Strong and Sexy Read online

  which still meant a pathetic salary but she didn’t care. She was doing what she loved, what she’d always dreamed of, and she wouldn’t apologize. “Look, have a great evening. I think I’ll just go.” And for once she was going to make an exit on her own terms. Turning, she ran smack into a solid brick wall.

  Or the chest of a man.

  He was holding two drinks, or had been holding, along with a sort of lazy wicked smile that spoke of a confidence such as she’d never experienced, and as she plowed into him, the champagne flew out of the expensive-looking flutes and right on her, splashing down the front of her off-the-rack, five-year-old little black dress.

  Her mother gasped.

  Dani’s Perfect Stranger Guy swore and began to apologize, setting down the flutes, gesturing to a waiting server for assistance, but she backed away.

  She didn’t need assistance. She needed a lobotomy for thinking she could come here and even partially fit in. Waving good-bye to her mother, nodding to the man she could happily look at forever but hoped to never see again, she moved away, more carefully this time, searching for her most direct escape route.

  The iced champagne down her front made breathing difficult. Or maybe that was just humiliation choking her. Pulling her soaked dress away from her torso, she grabbed her own flute from a passing server and tossed it down the hatch as she hobbled on. There. Maybe that would help bolster her spirits.

  And maybe Santa would really visit this year.

  Just ahead, in front of the coat check where she’d left her coat, two women glanced at her, then back at each other, exchanging a look.

  It didn’t matter what the Paris Hilton clones thought, she told herself. She was far more than anyone here saw. She knew it, and repeating it to herself, she passed them by without stopping to get her coat, forcing her head high, smile in place. It wouldn’t have fooled the mammals she trained, and it wouldn’t have fooled a single one of her friends, but it would fool people here in the Land of Fake Smiles.

  At the front doors, her fake smile faded as she stumbled to a halt.

  It was raining. Not just raining, but pouring, huge buckets of water falling out of the sky, hitting the pavement with such velocity the drops bounced back up again, nearly to her knees.

  Damn it, and she’d forgotten to get her coat.

  Turning back, she took in the party. People were dancing, talking, laughing, in general having a good time. There were several couples nearby, beneath various sprigs of mistletoe, kissing. Another couple about to kiss . . .

  She sighed. Just once, she wanted to be beneath the damn mistletoe, just long enough to boost her failing confidence. Perfect Stranger Guy came to mind, but no doubt he had women lining up holding mistletoe over his head, their pulses racing, panties already wet.

  With another sigh, she moved back to the coat check.

  “He’s the hottest man here.”

  This from one of the Paris Hiltons as the woman eyed no other than Dani’s Perfect Stranger Guy.

  “You’re going to have to fight me for him,” Paris Hilton Number Two said.

  “From what I hear, he’s ready, able, and willing. Why don’t we just share him?”

  Okay, ew. Dani moved down a hallway, thinking she’d just find a ladies’ room to give herself a pep talk, and then, hopefully, the coat check would be clear. She opened the first door she came to, which turned out to be an office. A rather lush office, with candles strewn across a huge glimmering black desk, and behind it, a gorgeous man in the desk chair wearing a Santa hat. Perfect, really. Except he was clearly already taken, presumably by the beautiful woman in the Mrs. Santa hat, straddling him.

  Whoops.

  “Noah,” the beautiful woman said with a gasp. “You didn’t lock the door.”

  “Sorry, I thought you did.”

  “Excuse me,” Dani whispered, trying not to notice that the man’s hands were up the woman’s skirt, and Ms. Claus’s hands were . . . oh boy.

  “My fault.” Dani shut the door and winced, even as a little part of her yearned. What she’d give to be in the lap of a man who couldn’t keep his hands off her. Shaking her head at herself, she kept going.

  The next door wasn’t a bathroom, but a storage closet. A big one, the shelves filled with office supplies, organized and neat.

  And then suddenly there was a hand at the small of her back as a big, tall male form squeezed in behind her.

  “Hey—”

  “Hey yourself.” Flicking on the light, he shut the door, then leaned back against it, flashing that lazy, wicked boy smile.

  Perfect Stranger Guy.

  Chapter 2

  Dani gaped at him, the man who’d seen her graceless entrance to the party, who’d witnessed her social skills, all none of them. “What are you doing?”

  “You looked like you could use a moment alone.”

  “Yes, but I’m not alone,” she said pointedly.

  He smiled.

  Her happy spots stood up and tap-danced, but her brain beat them back down.

  Then he stepped closer, and her happy spots won the battle. All around her, the closet seemed to shrink. The shelves closed in, the light dimmed, and she couldn’t see anything but this man looking at her, smiling easily, relaxed, laid-back.

  Sexy.

  Trying to be cool, she smoothed back her hair and attempted to balance on her one heel—and nearly went down. At least she caught herself before he could, at the expense of her pride.

  And her hair.

  It fell in her face and over her shoulders as one of the pencils she’d forgotten about hit the floor.

  A pencil. The one she’d shoved in at work to hold her hair off her head when she’d been vaccinating a panda. God, she was such a hopeless geek.

  Before she could beat herself up about it, he bent for the fallen pencil and handed it to her. “Yours?”

  “Um. Yeah.” Be cool. Please, be cool. “It’s a new thing. You know, a casual/formal thing—”

  At his arched brow, she sighed. “Fine. I was late and forgot to do my hair.”

  He flashed that dimple, and just like that, her other senses kicked in. Mostly the lust sense. But she cut herself some slack because he was fairly dazzling. So dazzling that her skin was feeling too tight for her bones. Or maybe that was just her dress, shrink-wrapped to her body thanks to the champagne.

  Following her thoughts, his smile faded. “I’m so sorry about the drinks. How can I make it up to you?”

  Oh, let me count the ways. “No,” she told herself.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing. Talking to myself. Bad habit.” She realized she was inviting him to think she was as nuts as her family thought her. “I mean . . .”

  “That’s okay. I talk to myself sometimes too. Look, can I get you something? Anything?”

  Confidence on tap, please. “I’m good. Wet, but good.”

  He laughed.

  She blushed. “I mean—”

  “I know what you mean.” He studied her for a moment. “You’re like a breath of fresh air, you know that?”

  She started to squirm, then stopped and looked at him right back. Was he . . . flirting with her? “How many times has that line worked for you?”

  Leaning back against the shelves, he flashed that dimple, looking fairly off the charts while doing it, but not very abashed. “Quite a few, actually.”

  She laughed. Laughed. Ask him to stand beneath the mistletoe, her body begged. She opened her mouth to do just that, just as he pushed away from the shelves and brought that leanly muscled body closer.

  Oh boy.

  His chest pressed into hers, and his arms, when he lifted them, surrounded her. Oh, God. Someone here did look at her, did see her . . . desire her.

  He was going to kiss her.

  “Oh,” she whispered, thrilled, even as her breath backed up in her throat. Yes, he was going to kiss her and she hadn’t had to ask. That was the very best kind, and she stared at his mouth. “Thank you,” she wh