by Leslie North
“Hmm,” Murphy mumbled. He looked about as comfortable as a camel on an ice rink, but she wasn’t going to let his sour mood affect her Christmas buzz. Besides, if anything could get a person into a happy place, it would have to be this shop. It reminded her of a North Pole workshop, with all the wood and handmade signs pointing to different products. Even the help were dressed as elves. A guy in a green felt hat and shoes with jingle bells on the toes offered to help them find things, but Murphy gave the guy a black look that sent him scurrying away as fast as his red and green striped legs would carry him. “Let’s just hurry up and buy something so we can get out of here.”
“Bah-humbug to you too,” Shayma said, then laughed. “C’mon. Tis’ the season.”
“The season of insanity.” He picked up a package of garish purple and silver glitter balls and wrinkled his nose. “People actually put this crap on their trees?”
“Yes.” She took the package from his hand and put it back on the shelf, choosing a more tasteful gold and silver set. “The holidays aren’t about perfection. They’re about love.”
“Yeah, right.” Murphy gave a derisive snort. “Love of the almighty dollar, maybe.”
Jaw clenched, Shayma stopped and faced him, poking one red-leather gloved finger into his chest. “Listen, bub. I know you’re upset and sad and worried that your sister is missing. I am too. But I swear if you rain all over my holiday parade I will bust out all my military-trained moves on you and take your ass down before you can say Merry Christmas. Understand?”
At first, Murphy looked a bit astonished at her words, then a spark of heat fired within his dark eyes. So, he liked things rough, did he? An answering flare of desire spread outward from her core. Shayma might not be the most experienced gal on the block, but she’d had boyfriends. And lovers. And she didn’t mind a dominant man in her bed. Nope. Not at all.
Her mind filled with images of Murphy pressing her hard up against the wall with his body, kissing her rough and deep as he pulled off her clothes, the slide of his calloused hands on her skin as he stroked her and teased her and brought her to climax again and again until, finally, he buried himself within her, so far she didn’t know where his body ended and hers began. He’d fuck her hard and fast and so, so good and…
People jostled around them and jarred Shayma back to reality. She swallowed hard, at least comforted to know that Murphy looked as flummoxed as she felt. Had he been imagining them having sex too?
Cheeks prickling with heat, she turned away and grabbed far more gold and silver garlands that they could ever possibly need and shoved them into Murphy’s unresisting arms. Quickly, she also grabbed four boxes of white twinkle lights, two more sets of glass ornaments, and a pretty mirrored and glittered star for a tree topper. They made their way back to the front of the store and through the checkout line, all while an awkward silence descended between them.
Yep. He’d been thinking about sex too. She’d bet money on it.
The thought that he wanted her as much as she wanted him both thrilled and terrified her. Murphy was hot and smart and funny. Under different circumstances, she would’ve totally gone for him. But he was also her ex’s best friend, and under a lot of added stress from his sister’s disappearance. Tough times made people say and do things they wouldn’t normally. Add in the holiday madness and there was no way she could be sure Murphy’s desire was anything more than a lusty diversion from his real-life woes. Chances were good he’d drop her like a hot potato once she slept with him and the last thing Shayma wanted was to have her heart broken again.
Okay. She handed the cashier her platinum card then waited while the transaction went through. Truthfully, she hadn’t been heartbroken over Daveed ending their engagement. That’s what happened when your parents hooked you to a guy at the tender age of six. But still. It had been an upheaval in her life and she didn’t need any more messes to clean.
And given the way her blood rushed and her breath hitched and molten heat flooded her core each time she imagined Murphy naked and wrapped around her in bed, any affair they’d have together would definitely leave her with a mess to clean up. At least on her side of things. If she’d felt even half of what thrummed through her whenever she thought of Murphy Coen for Daveed, she might’ve fought to keep him. As it was, Daveed had moved firmly into the friend zone and Murphy? Well, Murphy was quickly becoming something else entirely. Which is what scared her the most. On impulse, because buying things always made her feel better, she snagged a garish red sweatshirt from a nearby rack with a huge picture of Saint Nick on the front and added it to her pile of purchases.
“Thank you for shopping at the North Pole Emporium. Have a Merry Christmas,” the clerk said, handing Shayma back her card and several large handled shopping bags full of their decorations. Murphy took four of them which left Shayma with only two, plus her handbag. He was always polite and considerate that way, despite his churlish attitude. It was just one more thing she liked about him. His courage and loyalty and snarky sense of humor were up there too.
They headed back out onto the sidewalk and down the block to a small vendor selling fresh cut trees on the corner. Together, they picked up a small, plump Douglas Fir and this time Murphy paid for it. He even smiled at the guy who sold it to them, which both shocked and dazzled Shayma. Perhaps a bit of holiday cheer was working its magic on him after all.
Loaded down with bags and the tree, they walked the last block to Aileen’s apartment and took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Murphy handed Shayma the key and she let them inside.
“Thanks for all this,” she said as she slipped off her coat.
“Yep.” He leaned the tree in the corner of the apartment where she’d indicated, a small open space across from the bedroom area, then brushed the stray pine needles and sap from the front of his insulated plaid work shirt. “You hungry?”
She hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning and her stomach grumbled. “Guess I am.”
“Good.” He took off his knit hat and set about cutting the ropes off the tree with a pocket knife. “Let’s get this damned tree done so we can go eat.”
So much for thinking he’d gotten into the spirit of Christmas.
While Shayma began opening and laying out their purchases from the store, Murphy dug through the closet near the bathroom and found not only an old tree stand, but also a box of Aileen’s ornaments. He brought both out into the living room and set them on the floor.
“Man, I haven’t seen some of these since I was a kid.” He pulled a toy wooden soldier ornament from the box. “I remember the year I carved this in class. Seventh grade, I think.”
“Aw, it’s adorable.” Shayma knelt beside him and reached into the box to find a photo of a young Murphy and his sister, huge grins on their faces and big presents on the floor in front of them. The photo had been mounted on wood and a hook strung through the top. “Look at you.” She held it up for Murphy to see. “You couldn’t have been more than nine or ten. So cute.”
He chuckled. “That was the year my dad nearly burnt down the house trying to make us a turkey. Didn’t go well. In fact, those smiles were about the last ones any of us had that day. We ended up at some Chinese place and had duck for dinner.”
“Nice.” She pulled out the rest of the stuff from the box while Murphy got the tree set up in the stand and watered. Then they set about stringing the lights, which was usually a minor disaster in the making. But with Murphy it was fun. A couple of times they ended up nearly running into each other as they worked their way around the tree in opposite directions, meeting face-to-face in the back near the windows. The tree couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, but with the snow gently falling outside and the old memories scattered around them it felt like a winter wonderland to her.
“Pardon me,” he said, ducking around her and breaking the spell.
“Sure,” she said, watching him walk around the tree again, a string of lights in his hand. Her throat felt tight with
emotion and she wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be okay, even if it wouldn’t. Shayma finished stringing her lights, then continued on with the garland and ornaments. There was some left over and she directed Murphy on where to hang the boughs in the apartment. There was even a sprig of mistletoe in one of the bags, though she didn’t remember buying any. She hung that up over the space between the living room and the bedroom, just in case. By the time they were done, two hours had passed and she felt ravenous with hunger. They flopped down on the sofa and stared at the blank TV.
“Where should we go for dinner?” she asked. The clock on the wall in the kitchen said it was a bit after five. “Places will get crowded soon.”
“I was thinking of just grabbing a bite down by the pond in Bryant Park. The food vendors there are phenomenal and if we go now, there’s no lines.”
“Sounds great to me.”
They got ready and headed back downstairs, Shayma tired but happy and Murphy looking a bit less haggard than he had before. Maybe her plan to lighten his mood had worked after all. The light snow had cast everything in a veil of white and as they made their way to Bryant Park, Murphy pointed out different vendors or street performers with funny costumes. Shayma’s loneliness lifted for the first time since she’d come to New York. Yes, she’d made friends with Mel and there was always Daveed, but being with Murphy felt different.
Being with Murphy felt like home.
The area where the food trucks were located turned out to be a picturesque little spot that reminded her of some of the riverside areas in Paris. Same wrought iron benches, same French feeling to them. They got their food—shawarma for her, burger and fries for him—then walked over to a quaint little filigreed bench to eat. Kids were playing in the snow and people were strolling around. The bitter wind from earlier had died down now, leaving the whole space feeling like a Currier and Ives greeting card scene.
“How’s your food?” he asked around a bite of burger.
“Excellent. You were right. These people know their way around cuisine.” She took a bite of her spicy grilled lamb and veggies stuffed in pita bread. The cool cucumber sauce was the perfect foil to the zing on her tongue and brought back a much-needed taste of home. “Though my mom’s chicken recipe is still my favorite.”
“Look over there.” Murphy pointed to a spot where a crowd had gathered. Twilight was falling and in a flash the area lit up with twinkle lights and a Victorian carousel came to life. “That’s pretty cool.”
“It’s gorgeous!” She finished the last of her shawarma then tossed her trash into the bin as Murphy did the same. “C’mon. Let’s ride it.”
“Aw, I don’t know.” He dug his heels in. “It’s for the kids.”
“Says who?” She took his hand and tugged him forward. “Besides, everyone’s a kid at Christmastime.”
She dragged him over to the carousel and paid their fare then picked out two lovely horses, side-by-side, for them. Murphy, ever the gentleman, helped her up onto hers, then climbed aboard his, managing to look both reluctant and gorgeous at the same time. Shayma couldn’t help but giggle as the carousel started and they traveled in slow circles, gently rising and falling as the ride continued.
“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on one of these things,” Murphy said over the calliope music booming out from the center of the carousel. “Had to have been before my mom walked out.”
Shayma winced and reached over to lay her hand atop his. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t your fault.”
The ride jostled and she slipped sideways a bit, squeaking as she lost her balance. Murphy reacted immediately, reaching out to steady her with his hand at her waist. The movement brought them closer, so close she could feel the heat of him through her coat and see the warmth rising in his dark eyes. Sparks of awareness whooshed into a wildfire inside her and before she could think better of it, Shayma closed the tiny gap between them and pressed her lips to Murphy’s.
At first he didn’t react at all. Then, slowly, he angled his lips across hers, his tongue tracing over her bottom lip to ask for entry. She gasped at the soft caress and he took advantage, sweeping inside her mouth. He tasted of mint and vinegar from his fries and pure, masculine desire. She couldn’t get enough.
Not caring about falling now, she let go of her horse completely and wrapped her arms around his neck, angling her body over the space between them so her weight balanced on his chest.
Murphy chuckled against her lips. “Easy, darling. We got all night.”
His words somehow penetrated the passionate haze in her brain and she pulled back just as the carousel slowed to a stop. What the hell was she doing? She had no business kissing Murphy Coen, no matter how delectable he looked with his swollen lips and desire-bright eyes.
“Thanks for riding tonight, folks,” the vendor said as he brought them to a halt at the ticket counter. “And if you’d like a memento of the evening, please have a look at our special ornaments for sale next door. Thank you and happy holidays.”
Shayma recovered first and slid off her horse. Knees wobbling, she carefully made her way off the wooden platform and waited for Murphy to do the same. Neither said a word as they made their way over to the vendor stand with all manner of carousel-themed ornaments for sale. She ended up buying two, both replicas of the horses they’d rode tonight, then they started back toward the apartment again.
Along the way, they passed a group of carolers and stopped to listen for a moment. Not wanting things to be awkward between them, she searched for some safe topic of conversation and landed on the information she’d learned at the nail salon earlier.
“I wonder if that senator has anything to do with the article Aileen was writing,” Shayma said, reaching up to adjust the pink beret on her head. It must’ve gotten knocked askew during their kiss. Her lips still tingled and she felt the connection between them thrumming like a symphony. If that ride hadn’t stopped, if they hadn’t been in public, chances were good she would’ve let Murphy continue, would’ve let him take her right then and there. She shifted slightly and hazarded a glance at the silent man beside her. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s time to put this holiday nonsense aside and get back to looking for my sister.” He grabbed her gloved hand and pulled her along behind him. “Let’s go.”
4
Murphy scrolled through the Internet search engine feed looking for any clue of which senator might have visited EnKor. They’d been back for a couple of hours now and while he worked on his sister’s case, Shayma futzed around with the decorations they’d put up earlier. He did his best not to notice her as she brushed past the back of his chair, the spicy sweet scent of her perfume teasing his nose. It was damned hard though, especially after that kiss. He shouldn’t have said that on the ride. Told her they had all night like that. Truth was, they didn’t. They didn’t have anything together except one forbidden kiss and the sooner he remembered that, the better.
He exhaled slow and hung his head, squeezing his weary eyes shut. He shouldn’t have let that kiss continue to begin with. He should’ve stopped her, set her away from him, as soon as her lips brushed his. But fuck all if it hadn’t felt like a million fireworks exploding inside of him at the touch of her soft mouth to his.
Shit. Just shit.
His experience with women was vast and varied. He liked women. Liked meeting them, liked partying with them. Especially liked sleeping with them. But that was as far as it went. He wasn’t a relationship guy. He’d seen how disastrous that sort of stuff had turned out for his dad and he’d sworn never to get himself into the same situation. Therefore, he kept his women disposable. No strings. No fuss. No problems afterward. The gals he slept with always went into a night knowing the score—lots of fantastic bedplay, then a quick thanks and goodbye in the morning. End of story. Problem was, his gut told him Shayma was not a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of woman. Given that she’d bee
n engaged to his best bud and was still friends with Heath and Mel and Daveed, sleeping with her would be an enormous error on his part.
No matter how his semi-hard cock might disagree. Hell, truth was, he’d been at half-staff since that ill-advised kiss on the carousel. And every look or sigh or brush of her body against his as she fiddled with all those gaudy decorations only made him want her more.
Which was totally unacceptable. He wouldn’t be sleeping with Shayma bint Amr Kahlan. Not tonight. Not ever, if he knew what was good for him.
Murphy shook his head and tapped the keys on the laptop before him with more force than was necessary.
“What do you think?” Shayma asked from somewhere behind him. “Too much?”
Jaw clenched, he swiveled slightly to glance back at her over his shoulder. Big mistake.
Dammit.
Somewhere between the time they’d returned to Aileen’s apartment and now, she’d apparently changed her clothes, in addition to playing Martha Stewart with the damned tree. Now she stood there in the most ridiculous, most childish, most fucking alluring pair of pink flannel PJs Murphy had ever seen. They must’ve belonged to his sister, but damn if he’d ever seen them before. Strewn across the soft fabric were tiny cups of cocoa topped with frothy white marshmallows and bright red cherries.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Please help me.
Her outfit should’ve cooled his ardor faster than ice cubes down his drawers, but instead, they somehow only made his desire for her soar. Goddamn, he was in a terrible way. He looked away fast, doing his best to concentrate on the huge gold, glitter bow she’d tied out of garland and tacked above the windows. The last thing on this earth he cared about at the moment was some dumbass Christmas decorations, but staring at those was better than staring at her while his cock ached painfully against his button fly. “It’s fine.”
Shayma’s bright smile fell slightly. “That’s it? Fine is all I get?”
