Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge (25 page)

She smirked at the thought and automatically
shot him a grin, which, typically, received no response.

“Got a girl in there, have ya?” She smirked
and enjoyed the look of discomfort that came over him.

“No, of course not, why would you ask?”

“Relax Daniel. I was only teasing.”

“Oh.”

Shaking her head, she thought he really ought
to laugh more, and peered through his thick eyeglass lenses for any
sign of mirth. As predicted, nothing. Zilch. Not even a spark.

Sonya sighed inwardly. Perhaps if there were,
his eyes would stand out a bit more. As it was, there wasn’t much
to be said about them. On a good day they were close enough to be
considered being blue, but were mostly on the greyish side. Which,
with the help of the thick lenses, only magnified the dullness in
their depths.

“You really are a lost cause,” she told him,
shaking her head. “Having a girl in your apartment shouldn’t have
you thinking about running for the safety of your closet.”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” he said, though she
detected a trace of insult as he pushed his glasses up the bridge
of his nose.

She sighed. Though he was a real nice guy,
she didn’t doubt he was very lonely. What he needed was to find
himself an equally nice girl and settle down. Not that Sonya
advocated marriage. It was her opinion that the majority of people
just shouldn’t get married. She most definitely being one of them.
But for some, there was this curious need for it. And Sonya was
certain that Daniel fell into this group.

However, with his nose grounded to the inside
of a computer lab twenty-four-seven, she didn’t see any chance of
that happening. If Sonya’s life weren’t so full as it were, she
would take on the task of transforming the computer nerd into a
heartthrob and snatching him a wife.

Or, for that matter, any girl.

It wasn’t healthy for a man to go for so long
without some form of interaction with members of the opposite sex.
However, one look at Daniel and Sonya simply didn’t have that kind
of time.

“Help me out here, will ya?” she said,
showing him her backside and changing the topic. One thing she
hated, was her ability to unintentionally hurt his feelings.

Behind her, Daniel watched as Sonya lifted a
heavy curtain of long dark curls and in the process gave him a full
and uninhibited view of her backside. The smoothness of her exposed
back and the lack of a bra had him sighing inwardly.

She was undeniably the sexiest creature he
had ever observed, and his fingers ached to reach out and stroke
her velvet skin. But a portion of his brain also wanted to demand
she turn around and put on the missing garment.

When asked an hour earlier if she should wear
the provocative little red dress or the equally sexy but with a
higher degree of material blue dress, he instantly chose the
latter. Not that he was a prude.

As a matter-of-fact, he definitely preferred
the red dress and the way it clung to her female curves and arched
to her delightful bottom. The lack of a bra very evident through
the thin material of her dress, only made his groin ache. And it
was for this reason that had him vexed.

He knew damn well it was for the benefit of
Tristan Manning, the owner of the bar where she was headed for a
job interview. She started crooning for the guy ever since she
began frequenting his establishment. Why this Tristan person never
asked her out, was a complete mystery to Daniel.

Sonya Elliott was the perfect male fantasy.
Not only was she tall with a sinfully perfect body, but also had
the face of a goddess. The word conservative did not describe
Sonya.

Nor did shy. As evidenced now as he hooked a
finger and pulled on the zipper to exam the damage, and in the
process exposed a wonderfully curved backside where it dipped below
her panty line. His eyes filled with the sight of her before
letting the zipper go and having the panties snap back into
place.

“Come on in.” He turned around and walked
back into his apartment, controlling his male urge at the snatched
look.

“So what has changing my mind about the dress
got to do with my—what did you call it—connection to the universal
system of proportion?”

“Propulsion,” he corrected. “The act of
moving forward.”

“Whatever.”

“Well, without propulsion our universe would
cease to exist. As humans, we have an inherent ability to be able
to zap into this system when confronted with conflict. The greater
that ability, the greater the connection with the universe.”

When he received no response, he looked over
his shoulder and caught her eyes looking distant. His shoulders
drooped as he quickly turned away. Retrieving his line of thought,
he decided to try a different approach. “As humans, we are
naturally motivated by conflict. It is a vital element of
evolution. Without it, we are unable to move forward.
Progress.”

“Oh-kay.”

“Therefore, no matter how much one may want
to resist change, it is fundamentally conducive to growth.”

“Yes, well, I am certainly getting a lot of
resistance here.” She yanked on her zipper, reminding him of her
reason for being there.

“Ah, yes, resistance. The opposition or
defiance of propulsion. Or in this case obstruction.”

“Daniel, please,” she groaned and motioned to
her backside once again. “Could you help me out here?”

“Right.” He grimaced and turned his attention
back to rummaging through some cupboards. It was a bad habit of his
to dribble useless information whenever he got nervous. And women
made him nervous. Especially beautiful women. And Sonya Elliott was
as beautiful as they came.

“Do you think you can free it?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, then muttered under
his breath, “You won’t keep your precious Tristan waiting.”

Though she must have heard for she smirked
and gestured to her attire. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“I’m sure.”

Sonya noticed he didn’t even bother glancing
her way as he began pulling kitchen drawers out and searching for
something.

She sighed with the smallest trace of
disappointment. He wasn’t being very reassuring. She didn’t know
why, but Tristan Manning got under her skin. Maybe it was because
he was the only man she wanted and wasn’t able to snare. Two months
now and all she could manage to gain from him was a wink now and
then.

It frustrated her and, no doubt, made her
infatuation with him stronger. If it were the last thing she did
she would have that man groveling at her feet and, smiling smugly,
possibly with his head between her—

“—panties?”

Sonya blinked. “What?”

Daniel held up a pair of scissors and asked,
“I asked if you were keen on keeping those panties?”

“Oh. Well, actually, if at all possible,” she
admitted with a wry grin. “I found them in a specialty shop in
North York which, unfortunately, has since gone out of
business.”

“Ah,” he said, adding sarcastically, “Don’t
want to go to the interview without your lucky underwear.”

She gave a humorous snort. “Hardly. But you
never know. Maybe after today—”

“No job is that important.”

“Oh, but this one is.” Her brows puckered as
she pleaded for understanding. “His bar is about the only one in
town that uses a live band instead of a DJ. This could finally be
the break I need.”

“Did he promise you a chance to perform?” His
words and tone of voice reminded her of a reprimanding father. She
didn’t like it one bit. It had been a long time since she bothered
to listen to anything her father had to say. Or ever would.
Particularly on the subject of commitment.

Turning her back on him, she held out the
zipper. “Can we get this over with? I’m going to be late.”

Daniel sighed again before moving to stand
behind her. He allowed his eyes to slide beneath her lace panties
where his hands were not allowed to go, and groaned inwardly before
snatching the zipper between his fingers and snipping the lacy
material free from its teeth.

She yelped and spun around, her eyes huge
with anger. “Why did you do that?”

“Believe it or not, conflict is actually a
positive addition to our lives. It acts as a reaction mass and
induces our survival hormones to be released which in turn creates
adrenaline to pump—”

“Daniel!”

He offered her a careless shrug. “Didn’t want
to be blamed for dousing your adrenaline.”

“Ass,” she muttered, clutching the torn
garment behind her lovely backside and marched out of his
apartment.

Grinning, he turned back into his apartment
to the unfinished computer program he abandoned earlier to answer
the door. He dropped onto the stool in front of the computer and
stared at the monitor blankly. He had to surf his memory to try and
recall where he had left off, which was no easy task considering
his mind was completely absorbed with the image of a smooth and
rounded, and very female bottom.

About the Author

Peggy Ann Craig is a writer of historical and
contemporary romances. She loves old fashion romances mingled with
a touch of mystery and/or humor. When she is not in front of her
keyboard, she can be found behind her camera or hanging out with
her barnyard critters. To learn more about her, please visit her
website at
http://www.peggyanncraig.com
.

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Other books by this author

Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to
discover other books by Peggy Ann Craig:

Misunderstood (In Love
with the Nerd)