Snowed Under
from “The Night Before Christmas Anthology”
By
Erin McCarthy
Chapter One
Claire Robbins was walking down
A gigantic arc of snow, that is.
Head to toe it landed, like someone had tossed a big
old bucket of slushies at her. Claire gasped at the ice-cold impact as it
doused her hair, slapped her cheek, slid under her cashmere scarf, and bounced
off her chest. She blinked hard, wet snow falling off her eyelashes, as she
turned toward the sound her brain was quickly processing.
The snowplow.
Going thirty miles an hour, its shovel aimed right at
the sidewalk, shooting massive amounts of new and old snow onto every fire
hydrant, every street sign, and every person stupid enough not to dodge it.
"Jerk!" she screamed after him.
"Reject!" She was guessing there were notches on the side of his truck
for each person he had nailed with the wet cold stuff, and she'd probably just
given him number three hundred and twelve. She could imagine him cackling as he
watched her in his rearview mirror.
Claire grabbed a clump of snow off her scarf and flung
it toward the street at his yellow flashing lights, but he was thirty feet away
already.
"Evil. Just evil." Claire set down her
shopping bags and stomped a little, trying to knock some of the snow off her
body. A clump fell off her knee onto her foot.
She brushed futilely at her hair and spat some snow
off her lip. "Scheisse."
Needing to
swear, she did it in German, just in case a little kid was within earshot.
"This stuff is cold!"
Twelve blocks from her apartment, she was going to
have hypothermia by the time she got home. And she'd been in such a good mood,
too, checking off everyone on her shopping list except for her mom, all while
singing along off-key to the piped-in Jessica Simpson Christmas CD at
Williams-Sonoma.
Claire sucked in her breath as she started trudging
toward home, her feet making an ominous crunching sound. She had stupidly worn
ballet flats instead of boots, and the tops of her feet were wearing a veil of
snow sludge. Tapping her toes on the concrete to try and shake some off, she
readjusted her bags in her hands.
Not enough cash on her for a cab, since she'd blown
her last three dollars on a Godiva truffle, she pondered finding a cash machine
or calling a friend to come and get her. But by then, she figured, she could
have walked home.
At least she'd found her brother Derek a gift—a
gorgeous pair of cuff links—and a bread maker for Derek's wife, Reese. Which
reminded her…
"Duh, Claire!" she said out loud, mentally
smacking herself. "You are half a block from Derek's apartment."
Okay, this made everything seem a lot better. She
could be there in five. Derek and Reese were in
Derek liked pie, and Reese frequently baked for him.
Maybe Claire could even score a piece of chocolate pie.
Claire walked carefully, crunching and waddling like a
blonde penguin.
Maybe she could salvage the evening, and if anyone
deserved pie tonight, it was her.
By the time she
got herself into her brother's apartment, after four tries shoving the key in
the lock with numb, beet-red fingers, she was shaking and thinking only of
warm, soft things. Bunnies. Teddy bears. Fleece. Warm
Her hair was crystallized. It was possible her
earlobes had dropped onto
Frozen body and numb brain cells might account for the
fact that she didn't scream when she stepped into the apartment and saw a man
sitting on the couch, watching TV.
"D-D-D-Derek?" she stuttered, even as logic
slowly told her that wasn't her brother. This was a light-brown head of hair,
and her brother's was darker.
Which meant this was a stranger, and she was going to
die a human Frosty because somehow she couldn't seem to make her brain command
her frozen feet to turn and run.
The head turned and she decided it was worse than
death. It was her brother's former coworker and her youthful crush, Justin
Fairbanks. Staring at her with wide eyes.
Jumping up he said, "Claire? Is that you? What the hell
happened? You look like you got run over by the Zamboni at the ice rink."
Oh, God, just take her out back and shoot her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked,
deciding that she was lying to herself. Justin was her youthful crush and her twenty-five-year-old
crush. He was gorgeous, her every fantasy sprung to life, with a rangy lean
frame, well-defined muscles, and a crooked little smile that just screamed sex.
Well, that's what it screamed to her anyway.
Of course, he had always treated her like an annoying
little sister. But now that she was no longer eighteen, maybe, just maybe, he
might see her as the adult that she was. Or, more likely, he would forever see
her as the blonde teenage cheerleader she had been.
"Did you fall down in a snowdrift?" Justin
asked in disbelief as he walked toward her.
Oh, yeah. He still had her in the not-so-bright-blonde
category.
"No!" She had an MBA, a position in
marketing at an advertising agency, her own apartment, and expensive shoes. Yet
all he saw was a child.
Maybe this was her chance to show Justin once and for
all that she was definitely a woman, and then some. This could be a golden
opportunity. To see if her fantasies about Justin and his penis size had any
merit.
To have some rocking Christmas sex.
Time to take lemons and make some lemonade.
Frozen lemonade. But hopefully lemonade nonetheless.
"S-s-s-snowplow," she said.
Now if she could just stop her teeth from chattering, the
attempted seduction of Justin could begin.
Chapter Two
Justin came around the couch,
more than a little startled to see Derek's little sister looking like she'd
been dipped in water, then strung upside down in a meat locker. Her hair was a
solid three inches straight up in the air.
"The snowplow did this? Jesus." Reaching
out, he peeled off her scarf, wincing when it made a sound like duct tape
coming off the roll.
Normally he wouldn't have come within three feet of
Claire, and touching her would have been out of the question, given that she
inspired thoughts in him that could only be considered perverted. She was ten
years younger than him, and just a kid.
Well, not so much a kid anymore, he had to admit, as
removing the scarf revealed some killer cleavage. He swallowed hard and forced
himself to look up. Into her eyes. Away from her hot, round, beckoning…
Damn. So Claire wasn't a teenager anymore—big friggin'
deal. She was still off-limits, and he'd rather bump a beehive wearing nothing
but honey than have to endure the temptation of her half-dressed, but she was
in pretty bad shape at the moment.
She needed to get out of her wet clothes pronto, and
to help her like a decent person would, he needed to suppress his lust. His
very large, growing lust.
"Let me get your bags." He took them and set
them on the floor. Unzipped her coat. Jerked it off of her by the sleeves,
careful not to touch anything but the wool. Certainly not any of what was under
it. Like her skin. Or her breasts.
He was a sick human being. Just absolutely nasty. It
had been bad enough that he'd felt a disturbing attraction to Claire when he'd
first met her six years ago, but then, he'd dismissed it as lack of sex. FBI
training had cut into his social life and he hadn't been getting any.
But there was no excuse for this. He'd had sex just
the week before.
Claire just stood there, arms still hovering out away
from her body. "Why are you here?" she asked again.
"Oh, uh, Derek knows I'm here. I'm in town
visiting my parents, but I didn't want to stay at their house, if you know what
I mean. Just a little too crowded with all my nieces and nephews, so Derek
offered me his apartment for a few days since he's out of town."
"How fortuitous," she said.
Forta-what? He could barely see straight, let alone
process words with more than one syllable. Justin took her hands between his
and rubbed gently to warm them up. They were so small, so cold. He looked her
over and saw pink cheeks, watery eyes, and soaking wet jeans from the mid-thigh
down. He was surely going to regret saying this, but…
"You should take a warm shower. Not hot, or your
skin will itch from the temperature change, but warm." He let go of her
hands, inspected them for signs of frostbite. They were bright red, which was a
good sign. "I don't think you have frostbite, but you need to get warmed
up."
"Good idea," she said, flexing her fingers
before bending over to pull off her shoes.
"So, how you been, Claire? Before today, I mean.
I haven't seen you since Derek got married. Man, it's been almost a year now
since his wedding."
During which he'd spent the entire day dodging Claire,
telling himself he would not look at the way her silky straight bridesmaid
dress clung to her nipples.
He watched her struggle with the slip-on shoes, trying
over and over to tug them off, while balancing on one foot, shivers passing
through her.
Christ. Rolling his eyes and praying for strength,
Justin took Claire's arm. "Sit down. I'll help you."
"Thank you," she said, breathlessly,
dropping down onto the couch. She stuck her foot out in front of her.
"I've been great, actually. I got my Masters degree a year and a half ago,
and I've been working with the Morton-Media Advertising Agency. It's a fabulous
position and I'm learning a lot."
"Sounds good." Justin squatted down, braced
himself, and gently pulled her shoe off from heel to toe. "You still
living with your mom and dad?" He really hoped she was. It would make her
seem all that much more out of reach. Remind him that with Claire he'd be
cradle-robbing.
"Of course not," she said, sounding
offended. "I moved out years ago. In my early twenties."
Justin was suddenly aware of how close he was to her.
He was eye level with those very breasts he was trying to pretend didn't exist.
He ripped the other shoe off with less precision and stood up. "Go ahead
and get in the shower, Claire."
"Okay." She winced as she stood, her
movements awkward. "But I seriously don't think I can get these wet jeans
off." Heading toward the bathroom, she lifted her hand and wiggled it.
"I can't feel my fingers. Can you help me take my pants off?"
She did not just say that.
"Uh … sure."
He did not just say that.
Justin moved behind the couch and plucked up a throw
pillow so she wouldn't see his massive erection.
This really made no sense at all. Here he was,
thirty-five years old, too old for spontaneous hard-ons, and pretty damn
sexually active, thank you very much. He had a female friend, Karen, who was
very happy to have an entirely commitment-free sexual relationship with him.
They saw each other a couple of times a month when the urge struck either of
them. Dinner, maybe a movie, then a nice piece of ass, and they were done for a
while.
Worked for him.
Except that didn't explain why he was about to go off
in his
She smiled at him, the first one since she'd walked in
the door. "Don't worry, I won't get embarrassed or anything. I'm not shy."
Wonderful. Just what he'd been worried about. Her
modesty. Ha.
Justin dumped the pillow back on the couch and
pictured Derek reconfiguring his face if he touched Claire.
"So, what have you been up to, Justin?" she
called over her shoulder as she headed for the bedroom. "Still living in
"Yes, yes, no, and no." He walked very, very
slowly.
Maybe by the time he got there she would be stripped
all on her own.
Wait a minute. That didn't sound like a good thing for
him to discover either. He stopped so fast he had to grab the wall for balance.
Her head popped around the corner of the door frame.
"What do you do for fun then?"
"I go to the firing range."
She laughed. "No, seriously."
He was thirty-five years old. What did she think he
did in his downtime? "I have a boat. I work out I cut the grass in my
backyard. I go to the movies with scads of beautiful women."
"All at once?" she asked. Then she winked.
She fucking winked at him. What the hell was that? And
emerged from the bedroom with a bundle of clothes in her arms, which didn't
hide the fact that she had peeled off her sweater.
He could see bare arms and hot pink satin peeking
around at him. With those little shiny stones trimming it, the things that
sparkled and reminded him of Vegas showgirls and
"I'm a man of many talents," he told her.
"Oohhh, sounds promising." Claire brushed
past him and dropped the clothes on the floor in the bathroom. "Let's see
if your talents extend to taking off wet jeans. Damp denim has a super-glue
quality to it."
She reached into the shower and turned it on,
stretching and arching and showing him all that pink satin thrust forward
straight at him.
It was a very, very small bathroom.
Knight and his wife weren't particularly neat either.
Their toiletries burst out of the medicine cabinet and covered every spare inch
of counter space. No place to lean there. The burgeoning hamper was filled
beyond the brim with towels and what looked like the legs of jeans. No way he
could sit on that.
The only place to be was exactly where he was—a foot
in front of Claire.
She made a futile attempt to undo her jeans. She
managed the button and half the zipper, and pink popped out at him. He broke
out into a sweat. That damn shower was heating the room, steam swirling all
around them, and he could see her pink panties. See how satin was hugging what
was right behind it.
"That steam feels so good." She rolled her neck,
loosening her shoulders. "I've never been so cold in my whole life."
Justin understood the concept. He was freaking frozen
to the floor.
Another attempt at her jeans and she only got them an
inch down. "Help," she said with a laugh.
Yeah. Real funny. He was just cracking up here.
Alright. He pushed on his fist and popped all his
knuckles. He was going in.
Her skin was cold and clammy, and she shivered when he
made contact right above the waistband of the jeans. Justin jerked back.
"Sorry, are my hands cold?"
He blew on them, bent over, and gripped the front
pockets of her jeans.
"No." Her voice had grown a little husky,
and Justin panicked. He knew that sound. That was a sex sound.
Which shouldn't be coming from little Claire's mouth,
especially not when his mouth was half a millimeter away from her navel and his
hands were jerking down her pants.
He wasn't gentle or subtle in his attempt to get the
task over with, which only served to turn right around and bite him in the ass.
He pulled so hard, the jeans went down her thighs, but the movement ricocheted
her forward. So that her pink panties popped him right in the mouth.
It lasted only a second before he leaped away, but it
was long enough for him to process the smoothness of satin, the contrast of warmth
there where the rest of her was cool. The smell of damp, and perfume, and
something that seemed entirely like arousal to him.
But that was probably wishful thinking, sack of shit
that he was, so he let go of the jeans at her knees and stumbled backward.
"There you go. You should be able to get them the
rest of the way."
Then he took his demanding dick and ran, slamming the
bathroom door behind him.
Claire grabbed
the countertop for support and allowed herself a little whimper. So close, yet
so frustrating.
She didn't understand it. His face had been virtually
in her crotch, and yet, nothing. He was either a man of steel or he had no
interest in her whatsoever.
Which would totally and completely suck, because not
only had she been wanting to jump his bones for half a decade, she had now
managed to get herself a little hot and a lot bothered.
His face had been in her crotch. His breath had blown across
her stomach. Of course she was going to get turned on. Not to mention it had
been eighteen months since she'd had sex. And even then her boyfriend Brian
hadn't been all that great at it. Straight shooting he could do, but the man
didn't know what a tongue was for.
Claire kicked off her jeans violently and stopped her
thought train before it wrecked. The last thing in the world she wanted to be
thinking about was Brian's oral techniques, or lack thereof.
What she wanted to know was Justin's take on tongue
action.
She also wanted to rip his sweatshirt off and try her
own tactile tricks.
Maybe she just needed to be a little more obvious so
he wouldn't have any doubts about what she was offering.
Unless he really didn't want it.
Popping her bra off, she commanded herself to chill
out. Only she couldn't prevent a gasp of utter horror when she looked in the
mirror.
Maldigalo, she silently cursed in Spanish. No wonder Justin
didn't want anything to do with her. She looked like hell.
Touching her wet, stiff, lopsided hair, she groaned.
She looked like one of those freaky, maniacal porcelain dolls her grandmother
collected. "I'm like Bride of Chucky!"
With a Rudolph red nose, scarlet cheeks, cotton candy
pink ears, and a strange magenta streak across her neck. She was the whole
flippin' family of reds.
"Nice. Just fabulous." Ditching her panties,
she stepped in the shower.
"Aaahh. Oh, yeah. Okay, everything's better when
you're warm." That felt so good. The water soothed her, running all
through her clammy hair and down her red face. After washing her hair twice,
and cranking up the heat, she leaned back in the hot stream. She forcibly
relaxed her muscles and used large amounts of Reese's shower gel to massage her
shoulders, arms, inner thighs.
She lingered between her legs with characteristic optimism,
hoping she'd need enticing mango shower gel scent there because Justin would be
inhaling it.
Of course, picturing him doing just that while her
slippery hands slid over her skin had her hitching her breath and reaching out
for the shower wall for support.
That was it.
"Screw this." Turning off the faucet, she
flung back the shower curtain. Squeezed water out of her hair. Stepped out onto
the bath mat.
Time to go for broke.
"Justin?" she called. "I forgot a
towel. Can you bring me one?"
Chapter Three
You know, he was trying to do
the right thing. But it was so damn hard.
Justin pulled his sorry ass off the couch with a sigh
and opened the linen closet in the hall.
Why couldn't Knight's sister be old, married, crabby?
All of the above would be even better.
The closet wasn't in any better order than the
medicine cabinet. Six towels fell on his head when he tried to extract one.
Studying the pile, he carefully found the biggest one and rammed the rest back
in. This blue one was good. It was like a towel and a half. It would go down to
Claire's knees and up to her chin.
He knocked on the bathroom door. "I have a towel
for you."
"Come in."
It occurred to him as he pushed the door open that the
shower wasn't running any longer. And if the shower wasn't running, she
probably wasn't in it. And if she needed a towel, that meant she didn't have
one…
It was too late to retreat.
The door was open and Claire was right in front of
him. Naked.
"Oh, my God," he said, even as his eyes
raced over her body at warp speed.
The view he had was in profile, but it was still a
hell of a view. Her hands were in her hair, squeezing it into a ponytail. The
movement arched her back and raised her breasts enticingly. Her creamy, pink
skin had water rivulets running down it, and every inch was covered in a glossy
damp sheen.
As he watched, a droplet hovered on the tip of her
nipple for the space of a breath before falling off. He almost moaned, and
barely managed to prevent himself from diving to catch that droplet with his
tongue.
Claire's ass was tight and high as she reached up,
with enough curve that his hand itched to race over it, squeeze, slap.
"Thanks." Claire turned and held her hand
out, like there was nothing out of the ordinary happening. Just a stroll in the
park here. Naked.
Justin shook the towel open, frantic.
"Claire!" He held it in front of her like a tarp, tucking it under
her armpits and pushing her arms to her sides so it would stay in place.
"Cover up, for God's sake."
"Oh, calm down, por favor. S'il vous plait. Don't be such a prude,
Justin." She shook her hair back and tried to unpin her hands.
He held fast. No way was he letting that towel drop. A
man only had so much self-control, and his was just about shot.
"A prude? So you think it's okay to just stand
around naked in front of anybody? You might give a guy the wrong idea, you
know."
She rolled her eyes. "You mean like I'm
interested? That I would like to have sex with him?"
"Yes!" Naked pretty much screamed sex to him
when you were with a member of the opposite gender and it wasn't a visit to the
doctor.
"Then I'm doing it right."
"What?" His ears started ringing. His
legs went numb. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Where have you been? I've had a crush on you
since I was eighteen." She licked her very red lips and gave a sensual
smile. "I was hoping you would see tonight as the opportunity I do—to see
if I've been justified in wanting you all these years."
"What exactly are you suggesting?" Justin
was feeling very, very confused. He'd been to a holiday luncheon at his
grandmother's nursing home that afternoon. Maybe the eggnog had been bad and he
was hallucinating.
But it felt all too real when Claire lifted her arms,
taking advantage of his slack hold on her. Two-fisted, she grabbed that towel
and jerked it away from her body, and tossed it to the floor. Then leaned right
up against him, her hands on his shoulders.
Justin shot his arms out like airplane wings so he
wouldn't be tempted to touch.
"I'm suggesting that we spend the night together.
In bed. 'Tis the season to give, after all, and what I want … is you."
"Don't you want an iPod instead? That's what
everybody else wants."
"I already have one."
Then he was out of arguments.
Maybe he could think better if her breasts weren't
pressing into him, and her hips weren't brushing against his. If she wasn't all
snuggly and sexy and rubbing just a little in all sorts of interesting places.
But there was nothing going on upstairs. He was Odie,
the dog from
As far as
fantasies springing to life, this was a pretty damn good one. Claire was
totally naked, wet in more ways than one, and kissing Justin Fairbanks, federal
agent and first-class hottie.
While never a timid sort of girl, even she was a
little surprised by her boldness. But hey, if you wanted something badly
enough, you had to reach out and grab it. Literally.
And she really wanted Justin. At least once.
Too bad the kiss only lasted a microsecond. One
glorious second during which he kissed her back, and the earth tilted, the
heavens burst forth, and a bunch of other metaphorical crap that Claire had
thought was made up until her mouth touched his. In that instant, she realized
it was—ta
da—all
true. Then he ruined her girl moment by yanking his lips away and grabbing her
forearms. Setting her away from him.
Claire sucked in a breath, disappointed, and waited
for him to explain, though she wasn't at all sure she wanted to hear what he
was going to say. He looked pained, and not the least turned-on.
Which was bad. Because she was standing there totally
and completely naked, and if he rejected her, she was going to stick her head
in the sink bowl and drown herself in sheer horror.
"We can't do this. I'm old enough to be your
father," he said.
Her knees sank in relief. Okay. Much better than an
announcement he was secretly married, gay, or thought she was the most
unattractive naked woman he'd ever set eyes on. Better than all of the above,
true, and yet so much more incredibly stupid.
Claire leaned back against the counter, the cool
marble hitting her backside. She propped herself up with her hands and sucked
in her gut, determined to give this one last shot before she slunk off and put
on her brother's sweatpants.
"Wow, you must have been a really mature third
grader then."
"What do you mean?" Justin looked at the
ceiling. At the floor. At a piece of wallpaper that was peeling by the door
frame as he kept picking at it. Anywhere but at her.
Dummy. "I mean you're like nine years older than
me! That's a little young for fatherhood, even for aggressive kids."
He finally looked at her. Shook his head like he
wasn't buying it. "I'm thirty-five. I had a birthday last week."
"Happy birthday. And I have a birthday next week. I'll be twenty-six. See?
Nine years. And I'm old enough to know what I want, and I want you. If you're
not interested, if you don't find me attractive, then just say so." So she
could put her panties on and go home and put an end to her crush once and for
all. "I'll live. Just say, 'I'm not interested, Claire.'"
But he didn't say that. He gave her a smoldering look,
gaze dropping down to her breasts. "Oh, I'm interested. And I find you
more than attractive. You're downright sexy. You're hot as hell."
Oohh. This was working. "And?"
"And I've thought that since the day I met you,
all those years ago, when you were way too young for me to be having such nasty
thoughts about you."
Even better. "I was in college, I wasn't that young.
But that's irrelevant now. The important thing today is that we're both adults.
I am old enough, and ready and
willing to do anything you want to do. Since you're interested."
Damn, she was getting herself excited. Claire squeezed
her legs together tighter and tried to mentally will Justin to move toward her.
"Anything?" he asked in a low voice, looking
like he had a few choice ideas in mind.
She nodded, pushing her breasts out a little farther.
"We really shouldn't…" he said, and she knew
she had him.
"All right," she said. "That's
cool." And reached for the pile of clothes she had put on the toilet seat.
"I'm going to get dressed then, I'm getting cold."
"Wait." He grimaced. Ran his fingers through
his short hair. "Shit."
"Yes?" she asked innocently, turning to look
over her shoulder, well aware he must have an up-close and personal shot of her
butt.
"I don't want you to get dressed." He said
this like he was begrudgingly admitting to wearing a toupee. With reluctance
and shame.
"Justin." Claire suddenly felt like
laughing. "You are making such a huge deal out of this. It's okay, I
promise. We're consenting adults who have a sexual interest in each other.
There's nothing wrong with that."
He just brooded.
"It will be painless. You don't even have to do
anything. You can just lie back and I'll do all the work." She gave him a
saucy smile.
She meant for him to laugh, but he just frowned.
"I don't get it," he said. "I feel so
out of control when I see you. It ticks me off that I want you this much, that
I'm so out of control."
Claire stood back up, thinking that personally she
liked the idea that she made him lose control. "You've just had a lot of
time to want me, that's all. Just like I have with you. That's why I'm doing things
I would have never dreamed I would do—like standing here stark naked having an
entire conversation. But I have an idea."
"What's that?"
"Go back in the other room. We're going to start
this all over." Now that he was reconciled to the idea of sleeping with
her, Claire wanted Justin comfortable, feeling in control, even if it was a
total illusion.
But the key to a successful seduction was
understanding your target. And she had Justin pegged.
Time to let him take the lead.
Chapter Four
Justin should have taken off
when he had the chance. Just gotten the hell out of there when Claire sent him
into the living room to wait while she stayed in the bathroom.
Because she had emerged looking cute and squeaky
clean, her hair in a ponytail, and wearing huge sweatpants and a fleece
sweatshirt. It was almost worse than naked because now she looked like a woman
after sex. Like she could be his girlfriend and this could be their apartment.
Which meant he must have caught senility at the
nursing home, because he had lost his ever lovin' mind.
"Have you eaten dinner?" she asked, acting
like nothing unusual had just transpired at all.
"No." He had been contemplating microwaving
popcorn for dinner when she had burst into the apartment like a living Popsicle.
"You like pasta? I can throw something together.
I'm starving. All I ate was a chocolate truffle when I was shopping."
Justin followed her into the
kitchen, not exactly sure what to say. He could tell her to go home. He could
let her stay.
He could enjoy what she was
offering. Dinner, conversation, sex he was sure would be hot. Was there really
any choice there? The question was better put—How dumb was he? "Pasta
sounds great."
He wasn't that dumb. He didn't need the action—he had
Karen for his physical needs—and Claire wasn't a candidate for the
wife/future-mother-of-his-children he was looking for. Claire was something he
didn't understand, someone he wanted in a way that was illogical, that had
spanned miles and years and some hard living in between.
So it didn't make sense. So it couldn't be anything
more than one night.
What was the harm in enjoying
just that one night?
Down that road of logic lies the dark side, but Justin
was willing to risk it. Claire was right. They were adults. She wanted him, and
it was Christmas. In the spirit of giving, he should do this. Better to give
sex than to receive it.
Geez, he was a sick bastard.
Justin moved up behind Claire as she filled a pot with
water and set it on the stove, turning the burner knob on. He ached to lift
that sweatshirt and taste her skin. To suck her nipples into his mouth and to
wiggle his fingers into her hot flesh. To have what he'd spent six years
wanting.
"It will have to be jarred sauce. Reese and Derek
aren't exactly known for having a stocked pantry." She stretched up to
reach the cabinet and Justin shook his head.
The hell with it.
"You know, Claire?" Justin gave up. He was
going to choke on his lust if he didn't satisfy it. "Let's just hold off
on that pasta for a minute."
"What? Why?" She turned and almost collided
with him, given that he was hovering a half inch behind her. Startled, she fell
backward against the stove and grabbed at her chest. "Jesus, you scared
me."
Now that he had made his decision, he couldn't imagine
why he'd ever resisted. She looked delicious. All pink and warm and glassy-eyed
in the cozy kitchen. Justin cupped both of her cheeks and pulled her mouth to
his.
Oh, yeah. He let his eyes drift closed. This was much
better than the first time, when he'd been half-stupid with shock. Make that
fully stupid.
Now he was all there and all willing to take what he
wanted. He tasted her thoroughly, in and out with long, luxurious kisses. She
had a full bottom lip, and Justin sucked it between his, letting go when she
shuddered.
"Is that all you needed?" she asked on a
shaky breath, her fingers gripping his waist.
"Nope." The sweatshirt she was wearing was
loose and soft, a nice, inexpensive Hanes Her Way kind of shirt. Justin turned
it inside out as he ripped it over her head.
She hadn't bothered to put a bra back on, for which he
was extremely grateful. Leaning back just a little to savor the anticipation of
touching her chest, he dropped her shirt to the floor. "I need to be
inside you. If you've got a problem with that now is your chance to speak up."
Claire fiddled with the button on his jeans, not
trying to undo it, just touching it, brushing, playing with it. "No
problem at all. You know, I'm not the kind of person to pine over a guy, but I
have to admit, in your case I've pined."
Justin cupped her breasts with his hands, enjoying
both the feel of her warm, full flesh and the soft moan of encouragement she
gave.
"I prefer to call it 'occasionally thinking about
with longing.' Same thing, but less
adolescent than pining."
"So you did that? Thought about me with
longing?" she asked, her head lolling back a little as he moved his thumb
over her nipple.
"A number of times." Probably more times
than he was willing to admit. Every time he heard Derek's name or saw him, he
automatically had thought of Claire. Which would always morph into a disturbing
sexual want.
"Mmm, that's sexy, Justin. Now I'm going to stop
talking."
"Good plan." Justin bent over and flicked
his tongue over her tight nipple.
Instead of moaning or begging or gripping his head like
he expected and hoped for, Claire pushed at him. "Bugger! Hold on. Hold
on, hold on."
Justin froze, mouth open, ready to suck her nipple in.
No, no, no,
she did
not just say that. "Why, for God's sake?"
"I have to get a condom. I'm not on the pill or anything."
Claire shoved his head hard and started across the kitchen, topless. "Just
two seconds. Reese and Derek have condoms everywhere—they, like, define sexually
active."
He needed to know these things?
But he had to admit he was grateful for Derek's sex
drive when Claire did, in fact, return two seconds later with a box of condoms,
waving them triumphantly.
Later, when his conscience had returned, he would
ponder the ethics of using Derek's condoms to screw Derek's sister, but right
now he was too busy screwing Derek's sister to worry about it.
Or he would be if she would just stand still. Now
Claire was bent over the stove, still topless of course, turning off the burner
she had set the pan on. Then she was in the refrigerator—what could possibly be
in there that they needed?—clanking around. Finally, she emerged with a bottle
of water and blinked at him.
"What? You're looking at me like I'm a freak."
"What are you doing?" Besides testing every
ounce of willpower and patience he had.
"Getting water. I have a tickle in my throat."
He'd give her a tickle in her throat. When he rammed
his tongue down it.
Justin ripped off his
Claire had a tight body, firm skin over elongated
muscle. She was thin, but with some back. Justin kissed her, his hands clamping
down over that perky backside and grinding.
"Ooohhh," she said when he gave her a split
second for air.
But he didn't leave her a chance to say or do anything
else, before he had his tongue sweeping into her mouth, his desire roaring with
urgency. Every cell in his body was screaming. Must Have. Now. There was
nothing polite or tepid or skilled in his advances as his hands raced all over
Claire, gripping and grabbing and squeezing.
He couldn't get her pants off fast enough. Shoving at
them, he made a happy discovery. "Damn, Claire." She wasn't wearing
any panties.
His hand was skimming over smooth flesh, and he worked
his way around to the front, movements not following any plan of attack other
than gimme,
gimme.
Claire's answer was to kick her sweatpants down to her
ankles and spread her thighs for his hand. Justin couldn't resist that kind of
invitation. He reached to cup her mound and was shocked to find nothing but
soft folds beneath his touch. Unable to form the question, he just glanced up
at her.
She gave a sly shrug. "
"I'm not flipped out." A little startled.
Shocked. Turned-on. Justin didn't normally date women who had anything waxed,
let alone that, and he had to admit he was impressed. Anyone who could handle
that kind of pain was one tough chick. "You're very soft." He teased
his finger between her folds. "And wet."
Definitely wet. Justin slid his finger down deep
inside, enjoying the way she felt, reveling in the jerk she gave.
"Justin," Claire whimpered. She held onto
his shoulders, her knee turning out, body rocking toward his.
He understood the feeling. Popping the snap on his
jeans, he got rid of them in hard, fast movements, and reached for the condoms.
Stroking her clitoris in sensual circles, he slipped down and pressed his thumb
into her hot flesh. Claire squirmed, her breath frantic little pants.
"Scheisse, I'm going to come and I don't want to this soon,"
she said, even as her hips ground against his touch.
Justin let her go, and she stumbled, crying out in
disappointment. "Don't stop!"
"What? I need two hands to put on the
condom." He demonstrated, trying to look innocent, but he couldn't prevent
a grin.
"Tease," she said without much heat, her
eyes trained on his cock as he rolled down the condom. "Need any help?"
"Got it. What does scheisse mean?"
"'Shit.' I have a habit of swearing in other
languages. It's more polite, I think."
He wasn't feeling polite. Justin put a foot on her
sweatpants to hold them in place. They were puddled on the floor, still around
her ankles, and he wanted them off. "Get over by the wall."
"Excuse me?" She stepped out of the pants,
obviously guessing his intentions, but looking dubiously at the kitchen wall,
where a calendar of sailboats was hung on a bulletin board.
"Put your back against the wall," he said
slowly and clearly, giving her a nudge to get her moving. He was done. He had
to have her yesterday, and every second of foreplay was killing him.
Glancing over her shoulder as she turned, she took a
slow step, a smile on her lips. "Bossy, bos—"
He cut her words off by moving up behind her. Traced his
fingers down her arms, lifting them, placing her palms flat against the wall.
Kicked her ankles apart, blood pounding in his head, mouth thick, body hot and
tight. Spread her folds with his right hand, while rubbing his palm over her
clitoris.
"Sorry, but you were taking too damn long."
Justin entered her from behind with one hard thrust, groaning as her vaginal
muscles clamped around his cock.
The velocity forced Claire forward, smacking her into
the wall, and Justin thought he should apologize, ease up, but it felt so
fucking good, and his eyes dropped shut. Just a second to savor, just a second,
then he'd see to her comfort, her pleasure.
Except Claire was frantically reaching back for him,
her hands grabbing at his waist. "Oh, damn it, Justin, move. I'm going to
… I'm coming."
He felt her muscles contract around him at the same
time her shoulders jerked. A high-pitched yell ripped out of her mouth. Instead
of thrusting, he quickly reached around and stroked his thumb over her tight,
swollen clit.
She shuddered her way through an orgasm, hips grinding
back against him, before she went slack, resting her forehead on her arm.
"Oh, crap, sorry."
He wasn't. Justin kissed the back of her neck,
enticingly exposed because of the ponytail. Her skin was dewy, flushed.
"Do not apologize. I'd be a freakin' idiot if I were upset that you came
when I was inside you."
"It was just … so big … so there, all of a sudden
… you got so aggressive, and just…" she sighed. "Yum."
And then some. "Hold onto the wall, baby."
There was nothing capable of stopping him now. He sank
deeper into her, moaning at the tight, hot fit. Her ass bumped up against his
pelvis, and he held onto her thighs, pulling her back further to get them as
close as possible without actual fusion.
The angle strained his calves, but he didn't notice
the burn, just felt the pleasure, the gut-wrenching waves of it that rippled
through him with each stroke. He felt the tightness swelling, the sharp bite of
ecstasy digging deeper, harder. It was safe to say that when he let out a rebel
yell and came, it was with an abandon he hadn't experienced since age sixteen.
Which, as he had tried to explain to Claire, was a
hell of a long time ago.
About an hour or two later, he finally stopped shaking
and groaning and pounding, and collapsed against her and the wall. He knocked
the bulletin board off in the process.
"Jesus," he said as the corkboard crashed to
the vinyl floor with an offensive smack. "Look what you made me do. I'm
wrecking the joint."
"I did?" Claire said, though her
words were muffled, given that he had her face squashed into drywall.
"Yes. You did, Miss We're Both Adults, Let's Fuck Like Animals."
She laughed. "I've figured something out about
you."
Wow, he couldn't wait to hear this. Ten bucks said it
wasn't flattering.
"You blow everything out of proportion. You
exaggerate to the point of hilarity. Good thing I'm the rational one in this
relationship."
The R word. Justin broke out in a sweat and
pulled out of her so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. "We don't have
a relationship, Claire."
He could practically hear her eyeballs rolling back
into her head. "Oh, mon dieu, don't ruin a perfectly good postorgasmic moment by
being an idiot. I wasn't implying anything, so just chill out."
Ouch. Okay, maybe that hadn't been the smartest thing
to say.
She rolled across the wall so she was facing him, hand
out. "Now give me my pants."
"No." It was asinine and ornery, but he
didn't like that their moment of perfect closeness had been ruined by his
stupidity. So he was going to make it worse.
"Fine. I'll cook the pasta naked. See if I
care." She turned the water back on and walked across the room, head in
the air, pausing only to shake out her legs a little like they were sore.
He stood there, condom still on his dick, and debated.
"Claire."
"Hmmm?" she said, face buried in the cabinet.
"I want to get married." When she dropped a
two-pound box of pasta on the floor, he realized what that had sounded like.
"I mean, I want to get married soon, eventually here, not so far in the
future, to a woman who wants to marry me, and is ready to have children, and a
house, and, and, shit like that." Justin rubbed the flat of his palm into
his forehead and winced. "I'm ready for that, and I'm on the lookout for
that woman."
Claire just stared at him. "Well, if I see a
likely candidate for the position of Mrs. Fairbanks I'll let you know."
Now he was at a loss. "Uh…" Hands on his
hips, feeling like a fool, he turned to the stove. "So, what can I do to
help?"
And maybe it was time to put his pants back on. Claire
looked like her storefront sign had switched from OPEN to CLOSED.
Hell.
Chapter Five
Men.
Couldn't live with them, couldn't get away with
killing them.
Claire tossed pasta in the pot and slapped a lid on
harder than was necessary.
Why did guys have to ruin everything by leaping ahead
and throwing up roadblocks when they were miles from that turn in the road?
Justin had taken them from first-time lovers to The End in less than an hour.
The sheer arrogance that she would even want a
relationship with him had her blood boiling like those noodles. Had she asked
for that? She didn't think so.
She was half-tempted to just go home, but one look out
the window had her rethinking that. It was cold out there. And dark. And she
still didn't have any money for a cab, and since Reese was a shoe size smaller
than she was, she would have to wear wet ballet flats with sweats for ten
blocks.
It wasn't in her nature to huff all night anyway. She
was a direct person and liked to resolve problems right from jump.
So while Justin hung the bulletin board back up, she
stirred the red sauce from a jar, and sighed. Relaxed her shoulders.
"Justin?"
"Yeah?" He sounded wary.
As well he should. Dummy.
"You do know that what you said to me about
marriage was rude, don't you? Like, hey, you're good enough to sleep with, but
nothing more."
"I didn't mean it that way. I was just trying to
be honest." He came up behind her, rubbed her forearms slowly, the fleece
underlining of the sweatshirt she was wearing comforting on her skin. She
believed him. Justin wasn't a cruel person at all. Just dense.
"I respect you, Claire, which is why I've spent
six years dodging the urge to do what we did tonight."
There was a compliment in there somewhere. "Don't
go warning me off a relationship before I ever said I wanted one, okay? It's
like telling me your house isn't for sale when all I said was that it was a
lovely home. I can admire something, enjoy it, and that doesn't mean I want to
own it, you know what I'm saying? Ownership requires a lot of time, money,
maintenance. I'm more in a rental phase in my life."
Of course, that was something of a total lie. She was
renting when it came to other men. With Justin, she did want to buy, settle
down for the long haul. If not a whole house, at least a condo, but she didn't want to scare
him. But neither did she want him to make assumptions about her. He was
anticipating that she wanted a relationship and that she was falling for him.
Which she was. Or always had been. But even more so
now that he had looked at her like that, with longing, touched her with
intimacy. She really did feel those silly fluttering feelings. Like given the
chance they could morph into bigger feelings. Forever feelings. But he didn't
need to know that. Yet.
He turned her around so she was facing him. "You
do realize why men like me reach the age of thirty-five without getting
married, don't you?"
It was a mystery to her. He looked especially adorable
right at the moment, his short hair sticking up as much as it could and his
brown eyes soft and serious.
"Because you enjoy your bachelorhood?"
"Because we're stupid."
Claire laughed. "Oh."
"I try to do the right thing, and it's always the
wrong way. I'm great on the job, but in relationships, I'm not so solid. It
takes me awhile to work things around in my head."
"But you're ready for something permanent?
Marriage?" The stove knob was digging into her backside, but Claire didn't
care. She wanted to stand here in this warm kitchen in Justin's arms until she
had a dent in her butt and he had figured out that they could have a
relationship.
"I'm ready to share. I was never ready to share
before—too selfish. Wanted to keep all my time and my toys to myself. But now
I'd rather have someone to come home to than a bunch of electronics, only I
can't seem to put my finger on who the right woman is. I figure one day soon, a
woman is going to just slap me upside the head and announce that we're getting
married, because that's probably what it's going to take for me to recognize
it."
Claire shivered in Justin's arms, a weird sort of
tremor that rippled through her at his words. She wanted to be that woman
Justin shared his life with. It felt like until that moment, all her
relationships had been practice, a training ground for the one that mattered.
The man who had always been in the back of her mind.
Justin should just consider himself slapped.
She was going to be that woman he married.
Justin was
feeling slapped. Stunned. Strange.
Claire had managed to produce a decent dinner, and
they'd eaten and talked. Then they'd gone into the living room and talked.
Watched two movies back-to-back and talked.
It was three in the morning and they were still
snuggled up on the couch, the lights on the Christmas tree blinking in the dark
room.
"That's the tackiest tree," Claire said,
leaning against his chest, feet tucked under her legs. "It looks like
Derek and Reese bought everything from an entire aisle at Wal-Mart and put it
on there."
It was a little over the top, but Justin thought it
suited Derek better than his first wife's sense of style. Dawn had done some
kind of Victorian theme with songbirds and candles on the tree. Justin had been
kind of appalled by it. Reese's slapdash style was more in tune with Derek.
"I like the way the star has chaser lights."
He tilted his head. "Maybe they were going for a garland record. There is
no green left visible at all."
"What does your tree look like?"
"I have a live tree, probably dropping needles on
my floor as we speak. It's got mostly red and gold balls on it, with white
lights. Plain."
"I have a live tree, too, with mostly blue and
silver balls on it. Plain."
Justin wondered if taste in Christmas decorating could
indicate compatibility. He was feeling pretty compatible with Claire at the
moment. He'd had the most relaxing, fun night with her, and he should be tired
but he didn't want the tranquility in the apartment to end. The peaceful, yet
somehow edgy feeling he had. Like everything was good and could stay that way
if he just did the right thing.
Of course, he didn't know what that was. He never did.
Give him insurance fraud to investigate and he was on
it.
A woman and he was clueless.
"Do you like Christmas movies? You know, like the
sentimental classics they show every year?"
"No," Claire said. "It's like visually
consuming sugar. Too sweet for me."
Amen to that. "I'm with you. I always feel
pummeled by moral lessons. I like cartoons better for moral lessons. Got to
love Frosty and Rudolph."
"Oh, my God, I love those shows. And when Frosty
gets locked in and melts in the greenhouse, it's just like the most horrible
thing ever. I used to cry every time."
"I used to wonder why Frosty didn't just throw a
chair at the door and bust himself out. I mean, the whole building was glass."
She laughed. "That was the future federal agent
in you."
Claire used the remote to turn the stereo on. She
surfed until she found Christmas music. Bing Crosby. "I was feeling like
Rudolph earlier, with my bright red nose. I probably scared the crap out of
you."
"Not what I was expecting tonight, that's for
sure." Justin slipped a hand under her shirt and rested it on the warm
skin of her stomach. "But I'm really glad you got nailed by the snowplow,
because I'm having a great time."
"Me, too," she said.
But Justin wanted her to say more. He suddenly
realized he wanted her to suggest they see each other again.
Which meant he was an ass. He couldn't expect Claire to
say anything of the kind after he had delivered his Wife Wanted speech.
It was up to him to take that next step if he wanted
to see her again. Which he did. "So, it's Christmas Eve already. How are
you spending your day? I've got family to see. Babies to kiss. You know, the
usual."
"You kiss babies?" Claire shifted to look up
at him.
"Doesn't everyone?" You saw a big fat baby
cheek, you blew on it. It was human nature.
"No." She shook her head slowly. "No,
they don't."
Claire looked so pretty, so solemn, so sweet, that
Justin leaned down and kissed her. A soft, worshipful kiss that explained his
feelings better than words could, because he was likely to screw the words up.
He had a handle on the kiss thing.
She responded with a sigh, before pulling back and
looking up at him, searching. "Justin?"
He knew the question she was asking in that one word.
Was there any sort of future for them?
Claire was ten years younger than him, at the
beginning of her career, while he was settled into a routine at the FBI, living
two thousand miles away in Texas. But in all his thirty-five years, he'd never
felt this attraction to a woman, and he had to find some way to explore it.
Starting with now, under Claire's sweatshirt.
"I don't leave until two days after Christmas. Think
you can spare some time for me?" he asked, even as he worked her shirt up.
Claire sat up so she was next to him on the couch,
facing his way. Her shirt fell back down much to his disappointment. "I
told you what I want for Christmas is you, so I think I can squeeze you into my
schedule."
The sassy little thing reached out and stroked the
front of his jeans. "You're a great present—much better than an iPod."
Predictably, Justin swelled beneath her touch.
"I'm the gift that keeps on giving."
She gave a sexy, husky laugh. "Oh, I like the
sound of that. We should tie a ribbon on you. Right here." She squeezed
him.
Justin clenched his teeth. "That's not going to
happen."
"You're no fun."
"That's completely untrue. I can be a riot."
Justin flipped Claire onto her back and had her pants down in about three
seconds.
She blinked up at him.
"See? Isn't this fun?"
And he kissed her right on her clitoris, flicking over
her with his tongue.
Chapter Six
Claire had cussed in at least
six languages by the time Justin lifted his mouth from her, his lips shining.
She was half sitting up, every muscle in her body
tense, every nerve firing. Her breath came out like a buffalo snorting when he
left her teetering on the edge yet again, for the third time in as many minutes.
"Having fun yet?"
"I'm going to kill you if you don't finish what
you started."
He took a long leisurely lick up one side, down the
other, while she shuddered. "They'll throw you in jail for that, you know."
Arching her hips up to press her point home, Claire
knew she'd never doubt his tongue talents again. Holy cow, happy crap, mucho
delicious, he had her boneless, brainless.
"You know, if you don't want to put your tongue
back—you know, like if maybe you're tired—you could always put something else
there."
"Like what?" He was licking a path up past
her navel, a tickling wet trail that had her squirming, her inner thighs
feeling betrayed even further. "What could you possibly be talking about?"
He didn't think she'd say it. He was wrong. She had no
qualms about calling a spade a spade. Especially when she wanted it. "You
know. Your big, hot cock."
Justin's eyes went wide with shock. Then he made a
sort of growling sound down in his throat. "Damn, Claire, you weren't
kidding when you said you're not shy. I'll never make that mistake again."
"Am I woman enough for you?" She was
teasing, but at the same time, she wanted to know that he could see her as an
equal, not Derek's kid sister. Reaching down, she felt his thickness with her
hand, stroked up and down.
"Oh, yeah." Justin kissed her, his salty
lips pressing hard on hers. "The only woman I want."
While she was swallowing the sudden grapefruit-size
lump in her throat, he pushed into her with a smooth shift of his body over
hers. Air rushed out of her lungs and her eyes pricked. She stared at him,
shocked. It was love she was feeling, this strange hyperexcitement. This giddy
sense of wonder.
How absolutely freaking ridiculous.
But Justin slowed his strokes down, locked eyes with
her. "Claire…"
"Yes?" she whispered, suddenly afraid.
Nothing had ever mattered to her quite as much as the words Justin was about to
speak.
"I … I think…" He closed his eyes briefly.
Then took a deep breath. "How crazy would it be to say that I care about
you? That I want to … be with you."
"Not crazy at all." Claire grabbed his
shoulders, hauled him down for a searing kiss. "I think maybe when you
have a six-year crush on someone, it's really been more than a crush all along."
Then she clamped her legs around his thighs and shoved
him, hoping to roll him on his back so she could really feel him deep inside
her. Except in her haste, she'd miscalculated. That they were still on the
couch.
For a brief precarious minute, they hovered, before crashing
to the carpet in a heap of naked body parts. Justin's head cracked the floor
because he reached out and held onto her, cushioning her fall. The little
chivalrous cutie. Claire grinned in pure giddiness.
"Oops."
"Yeah, I'll oops you," he grumbled, adjusting
his shoulder. "But somehow we managed to stay together. That's pretty damn
impressive, don't you think?"
It felt pretty damn impressive. Claire wiggled a bit
to gain her balance, than started slow up-and-down movements on him. "Mmm,
yes, I do think it's very impressive."
"Do you think that means something? Could we
qualify for an award or anything? Guinness Book of Sexual Stunts?" He assumed an announcer's
voice. "Even wild tigers couldn't rip them apart."
Claire was laughing so hard she couldn't get her
rhythm right. She felt like she was dancing offbeat.
"What's the matter with you? Got an itch?"
he said in mock bewilderment, eyebrows going up. "You'd better hurry up
and get moving. I'm old. I can't keep it up forever."
That had her laughing even harder. "Stop that. I
can't concentrate when you're making me laugh."
"Told you I was a riot." But before she
could reply, he rolled her on her side and thrust hard up inside her. "You
don't have to do all the work. Just meet me halfway, Claire."
His words were gruff, but she heard their meaning. She
pushed her hips to meet his, a small groan leaving her lips. "I can do
that. I can definitely do that."
They moved together, bodies joined tightly, legs
intertwined, her heart racing and her head resting on the carpet. Justin's
breath mingled with hers, and his eyes drove inside her, taking and claiming.
When he came, she let go and went with him, digging
into his skin, slick with sweat. As she burst, she realized that she had never
thought it could be like this, so elemental, so raw, so real. So right.
"You're beautiful," he said. "Just
beautiful."
And she was suddenly the one who felt slapped. Slapped
with pleasure, and an eager hope.
Chapter Seven
Claire didn't think about answering
or not answering the phone when it rang. She just reached for it automatically.
"Hello?"
"Who is this?" a suspicious woman's voice
cut through the sex-and-sleep induced fog Claire was in.
"It's Claire, Derek's sister," she said,
remembering that she was at her brother's house. In his bed. With Justin.
Taking a peek over her shoulder, she saw Justin was
still sleeping, the sheet up to his waist.
"Claire? What are you doing at my apartment?"
It was Reese, her sister-in-law, and Claire couldn't
help but blurt out in a whisper, "Reese! Oh, my God. I slept with Justin.
And I am totally and completely in love."
"You and Justin? Hey, that's been a long time in
coming, hasn't it? Cool. So did you just come over and jump him or what?"
She knew she could trust Reese to see her side of
things. "I got iced by the snowplow, and I was right around the corner
from your place. Justin being here was a happy surprise. Then I jumped him." Or coaxed
him into doing the jumping.
"Hang on." There was a rustling on the other
end as she covered the phone. "Justin," Reese said, her voice a
little muffled. "So what? Calm down, Knight, she's a grown woman."
Reese uncovered the phone. "Your brother's having a heart attack."
Reese didn't sound too worried about it.
"I owe you guys some condoms. And you have no
food in this apartment. It was a struggle to pull together pasta."
"We're in New York, why does there need to be
food in our apartment in Chicago? And don't worry about the condoms—we don't
need them anymore. It turns out your brother has knocked me up. We're very
happy, but Knight's a little nervous about the whole thing."
"Are you serious? A baby?" The thought made
Claire feel all warm and fuzzy. "That's so awesome! I'm going to be Auntie
Claire."
"Yeah, well, the poor kid isn't exactly getting a
domestic goddess for a mother … hey!"
There was a scuffle on the other end before Derek's
voice came over loud and clear. "What the hell do you think you're doing,
Claire?"
Curbing the urge to stick her tongue out at the phone,
she said, "I'm having sex with Justin. Now let's talk about you.
Congratulations! Reese says you're going to be a daddy. Is she okay? She sounds
kind of tense."
"She's just a little nervous. She grew up without
a maternal influence, you know. But I know she's going to be an incredible
mother. I'm not the least bit worried. I'm ecstatic." His voice softened,
and Claire felt tears pricking her eyes.
"I'm thrilled for you, Derek."
There was a pause during which he cleared his throat,
then said, "Thank you. Now don't change the subject. Put Justin on the
phone."
Claire rolled her eyes. "That's not going to be
helpful."
"Put him on the phone. Now."
This could go on for hours, so Claire decided to just
get it over with. "Fine. Chill."
She turned and found Justin staring at her, still on
his back, but very much awake. Wild-eyed, in fact. Intense.
"Totally and completely in love?" he asked.
Oops. She'd never been all that good at whispering.
Tucking the phone into sheets, she raised her chin. "Yes. I am in love
with you." No point in lying about it after the fact.
Justin had
experienced a woman telling him she loved him before. He'd even thought once or
twice that he returned those feelings.
But nothing, nothing, had prepared him for the intensity
of having Claire speak those words. She was rumpled from sleep, wearing one of
her brother's oversized T-shirts, her expression defiant, like she expected him
to balk.
That wasn't what he wanted to do. What he wanted to do
was take her in his arms and make love to her, slowly and sweetly. Show her how
much it meant to him that she felt love for him. That quite possibly he felt
the same.
But first he had to talk to her brother.
His mouth was gritty, chin stubbly, muscles stiff,
head itchy. He hadn't had enough sleep, and he was about to get bitched out by
Derek. Yet he felt fantastic. Like he could run a 20K without breaking a sweat.
Like he was in love.
"I'm in love with you, too. Now give me the
phone."
Her mouth dropped open, a little "uhh"
coming out. Then she handed him the phone without a word.
He sat up and put the phone to his ear. "Hey,
Derek, congrats on the baby." Justin took the aggressive tack.
"Don't give me that, Fairbanks. I give you a
place to stay and you … take advantage of my sister."
Justin pictured Claire naked in the bathroom, casually
holding her hand out for a towel. Yeah, he'd worked real hard to get her out of
her clothes. Please. "Your sister is an adult, and anything between us is
mutual."
"She's young, and you're too damn old for her."
That had been his very own argument, but it seemed so
irrelevant now. "You know, Claire is the same age Reese was when you met
her. And yet I'm a year younger than you were at the time."
"You're scum, Fairbanks."
But there was no heat in the insult. Justin knew Derek
was a reasonable guy. He'd come around. He was just trying to protect his
sister.
"If you hurt her, I'll kill you. I mean it."
Justin glanced over at Claire, whose cheeks were
flushed pink, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. "Got no plans
to do that, Knight. Now how about you worry about your wife and baby, and I'll
worry about your sister from here on out."
"You're serious about her?"
"Very serious."
"God, where are my antacids?" Derek sighed.
"Alright, I guess I can think of worse guys than you to have around all
the time. Now Reese called because she wanted to know if we got a fax. She's
expecting something for work."
"No fax."
"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Tell Claire I
expect to see her when we get home the day after Christmas."
"I'll let her know."
After he hung up, he told Claire, "Your brother
expects to see you when he gets home."
She rolled her eyes. "It's because he's so much
older than me, you know. And before our mom married my dad, after her divorce
from Derek's dad, he had to be the man around the house, you know? It makes him
overprotective."
"He says he'll kill me if I hurt you."
"He probably means it. But you don't plan on
hurting me, do you?" She leaned closer to him, let her eyes drop to his
lips. "Not if you love me."
"No, I don't plan on hurting you. And about that.
Loving you." Justin snaked his arm around her waist. She was warm, and
smelled good, like vanilla. "What do we do now? Freak out? Have a cow?
Call the media and announce it?"
"We'll do what all people in love do. I'm going
to move to Dallas or you're going to move back to Chicago." She snuggled
up against him and squeezed his biceps. "We're going to spend lots of time
together. Then in a year or two we're going to get married."
"Oh." Justin leaned against the headboard,
pulled her flush up against him. He stroked her back, feeling ridiculously
happy. "Good thing I have you to explain these things to me."
Claire's fingers moved down, down, down, until they
hit pay dirt. She loved Justin's body, all its hard planes and angles.
"Some men need a firm hand guiding them."
He groaned. "I think I'm one of those."
She laughed and pulled back a little. "Thanks for
waiting for me to grow up, Justin. It wasn't right when I was eighteen, but it
is now."
Justin traced his finger over her lips. "You were
meant for me, Claire. Here's to a Merry Christmas."
"And a Happy New Year, of course."
"You change your mind about buying a house?"
His eyebrows went up and down. "Come here, let me show you my for
sale sign."
Claire kissed his finger and laughed. "I think
I'm going to rent-to-own."
And she rolled onto him to prove it.