“I wanted to,” he said simply. “Open it.”
She did, carefully. A tree pendent, a bit smaller than the one he wore, was nestled in a swath of scrap fabric. She gasped and withdrew it, holding it up to the light so that she could get a better look. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Thank you.”
“I included the roots, because I knew they were important to you.”
She swallowed tightly. “I see that.”
She didn’t know when any gift had ever meant more to her. Her eyes glistened. “It’s perfect.”
He slid a finger beneath her eye, catching a tear. “You’re perfect.”
“What am I doing here, Bryant?” she asked, because she had to know. Needed to know what he was thinking. “I didn’t figure you wanted this.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t, either. But I can’t get you out of my head, Layla. And I don’t want to. I don’t know where this is going. I don’t know if I can be that guy, the one you want, but I know that I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t try.” He laced his fingers through hers and gave her hand a significant squeeze. “I just know that I’m grounded when I’m with you. Centered. Rooted. And I like that.”
It was as close to a declaration of love as she was going to get, and since she wasn’t ready to declare herself yet either, that was fine.
She nodded, in full understanding, then smiled. “Would you like to unwrap your present?” she asked.
“You brought me something?”
“It’s not new,” she said. He’d had her before, but…
“That doesn’t matter.”
She guided his hand to the belt at her waist and helped him untie the sash. The coat fell open, revealing red and green plaid Christmas bows on her breasts and a large velvet bow—complete with a silver bell—over her hoo-ha. She’d made a thong for the occasion. Being crafty had its perks.
His eyes darkened and she watched him lick his lips. “You are the best Christmas present I have ever gotten, hands down.”
Layla smiled, pulled a piece of mistletoe from her coat pocket and dangled it over his head, then bent forward and kissed him. “Unwrap me.”
A BABE IN TOYLAND
Tawny Weber
To Rhonda Nelson and Kate Hoffmann—two awesomely fun ladies to work with!
Thanks for making this such a great experience.
1
“IF ONE MORE GUY OFFERS to jingle my bells, I’m going to dump a pitcher of beer over his happy-holidaying head.”
“’Tis the season, goodwill toward drunken men, and all that.” Rita Cole winked at the other waitress before shifting a glass-filled tray from her shoulder to the teak bar. Bright lights, chrome and flowering vines were supposed to make the Asbury Park yuppie bar welcoming and innocuous. But the goody-goody decor didn’t hide the meat-market vibe.
“Consider it a gift,” Rita suggested. Life was hard enough without getting uptight over petty stuff. And any guys haunting this bar were inevitably going to be petty. “They get a few harmless fantasies and you get a sweet tip. Everyone’s happy.”
“Speaking of happy,” Kimmi said as she counted change, “thanks again for hooking me up with that pediatrician. How on earth did you find a baby doc?”
“I met her when I was apprenticing at the Hershberger salon in Manhattan. She was one of Sally’s clients.”
“How does a girl with all your skills and connections end up schlepping drinks in a bar?” the blonde asked as she hefted her own tray.
Wasn’t that the question of the hour? And one Rita wasn’t about to try to answer without a pitcher of margaritas, a box of tissues and a pile of chocolate to stave off the depression.
Instead, she forced herself to smile. There was no way she could spend eight hours with her feet wrapped in stiletto boots and her butt barely covered by a fur-trimmed velvet skirt if she was in a bad mood. Besides, a good mood meant better tips.
And she desperately needed the money.
She’d learned a long time ago that when a girl resembled a Playboy centerfold—all curves and wickedly sultry looks, guys looked whether she liked it or not. Given the choice between hiding her assets or making the most of them, she’d take the ogling. She just wished she could leave the judgment that went with it behind.
Five minutes later, her resolve was tested. She had just deposited a chocolatini, two margaritas and a pitcher of beer at a table of ladies and collected their credit cards when she felt a fat-fingered hand slide up the back of her thigh, skimming the hem of her short skirt.
When she spun around the hand dropped, but the guy’s smirk didn’t. Her stomach tensed but she forced herself to keep her smile intact.