It Must Have Been the Mistletoe... (13 page)

He'd vowed to avoid all of the Cole girls from then on.

So at the moment, he didn't know what pissed him off more. The trouble the sisters caused? Or that, even though
he knew better, just the sight of Rita Cole turned him on like crazy.

“She's trouble, buddy. I just don't want to see you hurt.”

“Don't talk about her like that,” Benny snapped. “Rita's gorgeous. She's the one, you know. The future Mrs. Rodgers. I've been waiting for this chance for years.”

Benny rambled on about her beauty and perfection, showing some scary hints of obsession. Tyler wasn't sure if the guy even saw her as a person or as a walking, talking blow-up doll.

Years of accumulated frustration, not all of it sexual, boiled over when Rita, squeezing between bodies to slide her tray onto the bar, gave Benny a quick hug.

Tyler's body hit automatic meltdown. God, she was gorgeous. A sexy combination of a forties' pinup girl and a sweet girl-next-door, she'd filled his dreams for almost a decade now. He'd only seen her twice in the past eight years, and now she was right next to him. Close enough to reach out and run his fingers through her tousled black hair. To see if her skin was as silky smooth as it looked. To taste her full lips.

As if echoing his thoughts, Benny's pleasured groan was the last straw. Tyler had to get the guy to give up his obsession. Maybe then he could finally give up his, too.

His body overruling his brain, Tyler stepped around Benny and wrapped an arm around Rita's surprisingly fragile shoulders. Pulling her to his side, he gave himself three seconds to enjoy the twin thrills of her surprise and his own lust. He reveled in the feel of her lush curves pressing into his chest, her shocked breath wafting over his lips as she gasped.

Then he made his move.

“Hey Rita, nice to see you again,” he said before taking her mouth in a slippery, hot, wet and wild kiss.

T
HIS WAS WHAT DROWNING
in lust must feel like. Waves of passion poured over Rita, overwhelming her senses with excitement. She tried to catch her breath, but her mouth was too busy playing slippery-slide against a pair of deliciously erotic lips.

Her body melted as molten heat swirled. Jellylike, her legs buckled. Rita had never had a kiss like this. Never. A single hands-free, fully dressed kiss and she could taste the edge of a hot, wild orgasm.

Wanting—needing—more, she pressed tight against the hard, well-sculpted chest and moaned.

It wasn't until someone tugged at her arm that she realized she'd lost her mind. Kissing a total stranger. At work. Insane. Barely cognizant of the whoops and whistles, Rita slowly pulled back to stare up into blue eyes she recognized from her naughtiest secret dreams.

Tyler? Tyler Ramsey? No way. Had Santa come early?

“What the hell d'ya think you're doing?” Benny yelped, his voice breaking through the sex haze fogging Rita's mind.

“Benny…” She trailed off, not sure what she wanted to say since her brain was still stuttering.

“You…he…how could you…?” Benny babbled, his eyes huge behind thick lenses.

The hurt in his glare made her realize that she was still plastered against the best kisser her mouth had ever encountered. Her breath shuddered when she forced herself to peel her breasts off his chest. Rita took two steps back and blinked a few times, trying to shake off the fog of lust.

“Tyler Ramsey?” she breathed, her eyes as big as Benny's. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Screwing me over's what he's doing,” Benny growled.

“C'mon, Ben, you saw for yourself how that went down,” Tyler drawled, shoving one hand through the sandy hair that had fallen over his sky-blue eyes. “All I did was prove my point.”

“What point?” Rita asked, her back going up at the dismissal in Tyler's voice. She tried to ignore the familiar pain, but, dammit, she recognized that tone. It was the same one he'd always used when referencing her.

“You betrayed me,” the little guy whined, glaring at her. Then he turned the evil eye on Tyler. “Fine. You want her? Then you can take her home.”

“Huh?”
Betrayed?

Ignoring her, the men faced off. Tyler reached out as if to give Benny a calming pat on the head at the same time that Benny swung his fist.

“Aw, Ben,” he said with a wince as they all watched Benny miss, thumping a huge bruiser of a guy in the back of the head instead of Tyler. Furious, the man turned. His gaze slid past Benny as if he wasn't even there, landing accusingly on Tyler instead.

With a sigh, Tyler ducked the guy's massive punch. Coming up, fists swinging and wearing a huge grin, he proved his hometown rep as an ass-kicker was still valid when he dove into the brawl.

Yelping, Rita barely made it back against the bar before
the fight went viral. Grunts and crunching groans sounded over the taunting cheers of the onlookers.

Ten minutes, a bloody lip and a few broken bar stools later, Tyler finished his chat with the local cops. Rita's boss stood in the still-crowded space, looking furious under his Santa hat. While he chewed Tyler out, Rita tried to calm a sputtering Benny.

“Look, blame it on the mistletoe,” Tyler interrupted Larson's lecture. “It's no big. I'll pay for damages. Kissing Rita was worth every penny.”

“What?” In the middle of assuring Benny that Tyler had just been saying hi and didn't mean anything by the kiss, Rita turned to stare into her longtime crush's sexy blue eyes. She saw the desire battling with amusement there, and couldn't hold back an answering smile. “Worth every penny, hmm?”

She hadn't meant to sound so flirtatious, but she couldn't help it. Tyler Ramsey always made her feel she had something to prove. But her comments were the final straw for Benny. He threw up his puny arms as if shouting
betrayal,
and stormed out. Rita's protest was lost on his departing back.

“Miss Cole, were you the center of this altercation?”

It suddenly hit home just what that kiss had cost her. Rita's lust melted fast as she glared at Tyler. He wiped his swollen lip with the back of his hand and grinned. Desperate, she gave her boss a hopeful little smile and tried to BS her way out of the mess.

“Now Mr. Larson, you know how these things go…”

“Are you trying to say you were innocent?”

Tyler's snort of laughter made Rita grind her teeth.

“You know the rules, Miss Cole,” Larson shot back, not waiting for her answer. “Get your personal effects and meet me upstairs in ten minutes. I'll have your final wages prepared.”

Ignoring her protests, as well as the echoing arguments from the surrounding waitresses and the bartender, the man
ager swept through the crowd toward a door marked Private. Fighting off despair, Rita watched him go. Then she sucked in a breath deep enough to make Tyler's eyes glint in heated appreciation.

“I hope you're happy,” she muttered. “You couldn't just say hello like a normal person?”

“I thought you liked the kiss.” Looking just as cocky as he had when he'd raided the girls' locker room, Tyler leaned his hip on a bar stool and gave her his patented
aw, shucks
smile.

“That kiss wasn't worth the spilled beer,” she lied.

“Sweetheart, you're breaking my heart.”

“I'd like to break your head,” she snapped. He'd ruined everything. She needed this job, dammit. She had to get home. She remembered how he'd ruined her sister's prom and glared at him. Obviously Tyler was living proof of once a gorgeous, sexy jerk, always a gorgeous, sexy jerk.

Then, eyes narrowing, she dug her fists into the velvety fabric of her skirt. “But instead, I'm going to let you make it all better.”

Tyler's smile took on a wicked edge. His gaze cruised her curves.

“All better, how?” he murmured, his meltingly flirtatious stare sweeping over her like a tingling caress.

Rita ignored it. She'd be damned if he'd fog her brain with sex thoughts. His eyes traced the curve of her breasts beneath the tight red top, sending a shaft of heat spiraling deep in her belly. Okay, so she'd settle for not letting him know he'd fogged her brain.

Plan B was kaput, so she needed her wits to develop a Plan C. And fast.

“You not only got me fired, Tyler, you lost me my way home.”

Before he could do more than wince, Rita was up in his
face, toe to toe as she drilled one red-tipped finger into his chest. And she hoped like hell it hurt.

“You heard Benny,” she said, despite the sick feeling in her stomach. The solution she'd come up with wasn't one she liked, but it was all she had. “You caused this problem and he told you exactly how to fix it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about the fact that you just volunteered to be my escort home for the holidays.”

 

C
ARTING THE LAST BIN
to the door, Rita brushed her bangs out of her eyes with her shoulder and blew out a breath. A childhood on the road while her musician parents performed bluegrass, plus her own inability to settle in one place, made moving second nature. A half-dozen plastic storage bins, a couple suitcases and her tote bag and she was ready to roll.

She dropped the bin on top of the hand truck and frowned at the random cardboard box next to her things.

“Shawn? What's this?” she yelled to her soon-to-be ex-roommate. Shawn trudged out, a huge mug of coffee almost hiding her face.

“S'my present to you,” the petite brunette said around a yawn. “I know you didn't make enough to cover that last payment on your 'rents gift, so I figured this'd help out.”

Rita eyed the box. It was half the size of her storage bins, hardly big enough to hold an antique record player. “Is it like a do-it-yourself thing?” she joked, poking at the cardboard.

Shawn choked on her coffee. Laughing, she wiped her chin and patted the box. “How'd you guess?”

Eyes narrowed, Rita flipped a glance from the box to Shawn to the darkened window. It was a quarter to five in the morning—the time she'd told Tyler to pick her up. Did she have time to play games? Then again, what were the chances that he'd really show?

“So what is it? A new toy?” she asked, peeking out the window.

Not that she was anxious or anything. Tyler Ramsey was a first-class jerk, albeit one helluva gorgeous first-class jerk. But gorgeous didn't matter, because he was just a means to an end. Plan C.

She pressed her hand to her belly to settle the dancing nerves. Just because he'd knocked her on her ass with those magic lips of his didn't mean she was itching to see him again. She hadn't even put makeup on, proof positive that she wasn't looking to make an impression.

If he showed up, that was. Which he probably wouldn't.

“More like toys,” Shawn said, pulling Rita's attention back to the mystery box with a gesture to open it.

Rita tugged up the flaps, then frowned. She shook the box, staring at the colorful array of vibrators, cock rings and God knew what else as they tumbled together. Mouth dragging the floor, she gave her roommate a shocked stare. “What the…?”

Shawn poked her fingernail at a neon green rubber dildo. “They're discontinued toys. Last year's models, overstocks, a few rejects. There's a product guide in there I printed with their names, features, retail price. Should be all you need.”

Rita goggled, actually goggled. What the hell?

Her gaze bounced from Shawn's sleepy face to the box of misfit sex toys. “I'm out of a job, homeless and heading to my parents' for some holiday humiliation. And you're giving me…the promise of satisfaction?” She glanced at the contents of the box again and added, “Over and over again?”

Shawn smirked. “If that's how you want it, sure. I figured you could, you know, sell them. Like they do at those toy parties and stuff? These are free and clear,” she assured Rita. Shawn owned an adult bookstore, and while she was a strong supporter of all things kink, she'd never do anything illegal.

“Look, if you won't take them as a present, take them as
an apology.” Shawn stuffed her hands in her robe pockets and hunched her shoulders. “I hate that I can't hold the room for you. It's bad enough you're out of a job, but…”

“You need to make rent.” Rita didn't want to add to Shawn's guilt. “And I appreciate the idea, I really do—”

“Don't refuse,” Shawn interrupted. “Just, you know, think about it. If you decide the idea sucks, you can dump the box on the side of the road.”

Rita snickered, not sure which amused her more. The image of some random traveler finding a box of neon dildos. Or the idea of heading home with the hunkiest man she'd ever lusted after, carrying her own arsenal of sex toys.

 

T
YLER'S FINGERS RAPPED
a fast rhythm on the steering wheel as he stared through the light dusting of snow at a dark apartment building. Tiny white lights shone from the lobby window, glinting off the red plastic bow on the door wreath.

What the hell was he doing? Guilt didn't work on him. He grimaced, shoulders hunching just a little. At least, it wasn't supposed to work on him. But Rita had been right. His being a jackass had caused her problems. So here he was, five o'clock in the morning, playing chauffeur.

He knew it was a huge mistake, yet he couldn't convince himself to leave. He owed her. Sure, driving her home was gonna piss Benny off all over again. And yes, once Tyler's own brother found out, Randy would join Benny in wanting to kick some ass. Yet he couldn't stop himself.

That was Rita Cole for you. From myopic Benny, who had no clue what she was like but worshipped her from afar, to gullible young Randy, who'd actually dated her back in high school and still carried a painful torch. Even Tyler himself had spent way too many teenage nights dreaming about her.

Teenage, hell—he'd tossed and turned all last night reliving that kiss. The feel of her soft lips, the sensation of her curves pressed against his body. Her scent, her taste. The way her
eyes had gone all soft and sexy when she stared up at him as if he was the answer to her every desire.

Tyler dropped his head on the steering wheel and let it bounce a few times.

He had to get a grip.

And where was she? He glanced at the building again, then at his watch. Five more minutes and he was out of here. Even as he assured himself she wouldn't show up, a part of him, the part that had crushed on her for years, wondered what it'd be like to spend a couple days with Rita. To actually get to know her. To find out if that sweetness he'd always suspected was under the surface of her flirty looks was real or imagined.

Four minutes of enough reluctant fantasies to fog his windows and Tyler reached for the ignition. He couldn't take any more. He'd paid his debt by showing up. It was better for everyone that she'd blown him off.

As if she'd known his absolute limit, before he could turn the key there was a knock on the truck window. Tyler gave a manly effort to disguise his startled jump.

“Rita.” Shit. Tyler told himself the surge rocketing through his system was irritation, not excitement. He stared, not sure what to make of the diva-turned-waif standing on the sidewalk. Unlike the woman he'd expected, she wasn't fluff-haired and paint-faced, or dressed in diva-wear. Her hair was a straight fall—black as night—to shoulders wrapped in a puffy red jacket that'd seen better days. Her skin was as pale as usual, but Tyler was pretty sure the dewy glow was natural, not cosmetic. Not a speck of glitter or leather in sight.

His brow furrowed as he stepped out of the truck. Where was the supersexy Rita he could lust after and dismiss?

“Good morning,” she said with a bright smile that made him think more about hugging her than stripping her naked. Dammit. Then she gestured to a stack of storage containers piled on a dolly. “Wanna help me load these in the back?”