Anthology - The Night Before Christmas

by Foster, Mccarthy, Shalvis, Love, Garbera, Adams

  Now she was glad she'd dared, though his fingers on her, with so little barrier, felt shocking. One hand left her bottom, gliding back up her body to sink into her hair, dislodging a few carefully placed pins as he palmed her head, holding her in place while he decimated her with a kiss so deep and sensually charged, she could only whimper and let him take her where he would.

  "Mmm," rumbled from deep in his throat, the hand still on her bottom urging her closer, rocking the softest part of her to the hardest part of him. Oh, God, this felt good, so good. If she let herself think, she might have admitted it was difficult to reconcile this deep, wet, hot, shocking erotic connection with the mild-mannered Ned, the one who was so nice and kind he often let people walk all over him rather than face a disagreement or handle a contradiction.

  But she didn't think, because the rough growl that reverberated from deep in his throat made her weak. So did his sure and talented mouth, his steady and knowledgeable hands, both of which were driving her crazy. So did his mouth as it made its way to her jaw to nibble her throat. In fact, she had to clutch at him to remain standing. "You feel good."

  In an odd reaction, he went completely still for a beat, then pulled back and stared down at her, the mask covering the upper part of his face but not the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he breathed erratically.

  That's when it hit her. Ned wasn't this tall. Or broad. Or built.

  Then she caught the glittering of his eyes. Not dark brown, but … steely, stormy gray. Oh, my God.

  Not Ned. Not Ned, but— Reaching up, way up, she grabbed his mask. She wasn't tall enough to yank it off over his head, so she pulled it down and stared into those glittering eyes. "You."

  "Me," Matt agreed utterly without repentance or apology.

  Stepping back in horrified, humiliated shock, she came up against the window just as his mask, caught by its elastic string, slapped him in the chin.

  Without a word, he ripped the thing off and stepped toward her.

  "Don't," she choked out, her every nerve ending still pulsing with hopeful pleasure. She lifted a hand to hold him off, but he just took her fingers in his and came up against her, trapping her between the window and his body.

  The window was icy cold. But not Matt. Nope, his hard body radiated heat and strength as he cupped her jaw until she was looking him right in the eyes. "Well, that took me by surprise," he murmured.

  "What are you talking about? You knew exactly who you were kissing!"

  Yeah, but I didn't expect to be leveled hat by it. "You expect me to believe that you were laid flat? You, the man who's kissed every single woman in a hundred-mile radius?" God, she was a fool. She'd known better, a small part of her had known from the moment he'd touched his mouth to hers—Ned would never have taken her like that, kissing hard and deep and unapologetically fierce—but her body had surged with such heat and need, and a desire so strong, she was still shaking from it.

  And yet, the pathetic truth was, Matt had just been playing with her. It burned, she could admit, and burned deeply. All her life, she'd been the outcast. She'd been a chunky, nonathletic, clumsy kid in a house full of lean, coordinated, beautiful people. She hadn't improved much as a teenager, and though her frenetic exercise and dieting had finally worked, leaving her much fitter now, the stigma had never left her. Inside, she was still the left-out, laughed-at, fat kid, the girl who was the object of a wager among the boys of the varsity basketball team—the winner was to be the first boy who could get a pair of her "granny panties" to hang as a prize in their locker room—the woman who even now men tended to keep their distance from.

  The remembered humiliation still burned.

  She heard the footsteps coming and turned toward the doorway just as another man appeared, also in a tux. Mask in hand.

  Ned.

  And in that flash, from a distance of twenty-five feet or more, Cami wondered how she could have ever mistaken the two men. Ned wasn't as tall or built as Matt, instead a comfortable height for looking straight into his eyes, a nonthreatening bulk that brought to mind a scholar rather than a tough boxer or basketball player, as Matt's physique did.

  And that wasn't the only difference between them.

  There was the fact that the nice, kind, sweet Ned would never have taken advantage of a dark night and a mask, kissing a woman simply because the opportunity presented itself.

  "Sorry I'm late," he said, and moved into the room, eyeing Matt inquisitively. "Tarino."

  "Kitridge." Matt turned back to Cami. "Enjoy the ball."

  Enjoy the ball? She'd enjoy kicking his butt, that's what she'd enjoy, but before she could tell him, he was gone.

  When they were alone, Ned smiled curiously at her but, true to form, didn't ask. There was no reason why that should annoy the hell out of her, but it did. Her dress was wrinkled across the front where she'd been mashed against Matt, her hair was half up and half down thanks to his busy fingers, her mouth was still wet from his.

  And Ned didn't appear to think anything of it. Frustrated, she grabbed her mask from the window seat and went to move past him, noticing that his tux was wrinkled, too—sort of endearing, really—and that his shoes—

  Oh, my God.

  His shoes were still black leather, identical to the ones Matt had worn, and still identical to the ones in the bathroom stall from earlier. Lifting her gaze to Ned's face, she was further disconcerted to find him blushing slightly. His usually perfectly groomed hair was standing up on end, and he still wasn't meeting her eyes. "You're late," she said slowly. "But you're never late. You're wrinkled, but you're never wrinkled. You're blushing, your hair is a mess…" She stared into his guilty eyes. "It was you in the bathroom. You've been making out with someone else."

  Ned shifted from one foot to the other, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Technically, it's not someone else, if you and I have never made out."

  "But…" No, she refused to ask why not her, why it was never her.

  "I'm so sorry." His voice was rough with the apology she hadn't gotten from Matt. "I didn't want to hurt you."

  "Wait." She couldn't think. Funny how her brain could work on an entire city plan, formulating for population and roads and more, and yet now, here, she couldn't process a thought. This wasn't supposed to happen this way. He was the office geek. She was the prize here!

  "Cami, Jesus." He squirmed. "I don't know what to say. It's just that you…" He lifted a shoulder. "You scare me."

  "What?"

  "And Belinda—"

  "Belinda. Belinda Roberts?" The daughter of the ex-mayor and a city mail clerk? Who was still in college and giggled when a guy so much as looked at her?

  "She's sweet and caring," Ned said defensively.

  Which, apparently, Cami was not.

  "She makes me cookies," he said. "Oatmeal raisin, because of my cholesterol."

  Cami could have done that. Probably. If she'd even known he had cholesterol issues.

  And if she'd known how to work her oven.

  "She doesn't argue or disagree with me at work," Ned said. "Or make me feel as if my ideas are stupid."

  "I don't—" But she did. She couldn't help it. Many of his ideas were stupid. And she had little to no tolerance for stupidity.

  "I'm really sorry," he said again, softly, with surprising thoughtfulness. "I really didn't intend for you to find out like this. I wanted to come here and talk to you like adults."

  "Right," she said. "Because adult is screwing the file clerk in the women's bathroom."

  "Again, very sorry." He looked desperate for a change of subject. "I intended to tell you tonight, but then I found you in here with Matt. What did he want anyway?"

  "Uh…" Ms. Pot, meet Mr. Kettle. "Nothing." If nothing meant the hottest, wildest kiss she'd ever experienced.

  "Okay, then. Well…" More shuffling, this time accompanied by a longing look at the door. "I hope this isn't going to be awkward."

  She just laughed.

  Ned's flush lit up the
dark. "You look really great tonight. Your dress—"

  "You can go now, Ned."

  "Thank you." In a cowardly blink he was gone. Men. Cami kicked a file cabinet closed as she left.

  It turned out Cami was grateful for the masked part of the ball after all—who'd have thought—because it allowed her to stay virtually "hidden" for the hour she forced herself to stay and smile and make nice. Trying to forget the kiss, she danced with Adam and Ed from her department, and she danced with eager-beaver Russ from the Permit Department, though surely her feet would never recover. She danced with a few others as well, mostly because it meant less talking.

  And then she made her escape, leaving the festivities that had been meant to boost everyone's low morale. She drove home reliving the mortifying portion of the evening. In her quiet condo, she decided to grow from the experience. And then she buried herself in the work she'd brought home because, as it turned out, work was all she had.

  The next morning, she went into her office early, and to protect herself, she put a sign on her door that said STAY OUT OR DIE.

  But apparently the new mayor couldn't read because half an hour later, Matt stuck his head in, wearing one of those wicked smiles that had always annoyed her in the past but that now inexplicably scraped at a spot low in her belly.

  "Hey," he said. "Busy?"

  Just looking at him reminded her of last night. Of his bone-melting, heart-stopping kiss. Of how he'd held her as if he could do nothing else. How he'd gotten hard and rocked her hips to his. She'd dreamed about that part in particular, damn it, and remembering brought the heat to her face. She shouldn't be picturing the mayor with a hard-on. She especially shouldn't get hard nipples at picturing the mayor with a hard-on. "If I say yes, I'm busy, will you go far, far away?"

  His grin spread.

  Good God, could the guy be any more gorgeous? Or annoying? Or sexier? Now it wasn't just her nipples going happy, but things were happening between her thighs, too. "Didn't you read the sign?"

  "Yes." He pulled a pen out of his pocket. Clicked it on. Eyed her with a mischievous lecherousness.

  "Don't even think about it," she warned, gritting her teeth when he underlined the stay out part. Then shut the door—with him on the wrong side.

  He smiled.

  She did not. But she wanted to, damn him, so she got up, walked around her desk, and reopened the door, silently inviting him to leave.

  "Ah," he said. "Someone forgot to eat her Wheaties this morning."

  "And someone forgot he was an ass—"

  "Still mad, I see." He nodded as if this was perfectly acceptable to him. "How long do you plan on pouting?"

  She gaped. "I am not pouting. I never pout."

  "Then what's this?" He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, which was indeed thrust out petulantly.

  The touch electrified her, and she struggled with her reaction. If his expression went smug, she was going to have to kill him.

  But he didn't look smug at all. He looked as shocked as she felt.

  In the startled silence, a woman walked by her office. Danielle was a city clerk but looked like a stripper, and when she saw Matt, she stopped and smiled. "Hey there, big guy. Nice dancing with you last night." She made some promises with her bedroom eyes and body language before moving on.

  "Big guy?" Cami shook her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Please just go away."

  "Yeah." He looked at her for a long moment. "But only because I have three meetings, all scheduled at the same time."

  "I'm in two of them with you. Oh, and I hope you ate your Wheaties because at the first one, for the proposed amendments to the town plan? I'm planning on nailing you."

  His eyes heated. "Promise?"

  She felt her insides quiver at his expression. "Get out."

  "Okay, but first I wanted to talk to you about last night."

  "No. No way."

  "I had some trouble sleeping," he said, all kidding aside. "I was thinking maybe you did, too."

  "Slept like a baby." Yeah, if babies had wet dreams.

  "You slept like a baby," he repeated.

  "You betcha."

  He didn't believe her. "Then why are you in such a big hurry to get rid of me?"

  "Because I don't like you."

  He grinned. "Liar."

  "Oh, just get out!" To make sure that he did, she shoved him, then closed the door firmly on his grinning face.

  She felt her own reluctant smile and was just glad she'd shut the door before he could see it. The last thing she needed to do was egg him on.

  "You still there?" he asked through the door.

  "Where else would I be?"

  "Just wondering if you've managed to bite back your smile yet."

  She threw her pen at the door, then rolled her eyes at his soft laugh.

  The next day, the local newspaper broke a story on one of the public officials in the Public Works Department It turned out the official had once been charged with extortion in Florida, a charge no one here had known about.

  The article went on to raise the question of whether such a thing could happen right here in Blue Eagle.

  The official resigned, leaving everyone in every department unsettled and nervous. Cami's haven—work—had become a nightmare.

  In a hastily called meeting, Matt stood before all of them, cool and calm, effectively outlining a plan of attack to face the public and an inner plan of attack to find out what the hell was going on. Afterward, he stayed around talking in his easy way, making everything seem okay, when Cami knew it wasn't.

  She had to admire how he handled himself, how he eased everyone's mind with just a few words. Which didn't explain why she didn't feel eased, but … revved. Every time she inadvertently caught his eyes, her body hummed and zipped, like it had when he'd touched her. She was a walking-talking live wire, and any minute now she was going to snap. It was hard to maintain her composure like that, but she was the master of control, so she managed to fake it.

  After the meeting, she stood in the break room, waiting for the coffee to brew, ignoring the mistletoe some poor sap had hung over the doorway in hopes of getting lucky. To keep her hands busy, she was compulsively straightening up, putting the filters and mugs in their places, refilling the pitcher of drinking water on the counter. Not that it would all stay that way, but the motions calmed her. Organizing always did.

  It was the kiss that was unnerving her, she knew that. Just thinking about it infuriated her because there were so many other things to be obsessing over—the newest scandal, the fact that there were only two shopping days left until Christmas, that she didn't have a boyfriend to shop for…

  She poured herself coffee and stood there stirring it wishing things could be different. But Matt had only been playing with her, she knew that. She must have just imagined how good it'd been, how hot—

  "I could show you again."

  With a gasp, she lifted her head and looked into Matt's amused, aroused eyes.

  "Yeah," he told her. "You said it out loud."

  Groaning in embarrassment, she brought her hands up to her hot cheeks, but he pulled them away. "Don't," he said in that voice that Cami was certain could coax a nun out of her virginity. "Let me show you that you didn't imagine a thing."

  "No. No way."

  "Okay, then." His hands slid to her hips, and her body quivered hopefully. "Then how about you prove me wrong?" he murmured, and pulled her close.

  Chapter Four

  It was sick of him, he knew, but Matt loved the way he could shake Cami's composure. Loved even more the way she shoved her nose so high in the air she became in danger of getting a nosebleed.

  "Don't be ridiculous," she said in a frosty voice he was coming to realize meant her control was slipping as well. The interesting thing was she didn't push him away. "I'm not going to kiss you again just to prove there's nothing between us." She added a laugh that didn't fool him any more than her voice had. "We're grown-ups. We're professionals. We're
—"

  "Hot for each other," he said.

  When she only glared at him, he laughed. "You know I'm right. Come on, admit it. You're dying to kiss me again. You're thinking about it. Hell, you're talking to yourself about it—"

  "I am not going to dignify that with a response."

  Leaning in until their noses nearly touched, he grinned right into her eyes. "I double-dog dare you."

  "Please," she said with a sniff. "I don't feel the need to take every single dare that comes my way."

  "Then I win by default."

  Steam nearly came out of her ears at that, which was fun, too. So was the sparkle of life in her eyes. Never mind that it was an angry sparkle—he liked it. He liked her.

  A lot, as he was discovering.

  Then, the break room door opened. Adam walked in, took one look at the two of them in such close proximity, and raised a brow as he reached for a mug. "I didn't realize you two guys were knocking it out."

  Matt went from amused to pissed, and so did Cami by the looks of her.

  "Probably it's why you approved Cami's open-space amendment for North's Landing," Adam said, oblivious. "Too bad I don't have a vagina, or I could get my own agenda passed, too."

  Before Matt could say a word past the red haze now blocking his vision, Cami stepped toe-to-toe with Adam, tipping her head back to glare into his eyes. "Watch out," she said very quietly. "Your knuckles are dragging."

  Adam snorted as he walked past her and sat at the employee lunch table. "All I'm doing is calling it like it is. Now I know all I have to do is sleep with Matt."

  Matt took a step toward him, not exactly sure what he was planning on doing, but his fingers itched to encircle Adam's neck. Cami beat him to it, picking up the pitcher of water on the counter and emptying it into Adam's lap.

  Adam yelped and surged to his feet, doing the cold-water-in-the-crotch dance.