It Must Have Been the Mistletoe(57)

“Nothing like that. I just need a quick stop at the next town to get a few Christmas stockings, some holiday ribbon and bows. Maybe some mistletoe. Packaging, you know?”

“Packaging,” he repeated faintly.

“Yep.” She flipped the inventory over for a blank writing surface and held up her pen. “And if you’re willing to be a total sweetie pie, you could give me a rundown of our itinerary. That way I can get the word out, drum up some interest ahead of time.”

He opened his mouth as if to answer, then his brow furrowed and he gave her a weird look. His shoulders hunched a little and he gripped the wheel tighter.

“Drum up interest? How?”

“Social networking at its best,” she explained. “My phone has apps for Facebook, Twitter and a couple others. Over the years I’ve met about a million people. I’ll tweet the location, the time and a few tasty tidbits. Then, hopefully, there’ll be buyers waiting when we get there.”

It was a great plan. From the stunned look on Tyler’s face, he thought so, too. Or maybe that was horror?

“So what d’ya say?” she asked. “Can I get the itinerary?”

“I, um, have to make some calls first. Check on the guys who wanted me to stop by, see if they still want to talk.” He shot her a look so sweet, she got a sugar rush. “I’ll hit the next town so you can do some shopping, okay? Make my calls and give you tomorrow’s stops at least.”

The smile he gave her was little-boy cute, with just a hint of something naughty beneath the surface. It was all Rita could do not to unhook her seat belt and climb into his lap.

“Sure,” she said softly, giving him a slow, sexy look from under her lashes. “Whatever you want.”

When his eyes narrowed, she ran her tongue along her bottom lip and gave a sigh. Small enough to be cute, but big enough to draw his attention to the ample curves of her chest. Which was covered, unfortunately, in an ancient blue sweater that owed its life to comfort and warmth, not fashion.

No matter. It wasn’t as if she was going to dig into the package of sex toys herself. That’d be crazy. He was totally wrong for her. And then there was the fact that her family, who had never gotten over the prom fiasco, would kill her.

Of course, when had she worried what her family thought? Rita glanced at the list of toys she was trying to sell and winced. So she always worried about what her family thought. Which meant that until she knew she could handle whatever came up—or didn’t come up—she’d just play with the wrappings.

But, oh, sweet holiday, she was damned sure unwrapping Tyler Ramsey would be one incredible pleasure. And she was definitely woman enough to handle anything he had tucked away in those faded jeans.

The trick would be convincing him. And she’d get right on that, just as soon as she was sure she could afford what doing so would cost her.



DRIVING THROUGH THE SNOW, Tyler gratefully listened to Rita chatter. He’d damn near driven off the road an hour back after getting blasted by a major sexy vibe. But after a few zinging hot seconds, she’d put her come-hither look away and turned on the friendly charm.

He couldn’t honestly say he preferred friendly to sexy; he had to admit Rita was appealing either way.

Upbeat and gregarious, she covered topics ranging from what she’d gotten her sisters for Christmas, to who sang a better version of “Santa Baby” and how to build a perfect snowman.

She discussed his bike business, showing a surprising grasp of the bikes themselves and the Harley mystique. She talked about her myriad jobs, ranging from her stint as a restaurant critic to babysitting show dogs. From the sound of it, she’d taken jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none to new levels.

She filled him in on the friends she’d made, the people she’d connected with during her career odyssey, including the fact that she had all of them either on Twitter, Facebook or email. A huge benefit for her toy caper, he had to acknowledge.

The more he listened, the less he knew her. And the more he wanted her.

Which was crazy. Rita was trouble, wasn’t she? She was bad news to any guy crazy enough to fall under her green-eyed spell. But the sweet look on her face when she’d described the present she wanted to get her parents was stuck in his brain.

Sure, he still felt justified with his actions back in the bar. He’d wanted to save Benny from making an ass out of himself. But he’d also ruined Rita’s Christmas, not only her finances, but her entire homecoming. What kind of jerk was he? It wasn’t like Benny wouldn’t make an ass of himself anyway, and now that he’d spent some time with Rita, he realized she wasn’t the do-him-for-a-ride-home type.