Santa's Pet (14 page)

“I resigned from ScrapCloud.” She blinked and a tear shimmered from the corner of her eye. “Someone hacked into our system and exposed customer purchases. I missed a design flaw and they exploited it.”

“Do you have an idea who did this?”

“No, except it was an inside job. Someone who had access to the source code. There’s no way anyone else would know the commands to trigger the vulnerability unless they’d read the code.”

“That’s horrible.” Ben tightened his arms around her. “You’ve been betrayed.”

“Yes, it seems that way. The person responsible for the code is my cousin, Samantha. My brother-in-law, Brandon, was the marketing guy who requested the feature. And my friend, Sean Rodgers, is the security guy behind the scenes.”

“Sean’s your friend?” Ben couldn’t help the spurt of adrenaline launching through his heart.

“Yes, a good one. Last year, when we were attacked by hackers, Sean snagged the culprit. He’s been working with me closely, and so far we haven’t had any hacking attacks.”

“An inside leak.” It dawned on Ben what a horrible mess Brittney was in.

“Yes, and that means in Dave and Jen’s eyes, I’m also a suspect. After all, if I can take down Shopahol, I’d be free to work with Lacy and Brandon at their new venture, no longer bound by the contract I signed where all new ideas belong to them.”

“That’s unfair.”

“Standard practice. The key is to not let anyone know your ideas until you’re safely outside. Or if the company you signed with no longer exists …”

“You wouldn’t have done that.”

A wry smile crossed her face and she tilted her head ever so slightly. “And you know that how?”

“No one who believes in Santa can be that bad.” He lowered his lips to hers and inhaled her surprised breath, then swept her into his arms and carried her to his truck.

~ Brittney ~

I have so many questions. So many things I have to say to Ben. So much to tell him. So many apologies and regrets. But when his sweet and powerful mouth latches onto mine, all thought and logic vanish and all I can do is hang onto him and let him carry me away.

The soft burr in his voice when he’d declared his faith in me—that believing in Santa Claus made me good—drew a delicious tingle over my body. I have no idea where he’s coming from or where I’m going, but after all the blows I’ve taken, all I want is to forget my troubles and let a big, strong man sweep me off my feet.

Ben kisses me again in the cab of his truck. He cups my cheek in one large palm and caresses it lightly. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here.” The words leap from my mouth before I have time to take them back.

A sideways grin quirks his mouth and he chuckles. “Having that kind of a day?”

“Try week, or month.” I raise my hand and palm it over his. “Let’s take off and disappear. At least for tonight.”

I’ve never been this daring or impulsive. I’m the one with the schedules and plans. The one who makes a checklist and obsesses over it, checking and unchecking. I’m the good girl with my ducks all in a row. But right now, all I want to do is run and hide—lick my wounds and forget. I don’t want to face the press or explain what happened to my shocked family, and I definitely don’t want to go online.

“I think I can arrange that.” Ben presses a kiss on my lips. “Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

I give his hand a squeeze and peck his lips one more time before leaning back and closing my eyes. “Don’t tell me where we’re going. Surprise me.”

“I will.” He takes his hand off me and puts the truck in gear.

The rough desire in his voice draws fire over my skin, and excitement coils deep in my belly, readying me for whatever might come up. Anything’s better than going back to my apartment and poring over the build logs, the security checks, the emails and messages, the logged access to the facility, the deleted files and removed instant messages.

I’ll find the traitor some other day. Tonight, I’m just me, Brittney Reed, and I’m glad Ben swooped in to the rescue.

Some time later, the truck engine cuts off, and I realize I’ve been asleep. Dreaming. Vivid and incoherent at the same time. It’s past dusk already, and faint lights twinkle from between towering tree trunks—redwoods. I rub the sleep from my eyes, and the first thing I hear is the crashing surf.

Ben leans over and smooths my hair back from my face. I hope I don’t have drool on my chin, but he doesn’t seem to care. His smile is shy and soft, reassuring. He kisses my cheek. “Hold still. I’ll get your door.”

He comes around the front of his truck while my eyes adjust to the dark. The scent of pine mixes with the heady salt spray of the ocean. I can’t make out any buildings, and when I step from the cab, my feet land on a springy mat of pine needles.

“Where are we?” I take Ben’s hand.

“Somewhere on the Pacific Coast among the redwoods. The details don’t matter.” He swings me around and hops over a log. The soft path leads to a small cabin perched high on a rugged cliff above the churning ocean.

Moonlight casts an eerie spell over the mists settling among the trees, and I lean closer to Ben as he wraps his arm around me. In my haste to leave the ScrapCloud parking lot, I’d left my coat in my car.

“This is magical. How did you come across this place?”

“My grandfather bought it long ago, when land was cheap. He’s resisted selling out to developers. Sometimes it’s good to be stubborn.” Ben turns the combination lock on the lockbox and extracts a set of keys. “Prepare to step back in time.”

He opens the creaky door and flips on the light. There’s a preponderance of rugged wood everywhere, from the rough hewn floorboards to the knotty pine panels on the wall, to the solid wood sofas and loveseats with cozy looking cushions and throw pillows. Old-fashioned ripple afghans zig-zag over the backs of the furniture. Stacks of firewood are piled on both sides of the rough-cut stone hearth. A single white swan sits on the mantel, and over the fireplace, a weathered wooden pilot wheel hangs instead of the usual deer head full of antlers.

“Glad we won’t be looked over by dead animals,” I quip. “It’s lovely.”

“No bearskin rug, either,” Ben says, pointing to the large Navajo patterned rug on the wood floor. “My great-grandmother wove this one. Grandpa hasn’t been here since Grandma passed.”

“I can see her touch everywhere.” I turn around the great room and flow into Ben’s arms. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“It’s a little dusty. There’s no TV and and no internet, and ordinarily, I’d ask you to hand over your cell phone, but I’m going to keep mine attached since I don’t want to be out of touch in case Grandpa needs me.” He seems to want to avoid talking about his grandmother. I can’t imagine what it was like for him to lose his mother and then a few years later, lose his grandmother, too.

“Sure, I understand.” I unwrap myself from Ben and dig in my purse. “Take mine and hide it.”

“You sure? Have you told your family where you’ll be?”

“Oh, right. Don’t want them to worry more than usual. I’m sure they want to know why I resigned, talk about how unfair it is, and rally behind me, but I don’t feel like talking about any of it. Not right now.” I unlock my phone and thumb a message to my sister.

Taking a few days off without internet or phone. I’m okay. Please don’t worry. Brittney

Ben looks over my shoulder and says, “That sounds ominous. Tell them you’re with me.”

“Then they’d definitely worry.” I add another message.

I’m with a friend. Grandpa Powers knows how to find me.

I slap the phone in Ben’s palm. “Better?”

“Marginally. Why don’t you keep it? Just turn it off.”

“No, I’ll only be tempted to look at the news, and then this getaway would be for nothing.” I run my fingers through my tangled hair, yawning.

He puts my phone in his pocket and steers me to the bedroom. “All yours. Why don’t you relax and I’ll run to the store and get some supplies. What would you like for dinner?”

“Whatever you want is fine. Can we stay in? Sandwiches or something easy is okay with me.”

“Great. I’ll pick something up from the deli.”

He’s on his way out when I call him. “Ben, I don’t have anything to wear to bed. Can you buy me a large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants?”

His grin widens and he wiggles his eyebrows. “There’s bound to be a few Mrs. Claus costumes lying around. My grandmother’s about your height.”

“Oh, sure, and are you going to sleep in a Santa suit?” I plop on the large fluffy bed.

“Nah, just my birthday suit.” He chuckles and saunters out the door.

I’m so bone tired, I don’t respond. He’s flirting, but I doubt he’ll make a move. Gentlemen like Ben would volunteer to sleep on the couch.

I know I should take the couch, but the bed’s too inviting. Closing my eyes, I wrap the comforter around me.

~ Ben ~

Ben let Brittney sleep late the next morning. When he’d returned from the store the night before, she was already fast asleep. He’d left toiletries and a few items of clothing he’d grabbed at the convenience store for her.

When he got back from running, Brittney was sitting on the back deck, sipping coffee and enjoying the ocean view. She was wearing his oversized Goldrusher jersey and a pair of sweatpants.

“I can’t believe you didn’t wake me for dinner.” She set the coffee down and took a bite from a powdered sugar donut. “I’m sorry for conking out on you.”

He pulled the matching rocker next to her and sat down. “This getaway is for you to decompress. No stress. No expectations.”

“Why are you doing this for me?” Her clear blue eyes shone like a peaceful lake, and all he wanted to do was stare at her, take in her beauty, and store it for his dreams.

“It’s for me, too. We’ve both been stretched over a barrel like crazy. Once you asked me to take you away, I thought about Grandpa’s cabin and the happy times I spent here before my mother died.”

“Lots of memories.”

“Good ones.” He took her hand and rocked his chair the same rhythm as hers. “And hopefully many more to come.”

“I’m touched you’d bring me to such a special place.”

He reached for her with his other hand and kissed her. It wasn’t a rushed kiss, but one that spoke of all the time in the world. She tasted bitter and sweet, the coffee mixed with the light dusting of sugar from the donut.

The rocking of the chairs slowed as he deepened the kiss. He teased her with the tip of his tongue and she opened up to him. Her hand went around his sweaty neck and she squirmed in her rocking chair to angle closer.

Her tongue drew fire through his veins and sent his cock surging forward. He’d been so busy lately, he hadn’t sought release, and with the way she sucked on his lip and stroked his neck and shoulders with those long, elegant fingers, he could very well explode in his gym shorts.

Not the horny teenage image he wanted her to have.

Ben groaned and cut off the kiss. “I need a shower. A cold one. What do you want to do today?”

She touched her swollen lips, and the lower one protruded into a pout. “You mean kissing me is not on your preferred agenda?”

He tugged at his shorts and crossed his leg to tilt his hips away from her. “I could kiss you all day, but then I’d have to keep my hands busy—away from you.”

A sly smile stretched her lips, and she ran her tongue over that sexy lower lip of hers. Dang. His erection took another rise, wanting in to that luscious mouth, aching for that hot and agile tongue to wrap around the shaft.

Ben leaped from the rocking chair and hobbled to the kitchen door. “Gotta wash up first.”

“Since you want to keep your hands busy, I’ll join you.” Brittney bounced from her rocking chair—his grandma’s chair, and walked toward him. Her melon balls bounced inside the jersey she borrowed from him, her nipples no doubt rubbing against the inside where his chest had been, and he thought he saw them hardening, peaking, aroused.

Gulp. Was she coming on to him? It was hard for him to tell. Being a football player meant women threw themselves at him on a regular basis. He’d never had to date anyone before they’d put out. Of course, it meant he was in control of exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it, and how much.

Everything with Brittney was a whole new ball game. Would she step into the shower with him? Or was she teasing him? He’d let her set the pace. But if she didn’t wash up with him, he wasn’t going to hold back on relieving himself. He’d turn the water up nice and hot, and imagine pushing himself into her hot, slippery folds. With his luck, he wouldn’t even have to grip himself before he came. His balls were ready to burst from the kissing and he hadn’t even gotten to second base.

He was getting ahead of himself. Was this even a date? Or had she come here with him as a friend? For comfort and support? Sheesh. The last thing he should do was take advantage of a friend, especially his grandfather’s buddy’s granddaughter. Especially since he’d be leaving soon after the holidays. His head was spinning as he entered the kitchen.

“You left such a mess for one guy.” Brittney chuckled, surveying the kitchen. “I wasn’t about to wash all the dishes by myself. But since you said you’d do it, I’ll help.”

Was this what she meant about washing with him? Dishes?

Despite what Brittney had said last night about sandwiches, he’d tried to cook his grandma’s famous enchilada recipe. After mixing and stirring the sauce and browning beef, he’d ended up with the casserole version, burnt on the bottom. He’d eaten a few bites and stored the rest in the refrigerator, but was too bushed to do the dishes.

“Uhm, sorry.” He wiped his hand over his sweaty forehead. “You don’t have to help. I can do the dishes.”

“Want me to heat up some of that casserole for breakfast? What is it, anyway?” She opened the refrigerator and stuck her head in, which mean her sweet, perky behind was pointed at him enticingly. He pictured a target pasted on her backside, and his dick chomped on the bit, urging him forward.

“I need that cold shower first.” He grumbled, unable to help his disappointment.

“I can take care of that.” She shut the refrigerator and sauntered by him, her eyes full of mischief as she lowered them from his face, raking his body full of hot coals.

Nope. He wasn’t going to fall for that tease. “You’re not taking care of anything. Not the dishes. Not the cooking. You’re here to unwind.”

He knew he shouldn’t stand there and let her stare. For sure, she saw his condition, and her nonchalance eased it somewhat. But his feet were rooted to the kitchen floor as she unwound the vegetable sprayer and hit his crotch full force with a shot of cold water.

“Yeoow!” He yelped, covering his groin and jumping back. “What was that for?”

“Helping you cool down, silly.” She threw her head back and laughed, then skipped merrily from the kitchen.

“You minx. You wanted to unwind? I’ll unwind you.” He tore after her as she ran around the great room screaming.