The Christmas Set-Up Read online

  She’d told herself she’d done it only for her own enjoyment, so she wouldn’t get sad about not getting to Quincy. But when she was finished and standing in the center of the living room, enjoying the ambience, she realized she hadn’t done it for herself at all.

  She’d done it for Jason.

  So who was the liar now?

  God. She scrubbed a hand over her eyes and tried to clear her mind, but it wouldn’t clear. Instead, it was stuck replaying those few moments hours ago, when she’d been in Jason’s arms. She was staring into the flickering flames, but all she could see was the look on his face as he’d emptied himself into her, his head thrown back, the muscles corded in his throat, groaning her name.

  Confused and aroused and angry at herself all over again, she got her bag and pulled out her laptop. She plugged in Jason’s memory stick, brought up her design program and went to work. And for the first time in two weeks, her brain kicked into gear. Probably because the alternative activity—climbing into bed with Jason—was an even more terrifying prospect than not having a design for the Weller project.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JASON WOKE AT SOME POINT just past dawn and lay perfectly still, taking stock of his situation. The bedroom was warm, which was strange since he’d never gotten around to starting a fire. His neck and shoulder weren’t sending a stab of pain through him with each heartbeat, which he took as a good sign. He tested himself by carefully shifting.

  An ache answered. And a twinge. But compared to the stabbing pain of the night before, he was ready to go. Maybe not mountain biking, but he could probably put on his own socks today, so that was a bonus.

  The hot bath the night before had helped.

  So had Zoe’s massage.

  And the orgasm…that had been a very unexpected bonus. The image of Zoe riding him to her own pleasure was one he wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon. In fact, just thinking about it made him wish she was still here.

  And not just for sex, although he wouldn’t turn it down. The truth was, he’d enjoyed her company.

  A lot.

  Who’d have thought that the woman who’d been dogging his tail at the firm, chasing his dream, even beating him at his own game was not just a challenge but someone he wouldn’t mind getting to know better.

  Groggy as hell, he staggered into the bathroom and took a shower. Not a morning person, he used all the hot water in the hopes it’d wake him up, but it didn’t happen. The only thing that could possibly save him was coffee. He’d give his left nut for coffee.

  Which he’d forgotten to bring or buy.

  Still in the bathroom, he pulled up the protective shades on the small window. “Holy shit,” he said, stunned to find that a foot of snow had fallen overnight. His car was covered.

  As was a second car, next to his. What the hell? He left the bathroom and entered the living room, stopping in shock in the doorway.

  There were lights. Lots of lights, blinking in bright colors. And were those…balls hanging from the rafters? Yes. Yes, those were indeed balls, in red and gold. And the tinsel. Christ, the tinsel would take him hours, if not days, to get rid of.

  His gaze slid to the couch and the woman slowly sitting up.

  “Hi,” Zoe said, voice morning thick. She didn’t quite meet his eyes as she attempted to pat down her hair.

  It’d broken free of its clip and appeared to have rioted, floating around her face and shoulders like a fiery red cloud. He could have told her not to bother trying to control it. He happened to like the way it caught the lights and glimmered under them, but knew if she glimpsed herself in the mirror, she wasn’t going to feel the same way.

  But none of her crazy and utterly unintentional sexiness could take away from the fact that she’d decorated.

  “Do you ever wear clothes?” she asked.

  He looked down at himself. Once again he was wearing only a towel. “Wait right there.” He vanished into the bedroom, where he rifled through his duffel bag and came up with a pair of Levi’s and a long-sleeved Henley. His feet were still bare, but his neck was giving him twinges again and he wasn’t going to move more than necessary. He left the bedroom and went straight to the couch, which was now empty of one Zoe Anders.

  Turning in a circle, he saw she’d gone into the bathroom. He could hear the shower running, and went to warn her that he’d just used all the hot water. He lifted his hand to knock, but suddenly there was a feminine screech of shock and outrage.

  With a grin, he let his hand fall to his side. Served her right, Ms. Decorating Queen. He was still staring at the living room, the sparkling, twinkling living room, when she came out of the bathroom.

  She was wearing a bright red hoodie, trimmed in white with two tassels that bumped against her gorgeous breasts, and a zipper that went right between. His first thought was to take the tab of the zipper between his teeth and tug down. But that might have been his early-morning erection doing his thinking for him. Her black leggings were nice, too, emphasizing those mile-long legs that he wouldn’t mind having wrapped around him again. But the fantasy was hard to put together with all the blinking lights.

  “I didn’t get far on the road,” she said. “It was snowing really hard and my tires—”

  He tore his eyes away from the lights. “Are you okay? Did you spin out?”

  “No, nothing like that.” She grimaced. “Okay, that was a lie. I slipped once or twice, got scared and came back.” She grimaced again. “Okay, that was another lie. I came back because I wanted to.” She nibbled on her lower lip as her gaze took him in from head to toe and then back again, lingering at the bulge just behind his button fly. When her tongue darted out and ran over her bitten lower lip, that bulge twitched. “But then when I got here, I didn’t think waking you up was wise,” she murmured.

  Truer words had never been spoken. “But decorating was?”

  “You like it?” she asked, eyeing the place with unmistakable pride. “No one should celebrate the season without a little cheer, so…um, happy cheer.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her how he felt about the over-the-top, gaudy decorations and the stupid holiday, but she was smiling. A real smile, too, not her work smile or her I-think-you’re-such-a-schmuck smile. It was a genuine show of humor and warmth, directed at him. He actually got dizzy from it. There she stood, looking sweet and adorable and unintentionally sexy as hell. He forced a smile. “It’s…bright.” He angled away to give himself a moment, and that’s when he saw it. She’d turned the plant in the corner into a Christmas tree.

  A Charlie Brown Christmas tree…

  She came up at his side, still smiling. “Isn’t it cute? And look.” She pointed to the fireplace, which had been burdened with both flickering lights and tinsel. “There’s no doubt it’s Christmas morning now, right?”

  Something in his chest tightened. It was Christmas morning and she’d planned to be with her family, celebrating. Instead, she was here with him, stuck. It wasn’t his fault, at least not directly, but he felt like the Grinch who’d stolen her Christmas. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry you’re stuck here.”

  She turned to him. Unlike most of the women he’d had in his life, she came up past his shoulder. If he bent only the slightest bit, he could kiss her.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I’ll get to Quincy soon enough. Do you like the decorations, Jason?”

  Quandary. Did he lie his ass off, or go with honesty? Either was tricky, but if he knew one thing, it was that women didn’t usually really want the truth. “They’re…great.”

  She stared at him for a beat. “You don’t like them.”

  “No, I—”

  “Tell me the truth.”

  He let out a breath. “I came up here to be alone and not celebrate Christmas.”

  She was silent for a single heartbeat, then headed around the couch, scooping up an empty bag. She then moved to the kitchen and began shoving the holly lining the counter back into the bag.

  Jason le