostly he did beer commercials. The stunt Bryan had just pulled off would be shown in an adventurous, exciting, quick-paced, filled with loud music ad spot designed to raise a man’s thirst.
Or so he supposed.
Bryan didn’t really care; it gave him an excuse to fly, and to fly with abandon, and that was all that mattered to him. “I don’t taxi people. I run a charter company.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Still a waste.”
Bryan didn’t bother to correct Ritchie. He didn’t feel any particular need to defend himself, not when he truly did love his work. In his opinion, he had everything he would ever need, and Ritchie, all four and a half feet of him, driven by the materialistic meter of success of the film industry, would never understand.
“God, that was fantastic.” Ritchie was clearly ecstatic. “The best I’ve ever seen! We’re gonna get tons of feedback from this one, ace. Tons. I feel it in my bones.”
Bryan remained silent as he easily circled and came in for his landing. The sun was at his back, the wind was with him. On top of the world, he took a deep breath, as always awed by the glory of being in the air.
No problems, no stress. Life was everything he wanted, everything he made out of it.
But inexplicably, that wasn’t the case today. And if he was being honest, something he always was to a fault—just ask any of his past girlfriends—he had to admit it had everything to do with last night.
The Christmas party.
And the surprise Christmas kiss.
It’d been a helluva great gift. Admittedly, the gift giver hadn’t meant to give him the kiss, but he’d tried to tell her he wasn’t who she thought he was, hadn’t he?
Well…maybe he hadn’t tried very hard.
Maybe he hadn’t managed to say anything except her name, but he was only human. And yeah, maybe a better man might have told her the truth right th
en and there, but he wasn’t out for any hero awards.
He just wanted the girl.
He’d been momentarily stunned into meathead status when Katie had touched her warm lips to his, not to mention dizzy as hell from those stupid Santa glasses he’d been wearing.
He still had a headache from them.
And anyway, what was a woman doing even thinking of kissing a guy as boring and predictable as Matt Osborne? It was a crime, in his humble opinion, a total crime.
Bryan completed his landing without incident, tied the plane down on his own even though there was a staff of linemen waiting to assist as there always was, and also a film crew who’d paid to use the tarmac for the morning. He tipped his head to stare at the sky.
“Already yearning to be back up there?”
He recognized the female voice and braced himself.
“We have a great staff, you know.” Holly, who’d come up behind him, managed to casually brush her long, lithe, very toned body against his. “Why do you always insist on doing everything yourself?”
Seemed silly to tell her the truth, when she didn’t care about the truth. What she cared about, what she’d cared about for the entire two weeks since she’d come to this place as the new office manager, was getting action.
Man action.
Apparently he was the man.
“Do you do all your own handling because you like to sweat?” Holly wondered, circling him until she was in front of him, smiling with all the innocence of a shark. “Or because you like the way all us silly females melt over you when you do?”
“Oh, definitely, it’s because I like to sweat.”
She laughed softly. “So big and tough.”
“You should see me after I wash the plane.”
His light sarcasm was a wasted effort. She merely smiled. “You’re so exciting, Bryan. How did you manage to keep all those tipsy women off you last night? It wouldn’t have anything to do with the…Santa costume?”
“I thought my being Santa was a secret.”
Holly arched a brow and let out a mysterious smile. “Whoever told you that?”
“You know who. You. I got your note that Matt would be late and couldn’t do it, so you needed me to do it, and to keep it quiet about it.”
“Oh, that note.” She purred and lowered her lashes. “I suppose I owe you now.”
Oh, boy. “No. Consider that a freebie.” Besides, he’d gotten his reward.
“A freebie?” Holly pursed her lips. “You wouldn’t, by any chance, have gotten…lucky with that costume last night, would you? Maybe lucky with a certain accountant who thought you were…oh, I don’t know, a certain vice president?”
Ah, now it made sense. He’d been set up. “You were responsible for that?”
“You’re giving me far too much credit,” she said serenely, studying her manicure. “And besides, everyone knows, Matt was supposed to be Santa.”
“Yes,” he said patiently. “But Matt wasn’t Santa. I was.”
“Right. So if a mistake was made—” she lifted her shoulders and sent him a guileless smile “—then…oops.”
“You told her Matt was in the costume, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what, exactly?”
“Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy that kiss?”
“Okay, let’s do this another way. Does she or does she not now know the truth?”
“Not.” Holly grinned. “Are you kidding? Prim-and-proper accounting Katie kissing the wild, reckless, rowdy, untamable Bryan Morgan? She’d have a coronary. She definitely doesn’t like guys like you.”
“She’s not all that prim and proper.”
Holly bent at the waist and burst out laughing. “Do tell.”
Bryan gave up and started walking toward the first of three hangars that made up Wells, knowing he had exactly one hour to take care of his paperwork before chartering a flight that would keep him out of the airport for the rest of the day.
Without a doubt, he was going to have to put that kiss right out of his head. Yes, the little accountant kissed nice, so what? She didn’t like guys like him, so what? He didn’t care, not when there were plenty of other women in the sea.
That he hadn’t been looking was another matter entirely, he told himself. Between work and his loving but demanding family, he’d been busy, and hadn’t needed the additional complication. And he knew all too well, women were definitely a complication, no matter how sweet yet sexy their light, expressive whiskey eyes were.
With that in mind, he made it to the hallway outside the postage-stamp-size office he rented from Wells, when he heard a very familiar voice.
“Matt? Matt, I know you’re in there.”
Katie.
Katie back in her dull business suit with the too long skirt and the too full blazer so he couldn’t so much as catch a glimpse of that lush body he now knew she had, knocking on the closed door of Matt Osborne’s office.
She should look unappealing, but she didn’t, not at all. Instead, she looked…huggable.
Damn, what was that about?
He attributed it to knowing that she kissed like heaven, and smelled like it, too.
Then Matt opened his office door and smiled absently at her. “Yes?”
She bit her lower lip, clearly expecting a different reaction. “I wanted…to talk about last night.”
“The party?” Matt seemed surprised.
The nitwit had no idea what he’d missed. Bryan supposed there should be some guilt associated with that, but there wasn’t.
“I thought it went really well,” Matt said, then stole a quick glance at his watch. “Oh, look at that. I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go. I have a report to finish.”
With an apologetic smile, he turned away to shut the door.
“But—” Katie’s smile seemed forced, even to Bryan who was still a good way down the hall from them. “It’s just that…the mistletoe…”
“Mistletoe?” Matt shrugged. “I noticed plenty of the stuff scattered all around. The decorations were superbly done. Nicely and strategically placed.”
“Yes,” Katie agreed. “Strategic.”
“It’s got to come down though, or we’ll have people taking advantage of it during office hours.” His brow wrinkled. “Hmm…maybe I’d better write a memo.”
“A memo,” Katie repeated. “Remove the mistletoe to avoid mass orgies during work hours.”
Matt nodded distractedly, and after a quick goodbye, closed the door in her face.
Clueless jerk, Bryan decided, even as he was oddly grateful for clueless jerks.
Katie just stood there. “Well wasn’t I ever so memorable,” she muttered.
More than memorable, babe. “Morning,” Bryan said.
Katie nearly leaped right out of her skin and whipped around to stare at him. “What?”
“I said, ‘Morning.”’
Her face was pale now. “Say it again.”
Bryan wondered if his voice was confusing her. After all, he had spoken last night. But people heard what they wanted to hear, and she’d definitely wanted to hear Matt’s voice.
She blinked.
“Morning,” he said again, obliging her.
She shook her head. “I should have had some coffee.”
And he should tell her the truth. Should being the key word here. “You were asking about the mistletoe,” he said. “Is there something I can help you with?” Like maybe kiss you again?
She didn’t answer, just narrowed her eyes.
“Is anything wrong?”
“Your voice…it sounds…”
“Familiar?” He grinned, he couldn’t help it. “Well, it should. We work together.”
“Right.”
Poor baby looked so confused. His conscience, never the most righteous of creatures, reared its head for a moment.
A very short moment.
Because he knew if he came clean right then, she would either deny that the kiss had knocked h
er socks off, or she’d run like hell.
Neither appealed.
Not when his goal for the day had suddenly become to get another. “About that mistletoe,” he said casually. “I bet it’s still in the hangar. We could just walk on over there and—”
“No,” she said quickly, backing away. “I’m…busy. Very busy.”
He obviously made her nervous. He tested this theory by taking a step toward her.
Sure enough, she retreated…right into a file cabinet, which she hit with a loud thunk. The two flowerpots above teetered wildly, then fell. She caught one, then the other, and quickly set them down on the ground, whirling back to him with her hands behind her back as if she didn’t trust herself.
She had a streak of dirt across one cheek. She looked unsettled. And adorable. He had no idea why that appealed, he’d certainly never been attracted to adorable before. Long-legged, full bottom-lipped sexpots, yes. Adorable, no.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly when he came toward her. “I’m just fi—” The word ended in a gasp when he took her arms in his hands to steady her.
They were now in exactly the same position they’d been in last night, nose to nose, thigh to thigh.
“You—you have blue eyes,” she said inanely. “When did that happen?”
“At birth, actually.” He grinned. “Let me guess, you hate blue eyes.”
“No, I—” Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and in a totally innocent gesture, she licked her dry lips.
Bryan nearly groaned, but managed to hold it together because he had a huge advantage—she might not know how good they’d be together, but he did. Dammit, what a dilemma, because despite himself, he never, ever took advantage of women.
Well, almost never.
“About that mistletoe…” he murmured.
“No! No, it was a bad idea! A stupid idea. A really idiotic—”
“I get the picture.” He tipped his head to one side because her hands had come up between them to grip his shirt, whether to push him away or to keep him close, he had no idea. “You don’t strike me as much of a risk taker.”
“Absolutely not,” she said quickly. Too quickly.
He smiled, because last night, for whatever reason, she’d done exactly that, she’d dropped her reserve and had made the first move on a man. On him.
