A Dangerously Sexy Christmas

“I run.”

“Exercise isn’t fun. Everybody knows that.” She rolled her eyes and gave him a light shove. His biceps were rock-hard and the playful touch felt illicit.

“And what do you do for fun, Rose?”

“I watch movies,” she said. “Action movies specifically. Guns, explosions. Vintage Arnie.”

He turned to her, his brow raised. “I would never have taken you for an action-movie fan.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?” She rolled her eyes. “I drink whiskey, too. Are you shocked?”

“I pegged you for a thriller or mystery buff.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You seem like the type who’d prefer to figure out the solution to a problem than watch the good guy save the world.”

His assessment made her smile, so she didn’t give him a hard time about it. “I like playing cards, too,” she added.

“I used to play cards with my father,” Max replied.

“I thought you didn’t gamble.”

“We didn’t, not really.” For a moment his eyes drifted, a far-off look softening his features. “My mother had a box of old one-and two-cent coins that we’d use to buy-in. Winner got their choice of dessert.”

“Do you miss your parents?”

“Yes.”

Something about his tone stopped her from pressing further. Perhaps it was because she empathized with missing family. Though for her it was more that she missed the family she’d had before her parents had grown to hate one another.

“Did you really come out here to ask me about my family?”

“No.” She tilted her head and fiddled with the belt of her robe. “But I get the impression that you don’t have many people to talk to.”

“Why? Because I’m a man?”

“Touché.” A soft laugh escaped her lips. “You’re running away from something in Australia. You got all sad when you mentioned your family, and you haven’t exactly called anyone here to let them know you’re not coming home tonight.”

He swallowed, the bob of his Adam’s apple catching her attention. He pushed a hand through his hair, thrusting the overlong strands back and rubbing at the nape of his neck. She wanted those hands on her, wanted to know if they were as strong and skilled as she suspected.

“And you didn’t call anyone to reassure her that spending the night in a hotel with a woman is strictly business.”

“It is strictly business,” he said, looking into the black depths of the hotel room.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“I should recommend that Cobalt & Dane hire you,” he joked. “You’re quite the investigator.”

“Just observant.” She shrugged. “I learned to read people early on. It’s kind of a necessity when you’re around bad-tempered people.”

He frowned. “Who had a bad temper?”

“My dad.” She squared her jaw, refusing to let him see her sadness. “I learned to pick up the signs if he’d had a bad day at work. Then I steered clear.”

“Smart girl.”

* * *

A STRANGE FEELING clutched at Max’s chest as Rose sat there, her face ethereal in the light pouring in from the bedroom. He’d judged her this morning, labeled her. He’d been happy to stereotype her and move on.

That wasn’t like him at all. At one point he’d been an advocate for treating people fairly, without presumption. Now he was just as bad as those jaded cops he hated, the ones who gave all officers a bad name. Max swallowed, guilt seeping through him like a toxin.

“No one’s ever called me smart before,” she said grudgingly.

Without makeup she looked younger, more vulnerable. The bruise had deepened on her cheek, marring her otherwise perfect skin. The intruder had been able to hurt her because Max hadn’t kept her in his line of sight. He vowed then to never let that happen again.

“I’m not trying to win your sympathy,” she continued, narrowing her eyes at him as if warning him not to be kind to her. “It’s a fact.”

“I believe you.”

“I think we’re more alike than you first assumed.” She shifted on the couch and moved closer to him.

Her robe loosened, revealing a triangle of pale skin across her décolletage. The fluffy white fabric hugged the slope of her breasts, revealing the barest hint of creamy cleavage. The delicate bumps of her collar bone were exaggerated by the angle of the light; the slender length of her neck was exposed beneath her short hair.

“Do you?”

She nodded. “I think we’re two people who’ve been screwed over, who have to fend for ourselves. We don’t trust easily.”

“Are you sure you’re not a detective?”

Her words stirred something deep in his gut, a feeling that he’d packed down. Buried. Almost forgotten.

“Positive.”

“Who screwed you over?” This could be the perp. You’re not asking because you care.

“Next question,” she said with a sad smile.

“It could be helpful for the case, Rose. If there’s someone who might want to harm you...” He reached out and touched her arm.

The minute his hand connected with the robe he knew he’d made a mistake. She moved forward, her face coming closer to his. Her breath was warm on his ear, the scent of her perfume soft and gentle in the air, mingling with the scent of mint on her lips. Desire rocketed through him, unleashing the force of months of loneliness. “You won’t hurt me.” A statement, a demand.

“I’m here to protect you.” He choked the words out, the onslaught of arousal clouding his mind.

She cupped the side of his jaw and turned it until they were face to face, her thumb stroking his lips. “I want you to do more than protect me.”

He shook his head to dislodge the voice screaming yes! “It’s my job to ensure your safety. That’s it.”

“You’re not on the clock now.” Her other hand found its way to his thigh.

God, he was so hard. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans, creating a solid ridge beneath the denim. If she brushed her hand just a little higher...