The Trouble with Mistletoe Read online

  gorgeous and expensive. The one in front of them had some scaffolding wrapped around it, which didn’t take away from the absolutely gorgeousness of the place.

  “Wait here,” Keane said and reached behind him to grab the cat carrier. “I’m just going to run the antichrist inside before we go so she doesn’t have to sit in the truck during dinner.”

  “You live here?”

  “It’s one of my renovation projects. It’s also my office and where I temporarily park my head at night.”

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, unable to take her eyes off of it. “One of the most beautiful homes I’ve ever seen.”

  He smiled. “Thanks but you should’ve seen it when I first got ahold of it several years ago. You wouldn’t have given it a second look.” He started to get out of the truck but then hesitated. “You’ll still be here when I get back, right?”

  She wanted to see inside that amazing house. “You could take me with you to guarantee it.”

  “I trust you,” he said.

  She didn’t buy that for a second. What she did buy was that he didn’t want her to go inside. “You leave dishes in the sink?” she asked. “Clothes all over the floor? Or maybe you’ve got someone in there waiting on you . . .” She was just joking but she didn’t like thinking it could be true.

  “You mean a woman?”

  Well when he said it like that, it did sound dumb. “Never mind,” she said. “Do what you have to do.”

  He stilled a beat and then set the carrier down again and leaned in close to her. With one hand on the headrest at the back of her head and the other on the seat at her opposite hip, he caged her in, his face an inch from hers.

  Smiling.

  The ass. He was temptation personified and he knew it. And also, he smelled good. She had no idea how he’d managed to work all day long doing what he did and still smell amazing, but he did. She closed her eyes, making herself sit still instead of doing as she wanted—which would’ve been smushing her face into the crook of his neck and inhaling him like she was a third grader with a bottle of glue.

  “You want to come upstairs, Willa?” he asked, voice pure sex.

  What she wanted was to put her hands back on his chest now that she knew it was as hard as it looked. Instead she gripped either side of her seat with white knuckles. “Of course not.”

  “I think you do. I think you want something else too.”

  “What I want,” she said as coolly as she could, “is dinner as promised.”

  “Liar,” he chided softly.

  “Well that’s just rude, calling your date a liar.”

  “So it is a date.” His tone was very male and very smug. It should’ve pissed her off but instead it did something hot and erotic to her insides.

  Clearly knowing it, he smiled at her and then dragged his teeth over his lower lip as he contemplated her.

  Gah. She wanted to do that. And she wanted to do more too. She wanted him shockingly badly and suddenly she couldn’t remember why she shouldn’t. She tried to access her thought processes on the subject but her brain hiccupped and froze. Which surely was the only reason she let go of the death grip on her seat, slid her fingers into his hair, and . . . brushed her mouth over his.

  He didn’t move, not a single muscle, but when she pulled back, his eyes had gone dark as night, piercing her with their intensity.

  “Don’t read that the wrong way,” she whispered.

  “Is there a wrong way to take it when a beautiful woman kisses you?”

  “Um . . .”

  He laughed low in his throat, like maybe she delighted him, and then he mirrored what she’d done. He slid his hands up her throat and into her hair, intensifying the pleasure already wreaking havoc inside her body so that desire laced its way from her chest to her stomach, and then much lower.

  “Um . . .”

  His lips curved. “You said that already.”

  She laughed nervously, feeling sixteen and stupid all over again, but seriously, if his voice got any lower she was going to embarrass herself here. It was so deep and husky that she could feel his words. “I . . .”

  He waited for her to speak but honestly, she had nothing. Not a single thought in her head.

  He smiled, a wicked, naughty smile, and the hand in her hair slowly pulled her head back. And then he lowered his perfect mouth to hers in a devastatingly slow and unhurried kiss, sealing his lips to hers as one powerful arm curled around her hip to keep her in place.

  Pulsing waves of heat unfurled inside of her and she gave a helpless moan, prompting him to tighten his grip on her and deepen the connection with a better angle and a lot more tongue.

  She’d started this, she’d been in charge, but she was no longer even remotely in control. For a beat she let her fingers wander, eliciting a rumbly groan from deep in his throat, the sound incredibly erotic. Then she pulled back and stared up at him.

  “I have no idea what I did to deserve that,” he murmured quietly, stroking a finger along her temple. “But I’m going to drop Pita off now before this goes too far.”

  Their gazes held and she could see the humor shining in his, crinkling at the edges. Right, she thought. Good. One of them could still think.

  “Okay?” he asked, which was when she realized she had two fistfuls of his shirt, holding him to her.

  “Sure.” She made herself loosen her grip, smoothing out the wrinkles she’d left, and again she could feel his tight abs through the cotton. Very tight.

  She wanted to lick him like a lollipop.

  But he didn’t want this to go too far. Not with her. She needed to remember that. Maybe she should write it down so she didn’t forget. She was nodding to herself like a bobblehead when he said her name and then waited until she looked at him.

  “Not that I don’t want it to go too far,” he said, his gaze revealing heat and the raw power she was getting used to seeing in those dark depths when he looked at her. “But not in my truck, Willa. Not with you.” He got out of the car and waited while she did the same. Then he picked up the carrier with Petunia in it and with his other hand, grabbed hers.

  “It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I can wait here.”

  “Don’t chicken out now,” he said, looking amused. “You can satiate your curiosity and check to make sure I’m not double booked tonight all at the same time.”

  She tried to pull free of his grip, but he had her, and she laughed a little to herself—the sexy jackass—as he nudged her inside ahead of him.

  She immediately forgot why she was mad. The main level was rich with Victorian architectural details: beautiful trim, a crafted stairway with ornate wood railings and stairs. Gorgeously charming light fixtures hung in the entry and living room, paying homage to the period style of the home.

  “Wow,” she murmured, taking in the surprisingly wide-open space that was still liberally protected from the renovation with tarp runners across the hardwood floors. She could see into the open kitchen and den as well as the still unfinished loft above and to the left. The dining room and living area were clearly being used as office space.

  What she didn’t see was a single Christmas decoration. “You said you live here?” she asked.

  “Temporarily.”

  “There’s no holiday decorations.”

  “No.” He couched low to set down the carrier and unzipped it. Rising to his full height, he stared down at the thing, hands on hips as if braced for warfare. “I have three projects going right now. This is one of them.”

  She looked around in marvel. “How did you get started doing this?”

  “The short of it is that I begged, borrowed, and stole the money for the first fallen property and then kicked some serious ass to not lose my shorts over the deal.”

  “Fallen?” she asked.

  “In that first case, a foreclosure. I slapped some lipstick on it and quickly turned it around for a small profit, emphasis on small.” He gave a quick smile. “I got better as time went on.�