Santa Reads Romance (6 page)

He had been wrapped all over her, and to make matters worse, Benny was tangled up in there with them, too. The three of them lay there like a multi-tentacled lump of snoozing flesh.

The man might suffer insomnia on occasion, but when he did fall asleep, he slept like the dead.

“Hunter!” She jabbed an elbow in his side.

“Nnnn,” he mumbled into the curve of her neck. The man was too comfortable.

“Claude?”

She felt him smile against the skin of her throat. “No.” He snuggled in and went back to sleep. After a few minutes, May gave up on the idea of untangling herself and fell asleep again as well.

The next time she woke, Hunter was up and making coffee in the kitchenette.

That's when she discovered him draped over the refrigerator drinking the Half-and-Half.
From the carton.

She let out an ear-piercing shriek.

Stupefied, Hunter stared at her, a mustache of white coating his upper lip.

May made a dive for the carton, rescuing what was left of her cream. “You fiend!” She clutched the carton to her bosom.

“What in the world is wrong with you?”

“I'm a writer; I have to have coffee! It's our lifeblood; our adrenaline!”

Having had a great deal of experience with the breed, Hunter calmly inquired, “Can't you drink it black?”

“No!” She clutched the carton tighter. “It's my one weakness. My God, you drank almost half the container!”

He gave her a patient look. “Your
one
weakness,” he said dryly.

“And you were drinking right from the carton!” She screwed up her face. “Eew! I hate it when men do that! What is it— something genetic with you guys?”

She ranted on until he poured her a cup of coffee, pried the cream lose from her, plopped some into her cup, and brought it to her lips, forcing her to drink.

Those silver eyes flashing all the while in amusement.

She was fine after the first cup.

May glanced to where he was sitting by the fire. What was he reading that had him so engrossed? He hadn't lifted his nicely shaped nose from that book in hours.

She squinted her eyes to read the title. No wonder. It was one of her favorite authors and the woman wrote steam heat. Her love scenes could blister paint from a wall. Smiling, she went back to her own story.

Hunter closed the book and leaned his back against the wall of the cabin.

He had just had an incredible revelation.

He had just realized that all these years he had known next to nothing about women. Not according to these books, anyway.

Like most men, he had always assumed that women wanted the same things men did. Now, he realized, they wanted something
else.
Something completely different. Something more.

Did they really go for the swaggering, drag-them-by-the-hair, boy-next-door type? And what did that mean? How could one man be all those things?

Did a man with a heavy-lidded expression— whatever the hell
that
was— turn them into… He tried to recall how the last author had phrased it. “A bowl of mush.”

And those love scenes.

Mama mia.

They were beyond even his imagination. Since Hunter had always prided himself as a man with an excellent imagination, especially in bed, he was impressed.
I've discovered something here.

It was a blueprint! A set of directions. Waiting in every bookstore, supermarket, and airport for any man smart enough to find it.

His sights rested on May. Luscious, soft, sweet-smelling May. Totally-oblivious-to-her-own-appeal May. Who had made him stone hard with one sweep of those sexy green eyes.

Hunter smiled wickedly. The theory was at least worth a test run.

T
hat night Hunter came out of his shower wrapped in the quilt.

He sat by the fireplace and pretended to read. Making doubly sure the quilt slipped over his shoulder and down one side of his chest.

May finished the last sentence in her chapter and gratefully closed down her computer. “Well, that does it for toni—”

Hunter was sitting by the fire dressed in nothing but that fluffy comforter. May swallowed.
Is he naked under there?

Firelight bounced off the highlights in his rich brown hair, gilding his shoulder and chest. May noted that said shoulder was plenty muscular and said chest was nicely delineated.

Hunter shifted his attention from his book to her, gazing at her with a carefully constructed, boyishly sweet, totally innocent expression. Like the book said. “Were you saying something?”

She quaked a bit under that intense regard. “N-no, just that I'm finished working for the night.”

“Oh. Were you going to take a shower? I washed all my clothes and hung them up over the tub, but I'll take them down if you need to use it.”

“Thanks.” Her voice cracked a bit. She was right; he was naked under there.

It was sweet of him to offer to clear the shower for her… although, she didn't want him to move just yet. He looked awfully cute sitting there quietly reading a book.

Naked.

But for the quilt.

“It'll just take me a minute.” He stood up, clumsily gathering the quilt about him. A section accidentally parted, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of tanned, muscled thigh before his fist clenched the material closed.

May forced herself to look away. Unfortunately, the picture must have seared in her brain, for she could not seem to shake it.

Hunter exited the bathroom, his damp clothes draped over his arm.

“You
washed
the velvet suit?” she asked incredulously.

“Uh-huh. Why? Is something wrong?” He looked at her earnestly.

She didn't have the heart to tell him. He'd find out soon enough when it dried. And could stand on its own.

She straightened the stack of papers she had printed out, scanning them for typos. A voice came from right behind her chair and it sounded like a croaking bullfrog.

“You must be stiff from sitting here all day; would you like me to massage—”

She gaped at him over her shoulder. “What happened to your voice?”

He seemed surprised at her reaction. He frowned. “I'm speaking to you in a husky murmur.”

“Well, don't. You sound like a foghorn at low tide.”

Hunter stroked his freshly shaved jaw. “I must be doing it wrong. Can you demonstrate it for me?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Where did you ever get such a crazy idea? And why do you want to talk in a husky murmur?”

“I'm… testing out something. Go with me on this, okay?”

She expelled a gust of breath. The man was strange. “All right. Try this.” She lowered her voice to a throaty, intimate drawl. “
The shower's ready and waiting…
”

Hunter's eyes glazed over. His heart kick-started. He leaned toward her…

“Your turn,” she said in her normal voice.

Hunter pulled up short. Well, it sure worked on him! Positive that he could give as good as he got, he cleared his throat to try again.

Resting his forearm on the back of her chair, he bent close to her, whispering softly, “Your… shower is
ready
and I'm waiting… ”

May's eyes widened. “Th-that's good.” More than just good. Drooling good.

The corners of Hunter's mouth curved. He decided to move in a little closer to her. He wanted to kiss that little curve on the corner of her mouth that had been fascinating him since he met her.

May bounced out of her chair. “Guess I better take advantage of it then, huh?” She dashed to the bathroom.

Just before she closed the door, she called out, “Cedric?”

“No,” he yelled back, smiling.
It was working.
He could feel it in his… bones.

The thought made him laugh. Huskily.

“
M
y underwear is still damp. I guess I'll have to sleep like this.”

Hunter gestured to the quilt covering his bronzed skin and gave her an apologetic “it's beyond my control— what can I do?” look which didn't quite pass muster.

May's black brow notched. The man was getting decidedly frisky. And if he thought he was crawling into bed with her buck naked, he had another think coming. There was no chance she was going to wake up in the morning wrapped up with an
in-the-raw
Hunter.

She marched to the bathroom, where he had slung the clothes he'd washed over the shower rod. Hunter followed behind warily. May looked like she meant business.

Spotting the paisley silk, she whipped the shorts off the rack and grabbed her blow dryer. Adjusting the heat setting to low, she held the very edge of the garment up between two fingers as if it might bite her at any moment and blasted the dampness right out of it.

Hunter's lips parted slightly. Now, why hadn't he ever thought of that? His second thought was: foiled.

May turned to him with his boxers dangling from her index finger. The arrangement of her features was definitely smug. “There you go— nice and dry.”

Sheepishly, Hunter reached for them. “Ah, yeah. Thanks.”

Once again, when they got into bed they turned their backs to each other.

Just before May drifted off, she asked him in the darkness, “Chester?”

Hunter smiled, drowsy. “Nope.” He rubbed his silk-covered backside against her flannel-covered one before falling into a restful sleep.

H
unter tossed a piece of apple to Benny, then crunched into his fourth apple of the day. And it was only late afternoon. He was getting mighty sick of apples.

Well, beggars couldn't be choosers. Desultorily he wolfed down the fruit. He was starving.

Those frozen meals were not enough for him, even though May had been giving him two of the tiny cuisine meals every night.

His silver gaze wandered to the windows. It had stopped snowing this morning but it was a real mess out there. There was no chance of getting to his car. Not without boots and a plow.

He looked down at his wardrobe. May had dug out a pair of her black sweat pants this morning after he discovered that the red velvet suit was now a free-standing sculpture. They fit him like a second skin and only came to mid-calf on him, but he had been determined to ram down into them.

There was a faint floral perfume to the pants which evoked May. The fact that he was
inside
them, surrounded by the scent, made him… bulge. A situation made more blatant by the stretchy material.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, wishing it were something else. Something May.

This morning she had been been draped over his back, her cheek using his shoulder as a pillow. One of her small hands had found its way around his waist to rest flat against his lower stomach, just above the band of his shorts.

In his sleep his hand had come over hers, making sure she didn't leave the needy spot. He was uncomfortably aroused and had a hell of a time disengaging himself from her without waking her up.

The memory of it alone was enough to get him going again.

Frustrated, he grabbed up another book.
Rough Possession
was the title. Hunter quickly threw it down and picked up another.
Day for Knight.
That sounded innocuous enough.

He began to read.

Across the room, May furtively eyed Hunter.

He was engrossed in his book and he didn't seem to be paying any attention to her.

Good.

Her hand inched slowly to the stack of papers on her lap. The stack that was hiding the half-eaten package of M&M's she had found in the bottom of her purse this morning.

She was starving.

In desperation she had tackled her pocketbook for booty and had come up with a small treasure trove.

Covertly she rooted around in the little bag, her finger snagging the small candy-coated jewel. Glancing his way one more time to be certain the coast was clear, she secretively brought the nugget of heaven to her mouth where she sucked on it for five minutes, savoring every molecule.

When it was over, her eyes were dilated with chocolate satisfaction.

Hunter was still engaged in the book. And looking damn fine, she thought resentfully. Those black sweat pants had been a mistake. Instead of covering him up and removing temptation from her sight, they seemed to be doing the opposite. The clingy material delineated every muscle in his strong thighs.

Every muscle.

May fanned herself with a sheet of paper. Hunter was packing.

She rummaged around for another M&M.

“What are you eating?”

May's head snapped up, her face flaming guiltily. “What?”

Hunter's silver eyes narrowed. “Don't what me— you've got something stashed away under those papers. What is it?” He tossed his book down. Rising to his feet, he began stalking her.

She didn't know why she did what she did.

There must have been a little devil on her shoulder.

She looked the publisher square in the eye and, parting her lips, she stuck out her tongue and flaunted the yellow M&M at him.

It was like waving a red flag at a bull.

Hunter charged her.

Squealing, May bolted out of her chair and took off. The papers and the candy package which had been on her lap toppled to the floor.

Hunter stopped briefly to grab the empty M&M wrapper. Then he turned and sets his sights on her.

“Last one,” May taunted around the candy in her mouth.

Hunter lunged for her.

If she hadn't backed herself against a wall she might have escaped.

His palms came down on either side. He pinned her in place with the lower half of his body. Even through her jeans, May had no trouble feeling the hardness that pressed against her. Her breath caught in her throat.

She looked up into his face. A lock of mahogany hair had fallen over his forehead, giving his face a definite rakish cast.

As he bent his head, May noted that he didn't seem to be thinking about candy anymore. By the glint in those silvery eyes, it appeared that Hunter had decided to substitute one gratification for another.