Wicked Christmas Nights: It Happened One Christmas

Ross coughed into his fist, apparently surprised she’d admitted that. Maybe he was turned-off; some guys would be at the thought that a girl would wait three months before getting down to business. If so, better to find out now if he was one of them.

Why that should be, she didn’t know. After all, she might never even speak to this guy again once she left this shop. Somehow, the thought made her heart twist a lot harder than it had earlier when she’d thought about not seeing Jude anymore.

“Good for you,” he said.

Okay, so he wasn’t one of those guys, apparently. The realization warmed her a little on this very chilly day.

“Let him eat his heart out, wondering what he’s thrown away.”

She liked that idea. “I hope twenty years from now he’s still wondering if he missed out on the best sex of his life.”

Their stares locked as the heated words hung there between them. They were having a very intimate conversation for two strangers, and now, she suspected, they were both thinking a little too much about certain parts of that conversation

Like sex. Great sex. She might not have had it—great, or otherwise—but that didn’t mean she was immune to desire. Looking at the man sitting across from her, feeling the heat sluice through her veins to settle with quiet, throbbing insistence between her thighs, she knew full well she had a basic understanding of want.

Or more than basic. Because it wasn’t just her sex that was responding here. Every inch of her skin tingled as she thought of him touching her, pressing his mouth to all the more interesting parts of her body. Places that responded to the warm look in his eyes and how he opened his mouth to draw in a slow breath in a way they’d never responded to any guy’s most passionate embrace.

His gaze dropped to her mouth and his voice was thick as he finally replied, “I almost feel sorry for the bastard.”

She didn’t. And she definitely didn’t feel sorry for herself any longer. Not when, with one twenty-minute conversation, this complete stranger was introducing her to sensations her ex hadn’t elicited in months of dating.

They remained silent for one more moment. Then, as if they both realized they were falling into something neither had anticipated—at the speed of light, no less—they shifted in their chairs and broke the stare.

Lucy forced a light laugh, trying to pretend she wasn’t completely enraptured by the thought of pressing her mouth to the cord of muscle in his neck. “I’m not going to spare him any sympathy until I get my present back and make sure he didn’t destroy it.”

His gleaming eyes narrowed. “You really think he would?”

She considered it, remembered some of Jude’s more spiteful moods. Not to mention his ridiculously misplaced indignation that she’d walked in on him today—as if it were all her fault because she’d caught him, not his that he’d cheated. “It’s possible.”

Ross’s jaw clenched, a muscle flexing in his cheek. “Why don’t you let me take care of this?”

“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough to know you shouldn’t have to beg somebody who betrayed you to give you back something that’s yours.”

She heard the note of protectiveness in his voice, and found it strange. And very nice. Ross had just met her, yet he’d already been more thoughtful and considerate of her feelings than Jude had in the past three months.

“It’s not that big a deal,” she insisted, not wanting to drag somebody else into her troubles.

“It’s from your only family member, Luce,” he replied, shaking his head. “So of course it’s a big deal. I want to make sure you get it back.”

Lucy’s breath caught. The soft way he’d said the nickname, Luce, seemed so tender. And the way he’d immediately understood why the gift from Sam was important to her, without her having to explain it…

Who are you? she couldn’t help wondering. Can you really be this nice a guy?

“Do you think he’d really destroy your Christmas present?”

She didn’t like to think so, but it was possible. “He was pretty mad when I left, mainly because I wouldn’t stick around to listen to his explanation.”

“Could there have been one?”

She snickered. “Sure.” She tapped her finger on her cheek, as if thinking it over. “Hmm, okay, I have an idea how it could have, uh…gone down.”

A half smile lifted one corner of his oh-so-sexy mouth, as if he understood the reason for her inflection.

“So, his skanky neighbor was taking a bath, and she forgot she had no shampoo,” Lucy explained. “Wrapped only in a towel, she came to his door to borrow some.”

“Wait,” he interrupted. “I bet I know what happened next. It just so happens, he was about to take a shower, too, so he was also only wearing a towel.”

She giggled, wondering why she could already find this funny when it had brought tears to her eyes earlier today. More proof that her heart hadn’t ever been involved in her relationship with Jude, she supposed.

“And then…hmm. Oh, I’ve got it,” she said. “A pack of wild dogs somehow got into the building, rode up the elevator, burst into the apartment and ripped off both their towels. And in the ensuing struggle, slutty neighbor chick tripped and fell mouth first onto his sad, strange-looking little penis.”

Ross winced. “Ouch.”

“Ouch for her, or for him?”

“Well, mainly for you,” he said, that gentle tone back in his voice. “For having to witness that.” That sexy grin flashed. “But also ouch to him for having a sad, strange-looking little penis.”

“Considering it was the first—and last—time I ever saw it, I can only say I’m glad I made the decision not to sleep with him.”

“Me, too,” he admitted, sounding as though he meant it. Which was odd, considering she didn’t even know him and neither of them had any idea if they would ever share anything more than this one conversation at this one particular moment.

She hoped they would. It was fast, and utterly surprising and the timing was pretty bad. But she already had the feeling this sexy, hardworking guy was someone special. And even if the timing was all wrong, she might be the one with lifelong regrets if she didn’t at least give this more time to play out.

“So, do you always go around telling strangers about your sex life?” he asked.

She played with her coffee cup, tracing her fingers on its rim, not meeting his eyes. “You’re the first,” she admitted. Hoping she wouldn’t reveal too much, she shrugged and added, “You just don’t seem like a stranger.”

He didn’t. She felt like she was already starting to know him, or at least know the essence of him. The physical attraction had been instant. But there was so much more. Earlier, when she’d mentioned her parents, there’d been that warmth, the smile, the tender looks, that ever-so-gentle brush of his fingers against her hand. Then there was his reaction to her having been cheated on. His indignance over her lost Christmas present.

All those things told a story. A nice one. A good one.

A story she wanted to explore a little more. Or a lot more.

“Okay then, if we’re not strangers, I guess that means we’re friends,” he told her with a tender smile. Then, without explanation, he pushed the chair back and stood up. She wasn’t sure what he intended—to leave, to ask her out?—until he extended a hand to her.

“So, come on, friend. Let’s go reclaim your Christmas present.”

CONSIDERING HOW beautiful Lucy was, Ross didn’t expect her ex to be a total dog, even if he was a total dick. There had to have been something she’d found attractive about the guy. And even though he hadn’t known her long, he already felt pretty sure it hadn’t been the money. She just didn’t seem the type. There wasn’t a fake thing about her…and he should know. He’d looked. Hard.

Hell, it had been impossible not to look, not to try to get to know everything about her. Sitting across from each other at that coffee shop, they’d fallen into an easy, laid-back conversation that it had taken him a half-dozen meetings to achieve with other girls. Then things had gone from warm and friendly to hot and expectant.

He shouldn’t have started thinking about Lucy’s sex life, much less talking about it. Because it was damned hard to get it out of his mind—or to stop wondering about that look she’d had in her eye during the long silence they’d shared.

Walking outside to drop off his tools in his truck, then to the subway so they could ride up to her dopey ex’s neighborhood, he found himself more surprised by her with every move she made.

She never stopped talking, but didn’t jabber about stupid, inane stuff. He didn’t once hear the word shoes. Or makeup. Or shopping.