Baby, It's Cold Outside (17 page)

And I am so going to use that interesting little tidbit later
.

Just like that, her hard-fought composure vanished. “What?” She shook her head wildly, making her pixie haircut just a little more unruly, a little more sexy. “No. Really. I was drunk. Utterly intoxicated. I didn’t mean...I don’t...I don’t mean...that.”

He reached out to cover her hand, not surprised when she withdrew it as if he’d admitted to having anthrax. “Is the idea of you and me
so
ridiculous?”

“You and me?” she squeaked.

“Yes.
You and me
. A snowy cabin. A New Year’s Eve kiss? One of those of deep, wet, hungry ones you seem to like so much?” His gaze dropped to her mouth. The more her words had wormed into his brain the more he was tempted to partake. “It seems a shame to let such an...opportunity pass us by.” He shrugged. “You never know, it could be the start of something beautiful.”

Her throat bobbed and he dropped his gaze farther to follow the fascinating movement. “That
is
ridiculous,” she said.

Luke wasn’t so sure. He was liking the idea more and more. “Why? Because I’m younger than you?”

Her indignant snort should have been a sign to back down, but he’d never been one for reading signs. “Yes, that. And, your sister is a close friend. And…”

He waited calmly for her next decree. When it wasn’t forthcoming, he prompted. “And?”

“I don’t need
pity sex
,” she whispered loudly.

Even though Luke was pretty damn sure she did, he didn’t call her on it. Her chest rose and fell in little agitated shudders, and there were two spots of color high on her cheeks.

“Okay, sure. But just so you know, it wouldn’t be pity sex. It would be really hot, I’m-totally-into-you sex. Although I do really good pity sex, too. Actually I do
really
good sex, period.”

“You’re
really
quite cocky, aren’t you?” she snapped.

He grinned as she pinked up a little more at her unintentional referral to something she was obviously trying to avoid. “Well now, that’s for me to know and you to find out, isn’t it?”

She huffed at him. Actually huffed. It shouldn’t have been a turn-on, but it was.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay?” she asked, and he’d have to have been deaf to not hear the pleading in her voice. “Can we just pretend that none of what happened, actually happened?”

“Okay.” It was cool. He could be patient. The snow was still bucketing down outside—neither of them was going anywhere. He sat back and crossed his arms across his chest. “What do you want to talk about?”

She blinked at him a few times, which was cute and distracting but not enough to negate the desperation on her face. He could almost see the cogs turning in her brain.

“I...thought you’d told Georgia you couldn’t be here for her birthday?”

He smiled.
Good save.
“Dates are kind of fluid over there. Often plans can change at the drop of a hat. I didn’t want to disappoint her if things didn’t work out...so now I get to surprise her. Win-win.”

“Right,” she said vaguely. “Well that’s...good, right? Sensible...”

He nodded, amused at her attempts to make conversation. “That’s me,” he said. “Mr. Sensible.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah. You ooze sensible.”

Luke laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” She frowned at him and he apologized on another laugh. “Sorry.”

She folded her arms. “Any New Year’s resolutions?”

He admired her persistence with the small talk. She reminded him of his high school biology teacher, Miss Squires. Now, she’d been a real hottie.

He shrugged. “‘Don’t get dead’ has been my go-to resolution for the last few years.”

She gasped and all the haughtiness fell from her features. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” She reached for his hand and he was touched by the genuine distress he saw in her troubled gray gaze. “I should have been asking about your life. About what you’ve been through. About Afghanistan.”

Luke was aware of a tension creeping into his muscles. A tension that a beer, a sleep, a roaring fire in a familiar hearth, and the company of an uninhibited woman had temporarily dispelled.

“Actually, I really don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, pulling his hand away.

She gave him another distressed look. “A couple of the kids I teach, their dads are deployed at the moment... I’m sorry…I must seem so trivial to you.”

Her insight and compassion were touching. He’d bet she was one hell of a teacher. “Trust me, after nine months over there, trivial is nice.”

He watched her watching him, her eyes roaming his face as if she were trying to soothe him with her gaze alone. He liked the sound of her voice and didn’t want her to stop talking. He’d just prefer a different topic.
Like her and kissing
. He quirked his eyebrow as his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Anything else?”

The way her eyes widened slightly, he knew she’d figured out he wasn’t talking about inane conversation. She shook her head. “I got nothing.”

He grinned. “Suit yourself. I’m going to watch a game. I’ll be over there if you change your mind.”

And then he rounded the bench, opened the fridge, grabbed a beer and headed for the couch where a remote, a football game, and a half-eaten bag of Cheetos awaited him.

Chapter Five

Eight hours ’til midnight

Three hours later the game was done and Luke was even more aware of Tamara. She’d joined him, eventually, but only after complaining about the idiocy of big buff men in giant shoulder pads running around a field. She’d plonked herself down on the far end of the couch, all prim and proper and kindergarten-teacher-like.

He, on the other hand, had cooked them two rounds of grilled cheese sandwiches, drunk another beer, stoked the fire, changed channels during the ads, and occasionally yelled at the defense for being morons and to move their good-for-nothing asses. At one point, he’d even shared another bag of Cheetos with her.

And the whole time, he’d been excruciatingly conscious of her presence in her skinny jeans and turtleneck, sitting cross-legged on the couch, looking soft and warm and desperately in need of kissing. Her words had flickered at his brain like the flames crackling in the hearth and not a second had gone by that he hadn’t wanted to drag her down to his end and inflict a few of those wet, hungry kisses he’d been craving ever since she’d described them.

It had been a long nine months and Tamara was too damn tempting.

He gripped the remote hard and flicked through the channels, checking on the latest from Times Square. It was hard to believe the crowd was already reaching capacity despite the atrocious weather.

“Not even nine months in a desert dulls the innate skill of the American male to drive a remote control, I see.”

Luke looked over to see her smiling at him and lost his breath for a moment. Her gray eyes seemed huge in the firelight and he wondered briefly what the hell was wrong with the men she’d been seeing. He’d never met a woman quite like Tamara, but after just a few enjoyable hours in her company he knew he wanted to get to know her a hell of a lot better.

He shrugged. “It comes with the chip in our head.”

“Ah, that’s why little boys are different from little girls,” she said, playfully slapping her forehead.

It was on the tip of his to tongue to point out the other differences, but the mood was mellow between them at the moment and he didn’t want to ruin it. “So…what do you want to do now?” he asked.

Tamara’s smile faded and she looked away quickly into the fire.
Damn.
He’d ruined the mood anyway. “More television, I guess.”

Luke took a deep breath. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “Or…”

He could have sworn he heard a quick sharp intake of breath as her gaze flew to his face. “Or?”

The breathy note in her voice went straight to his groin. “There is that thing I mentioned earlier. New Year’s Eve, a snowed-in cabin, a roaring fire? It’s the perfect setup for a midnight kiss. And I know,” he said quickly as she opened that delectable mouth to protest, “that you’re my sister’s friend and the age thing is freaking you out and that you probably think I’m at a different place in my life at the moment, but you’d be wrong. I’ve lived a little more than the average guy my age, Tamara. I’m looking for more than just company for a night.”

Her big gray eyes softened, and the compassion he saw in them nearly sucked his breath away. A man could get lost in all that emotion.

“Except that would be breaking my ten-date rule,” she said, her voice husky.

But at least she seemed to be relaxing into the situation. He took advantage, sliding closer to her end of the couch. “Ten dates, huh?” He thought for a moment, a plan crystallizing. “Do I get special dispensation?”

She shot him a wary look. “What do you mean?”

“Well.” He shrugged. “I think what we have here are highly unusual circumstances requiring a modification of the rules.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you figure?”

“Extreme weather events come under acts of God, right? And everyone knows that all cards are off the table in these type of situations.”

“They do...?”

Luke smiled at the tremor in her voice. It seemed more encouraging than wary. “Sure, things are usually expedited, right? In which case I think we’re already well into our ten dates.”

Her eyes widened and she snorted. “Oh really? Do tell.” But he could see a spark of interest in her eyes.

He grinned. “First date, you stripped for me. Second date, you threw up on me. Third date”—he
tsk
ed and shook his head—“you slept with me.”

Tamara gaped. “Hey!
You
slept with
me
!”

Luke laughed, enjoying her fake outrage. “Fourth date you made me breakfast.”

“Pop-Tarts? You’re easily pleased.”

His gaze drifted to her mouth as
deep, wet, and hungry
reverberated through his brain. “You have no idea.” She blushed and looked like she was going to run again so he moved closer, not giving her any chance to escape. “Fifth date,
I
cooked for
you
.”

“Grilled cheese sandwiches?”

He shrugged. “You’re welcome. Sixth date I took you to see a game. Actually,” he picked up the remote and flicked channels, “I’m about to take you to another one so that takes care of date seven as well.”

She laughed this time. “Just so you know, taking me to a football game when we’re not in the grip of
highly unusual circumstances
would not count as a date.”

Luke nodded and grinned back. “Roger that.”

And then they were grinning at each other and she said, “Eight, nine, and ten?”

“Well, ten is midnight at Times Square, of course. I expect you to be impressed, we have front row seats after all. Do you know how hard it is to get that close to the ball? ”

She laughed again. “That’s true,” she mused. “But what about numbers eight and nine?”

“Ahh, well now, that depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether we have a deal or not?”

“A deal?”

Luke nodded. “A New Year’s Eve kissing deal.”

Tamara’s gaze locked with his as he extended his hand to hers. “Shake on it?” he said.

She looked down at it, big and male and capable. A hand that had witnessed who- knew-what in a place so far removed from snowy Vermont she couldn’t even begin to comprehend it.

Could she just let herself go like that? Give into temptation? Forget that Luke was Georgia’s brother? That he was younger than her? That their lives were different in so many ways?

Except he’d made a point of telling her they weren’t that different, that his experiences while deployed had added up to a lot of living. She looked up into his steady blue gaze and believed him. She could see the shadows lurking there, the maturity in its depths.

“It’s just a kiss, Tamara.”

Tamara looked at his hand. A little kiss couldn’t hurt, right? It was New Year’s Eve for crying out loud. Even Georgia would forgive her that, surely?

She slipped her hand in his and felt his touch
everywhere
. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Dates eight and nine better blow my mind because I gotta say, the rest have been kind of lame. No more grilled cheese sandwiches or gridiron.”

Luke chuckled as he shook. “Deal. Lucky for me I have a whole other game to think of something.”

Tamara felt her hormones stir and pulled her hand away lest the temptation to throw the next eight hours out the window became too much and she gave him more than the kiss he was asking for. She turned to the television as traitorous thoughts entered her head.

Oh God! Do
not
think about boinking Georgia’s brother. Do not think about boinking Georgia’s
younger
brother.

“Who’s playing now?” she asked, her voice high and breathy.

Not that Tamara paid much attention to the game. A football fan she wasn’t, and one was just about her limit, but she could hardly deprive a full-blooded American male his football fix. Especially not one who probably hadn’t been privy to that many where he’d been the last nine months.

So her attention wandered. To the way his T-shirt fit snugly around his biceps. The way his forehead scrunched when he yelled at the television. The way he balanced his beer in his lap, snuggled in tight to his groin. The way his lips fitted against the mouth of the beer bottle as he took a sip. Which led to the way those lips were going to fit against hers. Which led to him kissing her.

Deep and wet and hungry
.

Frankly, she was glad when it was over and she could concentrate on something else. The anticipation building inside her was making her edgy. There was still five hours left and they hadn’t even gotten to dates eight and nine. And then he turned his head, his steady blue gaze fanning over her, and she felt speared to the spot by his very male anticipation. Or maybe that was appreciation.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “I have the perfect thing for date eight.”