A Blazing Little Christmas(72)

This weekend was her Christmas, her only Christmas, and he wouldn’t steal it from her.

She stalked over to the window, stared at the last remnants of the day, the snowflakes still falling fast and furious.

“You cannot drive in this weather.”

“Rebecca, don’t.”

“Don’t? Don’t what? Don’t yell, don’t be angry?”

“No,” he answered quietly.

“I will not be used,” she said, blinking back tears.

“You used me.”

“I did…not,” she finished.

Cory didn’t try to correct her, simply continued dressing. She watched him, arms folded over her chest.

Eventually he straightened, his gaze drifting over her body. Rebecca didn’t move, her jaw locked in place.

“Do you want me to build a fire before I go? You’ll get cold.”

She was already cold, ice-cold, all the fire inside her spent. Rebecca shook her head. “Leave if you want.”

He paused, then went to the fireplace, pulling some kindling from an old-style iron log basket. The second he lit the match, a knock sounded on the door.

“Rebecca? Rebecca Neumann?”

Cory looked up at Rebecca.

Rebecca looked at the door.

A slow, tight smile covered her face. She sauntered over, naked as the day she was born (except for the requisite socks), and threw open the door.

“Alec Trevayne? Hello, I’m Rebecca Neumann.”





Chapter 5


Why couldn’t she cooperate? This was a simple thing. He was leaving, she was staying, and she needed to get with the program. Cory rubbed at his eyes. “I should explain something to you,” Rebecca said to the Brit. “We’re both victims of a setup gone horribly bad. As you can see I’m pleased with my current lover.”

Somehow Alec Trevayne managed an impeccable politeness, but how? Rebecca had the primest ass on the North American continent, but the Brit kept his eyes glued to her face.

Cory swore, grabbed the blanket from the bed and dropped it around her shoulders. He hovered nearby in case she decided to toss it off. Considering the hard line of her jaw, that seemed a possibility.

And, yes, Rebecca wasn’t done. “I was given a travel package by Santa Claus. Yes, you heard right, Santa. When I got here, I discovered a man from my past, and we’ve spent the last few hours rekindling an old flame.”

“There was no flame,” Cory corrected, still hoping that Alec would be the stand-up guy he was supposed to be, while Cory could get the hell out of Dodge.

Alec looked at Rebecca, looked at Cory, then laughed nervously. “I should leave you two.”

Rebecca nodded graciously, doing a great Queen of England impersonation. Damn, the two of them belonged together. “I’m sorry about the mix-up,” she was telling him. “I’m sure we’ll see each other in the city and have one of those awkward moments, and you seem so nice, and I hate to think that we can’t be mature and laugh about this. Hahaha. I had no idea that Natalie invited you up here. We could’ve solved so many problems if Natalie had simply explained things to me.”

“Things. Yes.”

“Sometimes passion burns at the most inopportune times.”

“Passion was not burning,” announced Cory, his fingers curling into his palms. She was building a trap around him. A neat, skin-colored trap with tiny, white hands, soft, ripe breasts and the tightest—

“Don’t mind Cory. He’s shy.”

At that, Cory knew he had to take a more active role in this situation. “Don’t judge me by your standards. I don’t greet strangers in the nude, no. But it doesn’t mean I’m shy,” he corrected, noticing the corner of the blanket starting to slip.

He turned to Alec, but the stand-up Brit was gone. Fled. Damn it. Cory slammed the door.

“Why the hell did you do that?” His watch said it was nearly seven o’clock. He’d missed a day and he needed to leave. He felt it, the panic, the anger, the need to run. She didn’t understand. He had to leave.

“It’s not any fun when you don’t have a voice in the matter, is it?”

And now she wanted to play the victim? “Oh, come on, Rebecca. And fix the blanket.”

Noticing her blanket-slippage was a tactical mistake on his part—he saw the beady gleam in her eyes.

“You liar,” she said.

“I never lied.”

“You said one night.”

Do not argue semantics with a schoolteacher. So, he had lied. He had lied for her own good, for his own sanity. Cory moved to the window. “The moon is high. Technically it’s now night.”

She scoffed at his logic, the blanket slipping another inch, exposing the fine arch of her breast. Cory swallowed.