It Must Have Been the Mistletoe(58)

The question was, was he the do-the-girl-his-brother-had-loved type?



FOUR HOURS LATER, TYLER stood before a glass door painted with a snowman in a Santa hat. He shoved it open with as much force as the wind would allow, entered an almost-empty diner and stomped the snow from his feet.

There on the counter next to the doughnut display was Rita’s little display of sex toys, all tied in festive ribbons or tucked into jolly red-and-white fuzzy stockings.

Looking like a naughty elf displaying her wares, Rita perched on the red and chrome stool next to the toys. The lights from a seventies’ era silver metallic Christmas tree flashed, giving the entire scene a surreal edge.

“Don’t you look like quite the grump. Or in keeping with the season, make that Scrooge.” She winked, then flicked a quick finger at the fringe of the snow-encrusted scarf he wore. “What’s the matter?”

Frustrated on more levels than he’d known he had, Tyler stared into the dancing depths of her dark green eyes. Lush lashes and the exaggerated dark liner gave her the look of a very satisfied, very seductive cat.

A cat that had gotten over any and all skittishness he might have comforted himself by thinking she felt. That’s what he got for relaxing his guard. Now he saw her as a woman. A woman who was sweet, funny and totally devoted to her family. One that, damn him, he actually liked.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

“We’re stuck.” Tyler gave her the news as he threw himself into an empty booth and bounced a fist on the table. “Snow’s shut down the freeway until tomorrow.”

Eyes widening, Rita glanced past him at the falling snow.

“The state trooper told me the motel up the highway is filled,” Tyler added. “He suggested we hunker down here or in the truck.”

“Be right back,” she murmured.

Tyler shrugged and continued to glare at the fluffy white curse. It was his own fault. He’d just had to take the long, scenic route. If he’d headed straight for Tennessee, they’d have missed the storm and been home tomorrow.

His only consolation was that they’d be spending the night in the truck. Yes, it’d be cold as hell and miserably uncomfortable. But the combination of discomfort and a semi-public parking lot would insure he kept his hands off Rita’s tempting body.

Maybe.

“Good news,” she said as she sashayed back over to the booth, two cups of steaming coffee in hand. “The cook, Doris, and I were chatting. She’s trading me a Merry Merry Mistletoe stocking of toys in exchange for letting us use the room upstairs.”

As always, the mention of Rita’s little sideline flipped his switch, tuning his imagination to the many different ways he’d like to feel her come.

And now they had a room? His resistance was down to the dregs. There was no way he’d be able to keep his hands off her if they shared a room.

“Don’t worry,” she said, patting his hand as if she’d read his thoughts. “It’ll only be for one night. Your virtue is safe.”

She grinned, wiggled her brows, then added, “Enough.”





5




TYLER LUGGED HIS BACKPACK and Rita’s tote bag up a rickety flight of dry-rotted wood stairs, squinting against the brightly colored Christmas lights flashing through the snow flurries. Still, when he reached the top step, he hesitated. Could he handle this? A gust of snow hit his face like a fist. Did he have a choice?

Fingers numb in his thick gloves, he pried the door open to find a warm studio apartment that carried the fading scent of baked bread. A pot of coffee sat warming on the hot plate. A really pathetic Charlie Brown Christmas tree listed in the corner, boughs sagging under the weight of the tinsel. And Rita, looking like pure temptation, curled up all cozy and welcoming in a blanket on the floor.

Maybe a night in the truck wouldn’t hurt that much?

“Heat, food, a cozy place to crash,” Rita said from across the room. “All the comforts of home, huh?”

Tyler grunted. He did a quick inventory. A table, two chairs, a lumpy couch and a couple end tables.

And no bed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. So softly he could barely hear the flirtation beneath her teasing tone. “Afraid I’ll bite?”

Hell, yeah.

“You’re hardly the scary type, sweetheart,” he said. Her words were enough to goad him over the threshold, though. “I’m just not big on sharing space.”

“Right,” she said with an agreeable nod. “Because we’ve just spent the day in a four-by-five-foot truck cab, and I noticed how totally uncomfortable and out of sorts that made you.”

Well, he’d walked right into that one. Tyler wondered if the snow had frozen a few too many brain cells. If it had, his lust should thaw them right out. God, he had to get out of here before he did something crazy. Like give in to not only his current desire, but the other ten years of built-up passion that’d been trying to explode ever since he’d tasted Rita in that damned bar.