Ms. Humbug

from “The Night Before Christmas Anthology”

By

Jill Shalvis

Chapter One

Three days before Christmas, City Planner Cami Bennett looked at her reflection in the Town Hall employee bathroom mirror and gave herself the silent pep talk. You can do this. You can do something besides work your tail off. In fact, having fun is just like work, only … better. Probably.

Oh, who was she kidding? She liked the big O's—order and organization.

Orgasms would have been a nice addition to that list, but due to being a little uptight—and, okay, a lot anal—those kinds of O's were few and far between.

Now the big city hall annual Christmas party was later tonight, a masked ball where "fun would be had by all," and she was required to go.

Oh, goodie.

It wasn't that she was the female equivalent of Scrooge, but more that everyone at work always seemed to go on and on about the holiday ad nauseum—decorations, gifts, travel plans. Somehow, they'd all built themselves personal lives as well as careers, something

Cami hadn't managed to do, and Christmastime just emphasized the failure on her part. She hated the pressure of the parties, the expense of buying her family gifts they didn't need or want, and, most especially, the loneliness.

Until now she hadn't had much time to think about it, not with the huge town shake-up that had involved the mayor and his very pretty boyfriend's private sex tapes being stolen and posted on the Internet for perusal by anyone with $29.95. It'd been the biggest scandal Blue Eagle had seen in decades, and no one yet knew how the rest of the town's staff was going to fare when all the cards finished falling.

Especially since the now-ex-mayor's boyfriend had turned out to be two weeks shy of legal age and the son of the DA.

Ouch.

The front page of the Sierra Daily had showed a picture of Tom Roberts, stripped of his mayor's title, being led out of his office in handcuffs.

Talk about airing your dirty laundry in public.

A couple of councilmen had been dragged through the mud as well, one with a paternity scandal and the other with a bank scandal. Both accusations looked false, but were ugly nevertheless.

Morale had never been lower in Blue Eagle.

A soft sound came from one of the bathroom stalls, a sort of … mewl. "Excuse me," Cami said to the closed door. "Are you okay?"

The only answer was a whimper.

Concerned, Cami moved closer. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, God. Yes!"

Cami bent down and looked beneath the stall. She could see a pair of Jimmy Choo black toeless pumps, the ones Cami had drooled over in Nordstrom's but had not bought, choosing instead to pay her mortgage for the month.

Facing the opposite direction of the Choos was a pair of men's black leather dress shoes, equally expensive, and Cami went still. She knew a man who wore shoes like that. Ned Kitridge. He was a city councilman, and her casual date for the past two months.

Embarrassment warred with fury.

Fury won.

Before her eyes, the woman's pumps lifted off the ground and vanished. There was a thunk against the stall door, and a long female sigh of pleasure.

And then the sound of a zipper.

In shock, Cami watched as an empty condom packet hit the floor.

Steaming, horrified, she staggered back. Even the bathroom was seeing more action than she.

And with Ned, Ned, a man who hadn't made a move on her, not once in six dates!

As her ego hit the floor next to the condom wrapper, Cami grabbed her purse and exited the bathroom, nearly blinded by an unhealthy mix of anger and mortification. But could she just slam out of the building? No. She couldn't abandon her compulsive, organized, anal routine. Hating that she couldn't, she meticulously shut off her adding machine and the light over her drawing board, glancing at the new sticky note on her computer.

Cami,

I need to talk to you before the ball. Meet me in the conference room at 7:45.

Ned

Yeah, she just bet he needed to talk to her! Only a few moments ago, she had assumed—hoped—he'd actually pick her up at her place so they could go to the ball together. For eight weeks now, he'd driven her crazy with his need to take things slow. Slower than a snail's-pace slow. Slower than icicles-melting slow. So-slow-she'd-been-losing-interest slow.

And yet in that bathroom, he hadn't seemed to be taking anything slow.

Don't think about it.

The others on her planning team—Adam, Ed, and Lucy, usually all too happy when things were going bad for her—had told her to be patient with Ned because he was a great guy.

Well, Ms. Choos apparently thought so, too. Damn it, even more than tearing Ned apart, she wanted some sexual action.

She wanted the man-induced orgasm.

As she left the building, steam coming out of her ears, she didn't see another soul. This deep into the year, the nights fell early in the Sierras. In pitch blackness, she made her way through the parking lot, the icy air cooling her off. With a few hours before she had to be back for the dreaded Christmas ball, she should hit downtown and knock off the list of gifts she needed in order to make a showing at her parents' house for Christmas dinner.

After all, she hated an undone to-do list.

But she was too shaken from the Ned-screwing-in-the-bathroom scene to stop. Plus, it was snowing lightly, just enough to dust all the windows on her car, hampering her vision. She pulled out her ice scraper from beneath her driver's seat and attacked her windows, but the ice stuck stubbornly. Giving up, she got into her frozen car and cranked the heater, which fogged the windows, adding to the visibility challenge. Things kept getting better and better. Forced to roll down her window to see, she stuck out her head.

But the falling snow blocked her view. So did her own iced-over car. Damn it. She put the car into reverse and slowly eased off the brake—wait.

Had she seen movement back there?

Again she stuck her head out the window, but all she could see was snow flurries. Hell. Luckily, she knew she was the only one in the lot, so with another light touch on the gas, she crept out of the parking space and—

Crunch.

Oh, God! Oh, damn! Jerking her car into park, she leapt out of the car with her heart in her throat and came nose to nose with a man—scratch that. Nose to broad chest. "I'm so sorry!" she said, trying to blink the white flakes from her eyes to see past the man's long dark coat and hood. "I—"

"You weren't looking."

"I couldn't see—"

"I honked."

"I'm sorry—"

"Are you in that much of a hurry to get to the Christmas ball?" he asked.

It suddenly sank through her agitation that she knew that frustrated male voice. Craning her head back, she lifted her gaze past broad shoulders and stared up into a pair of slate-gray eyes filled with annoyance.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Not him. Anyone else on the planet but him.

The him in question pushed back his hood, his dark hair glistening with snowflakes, making him seem even more fiercely intense and devastatingly handsome, if that were possible. Cami imagined even the most hardened of women would sigh over those chiseled features and that rock-hard body.

But not her. Nope, she was entirely unmoved.

Because in addition to the fact that he stood on her last nerve, he was the newly appointed mayor.

Her boss.

Her nemesis, Councilman Matt Tarino. They'd worked together in planning for two years before he'd moved on to councilman six months ago, and in their time together, they'd done nothing but gone head-to-head. He was the bane of her existence.

And now he was mayor. That he was tough as nails and cowed to no one when it came to getting fair share and equal housing for the lower-income population—her pet project—didn't matter. Nor did the fact that he'd been an excellent city planner, an advocate for all that she herself fought for.

Not when he was everything her orderly, organized, rule-loving brain couldn't fathom. He had no patience for precedence, rules, or expectations, and adding insult to injury, he seemed like sin personified, possessing a charismatic presence that conquered worlds, parted seas—and women's legs—with a simple smile.

It drove her crazy.

Logically she knew that these feelings were coming from the little fat kid inside of her, the one guys used to cruelly call Whale-Tail, but she didn't care. He was just far too perfect. Everything about him made her want to gnash her teeth into powder.

And now, Merry Christmas to her, because she'd crunched his front fender and taken out his right headlight, and quite possibly ruined her life and her career—which was her life. Closing her eyes briefly, she opened them again and looked anywhere but into Matt Tarino's frustrated face. That's when her gaze landed on his feet.

Specifically, his black leather dress shoes.

Not Ned in the bathroom with Ms. Fabulous Choos, but … Matt!

And just like that, her humiliation vanished, and so did the ball of nerves lodged in her throat. "It was you," she breathed. "You were the one in the women's bathroom!"

He blinked. Snowflakes fell from his long, dark lashes. "What?"

It made perfect sense. Women were always talking about him, sighing over him, drooling over him… "I heard you two in the stall," she said in disgust, crossing her arms. "Now, I'm sorry I ran into you, but truthfully, you'd distracted me. Get a room next time, sheesh!"

A slow shake of his head. "I can assure you, I don't frequent the women's bathroom."

She didn't believe him, of course, but his denial did mean that she had to take full responsibility for her own stupidity. Damn, she hated that. Sighing, she rubbed her temples. "Okay, fine. You're being discreet. I get it. I'm sorry about your headlight. I'll have it fixed. Just let me get my insurance information—" She turned toward her car, but he took her arm and pulled her back around.

He was always doing that—that being whatever he wanted. In fact, she figured if she looked up "alpha male" in the dictionary, she'd find his picture there.

"You're looking like a Popsicle," he said. "It can wait until tomorrow."

Unexpected decency. That, too, made her self-righteousness difficult to maintain. She wished he'd be an ass about this, but even she had to admit that while Matt defined stubbornness and mule-headedness, he also possessed integrity in spades. She'd seen it in action, when he ran town meetings, maintaining the voice of reason, even if it had a sarcastic edge.

She also knew him to be wild, daring, and a complete rebel at heart. So much so that no woman had ever tamed him.

Cami had never even considered trying, especially since she was too competitive to give him the upper hand, in or out of bed.

After all, he was unlike any man she'd ever been with, or wanted to be with—not that she had much to go on. He was just a little uncivilized, just a little politically incorrect. Not afraid of a battle.

And she so wanted to say not decent.

But he was still holding onto her arm, guiding her off the icy asphalt and into her car.

"Matt?" The female voice came from the pretty blonde sticking her head out of the passenger side of his car. "What's taking so long?"

Cami rolled her eyes and muttered beneath her breath to Matt. "Probably you should have stayed in the women's bathroom."

"Her car wouldn't start. I'm giving her a ride home."

"And don't forget the ride in the bathroom."

"I wasn't in the bath—"

"Whatever." She tried to pull her door shut, but his big body was in the way.

"Are you going to be careful?" he asked.

"Move, or lose a body part."

"Just don't hit reverse until I get out of your way," he said with a smirk, wisely stepping out of her way just as she slammed the door.

Chapter Two

Matt's evening could be going better. He could be at his brother's house nursing a beer and a pizza while watching the Lakers game.

Instead, he had to forgo his favorite evening wear—jeans—for a tux. In less than half an hour, he was going to be standing around, smiling at ridiculous small talk about the weather, eating tiny little hors d'oeuvres of questionable origin that never filled him up, all while being scrutinized by every single guest there, even by people who'd known him for years.

This was because he had a big old bull's-eye on his back, courtesy of getting the mayoral position unelected.

Never mind that there had been a city hall vote that he'd won by a vast majority. Never mind that he'd never done anything but great things for the town of Blue Eagle. Never mind that he was exactly where he wanted to be—for now—when it came to work.

Until he figured out who the hell was messing with the town's reputation, there would be rumors and doubts and questions. Frustrated over that, he left his house. Still snowing, which meant good skiing this weekend. The roads would be icy. Not so good. He got into his car and headed back to Town Hall for the ball. His starched shirt scratched him every time he so much as leaned forward to adjust the radio. His shoes were making his feet unhappy campers.

And a mile from his house, the rest of his headlight fell out. Nice, and yet the irritation faded as he remembered what Cami's face had looked like when she'd realized she'd hit his car.

Frazzled.

The thought made him grin because Cami frazzled was an amusing sight. A sexy one, too. It was her eyes, so brave, so huge and expressive, that made him inexplicably hungry, and not just for melting chocolate.

But more than just her eyes got to him. She had one of those bodies that women complained about and men loved, curvy and lush despite the yoga she did with her team for relaxation—useless in her case because she was incapable of relaxing, he'd discovered.

In fact, it was the office joke—she was so tightly wound, she squeaked when she walked.

Most men would be put off by that, and given her dating record, they had been put off but good. But he had a feeling that beneath all the organization and planning and general analness beat a wildly passionate heart. He saw it when she was lost in a project at work, when she stood in front of the council and argued for that project with all her might. How many times had she made it her personal goal to pit herself against him for any of a million reasons?

And each and every time, the air between them had crackled like lightning.

The truth was, whether she admitted it out loud or not, they'd been dancing around the sexual issue for two years. She was an amazing opponent, sharp and intelligent, ruthless, with a single line of focus that he'd seen in only one other person. Himself.

Beyond that, they were polar opposites, she with her love of order and rules, he with his utter disdain of both. And yet somehow they'd made an incredible pair, and during their two years of mutual city planning, they'd improved the quality of life in Blue Eagle and its growth rate more than any other team in the city's history. It was something to be proud of, and he was.

But he'd moved into the council now, and they no longer worked side by side. In fact, she worked for him, a phenomenon he was quite certain drove her crazy.

And made him grin some more.

He pulled back into the parking lot and looked at Town Hall. The building had been built in 1890 and was, in fact, a historical monument. It had once been an icehouse, a storage unit in the days before refrigeration. Truckloads of ice had been shipped from here to San Francisco on demand. It'd been renovated three times since, and now white lights were strung across the front, anchored by groups of holly and pine branches, backlit by the bulbs. In front, on either side of the walkway, were small Christmas trees, decorated earlier in the week by the local elementary school children.

At the sight, some of Matt's spirit picked back up. So he was in a tux. So he'd have to drink champagne instead of beer. So he was going to miss time with his brother watching the game. Things were pretty darn good for him, and he was thankful. He'd go inside, smile and make merry, and maybe even figure out who was wreaking all the havoc for the town staff members. Not that Matt condoned the ex-mayor's crime of seducing minors, but whoever had exposed Tom, as well as lodged the accusations against the two councilmen, had done so publicly for a reason.

Someone was having a grand old time screwing with the town council.

Turning off his engine, he reached for the required mask. It was black, with an elastic string to go around the back of his head so he wouldn't have to hold it up to his face all night. Putting it on, he stepped out of the car and into the falling snow. Inside, the decorations were overly festive, bordering on gaudy, but that might have been due more to the badly played rendition of "Jingle Bells" coming from the high school band.

The room was already filled with staffers dressed to the hilt in their Christmas finery, all wearing masks, some elaborate, some looking like Tonto.

Mostly guys looking like Tonto.

Matt thought he saw Ed and Adam from his old team in planning. Couldn't miss Ed's carrottop or Adam's double-fisted drink habit. Plus they both waved, so he waved back, and grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

"Matty," murmured a soft feminine voice from behind him. Turning, he came face-to-face with a woman in a tiny, sparkly silver dress and mask. Hannah Pelinski. He'd dated her once and had been put off by her relentless pursuit of a diamond ring. He smiled at her but tried to keep moving, only she started dancing right in front of him, blocking his way.

"Join me," she coaxed, making sure her breast brushed his chest.

"I'm sorry, Hannah. I have to…" Do anything rather than see the desperation in your eyes. "Go upstairs for a sec."

"Well, find me when you come back down."

He smiled rather than lie, and as quickly as he could, moved across the large room, past the elevators, to the stairwell, which was dark. Having worked in this building for so long, he could find his office blindfolded, so he didn't flip on any lights as he made his escape. On the second-floor landing, he turned left.

Halfway down the hall, he heard a soft thud. So he wasn't the only lurker tonight. He caught a flash up ahead, coming from the conference room, where there was a long wall of file cabinets, filled with years and years of information on everything from town council meetings to amendments to the city plan. Matt had no idea what, or if anything, someone would want from those files after hours, but as things had gotten crazy lately, he intended to find out.

He peeked into the dark room, smelling the pine of the small Christmas tree in the corner. The windows let in a glow from the string of lights on the outside eaves. He could make out the outline of a woman, sitting in the window well on the far side of the room. Knees up, her arms around them, she stared out into the night. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, tendrils escaping along her neck. Her shoulders and arms were bared by her dress.

She didn't have on a mask, but even if she had, he'd have known it was Cami by the set of her narrow shoulders, as if they carried the weight of the world on them.

His little snooper had left a few file drawers open, some files sticking up. He was dying to know what had drawn her, what she was looking for, but felt even more curious about what was making her look so … sad.

She didn't look at him as he stepped into the room. "You're late," she said softly.

Was he? He glanced down at his watch. A quarter to eight. No, he wasn't late at all.

Which meant she was talking to someone else. "Oh, Ned," she whispered, and hugged her knees tighter. "I need to talk to you, too." Ned. Ned?

Still looking out the window, Cami stood. "I want to understand something."

Her profile was tight, grim. Unhappy. And suddenly he wanted to see her happy, even lost in laughter. Better yet, lost in passion, with him. He wanted her in his arms, his name on her lips.

"You like me, right?" she whispered.

Apparently more than he'd thought. "Yes."

"Then why don't you ever kiss me?"

Matt blinked. That hadn't been what he'd expected, though, in truth, he didn't know what he had expected. He knew she was talking to Ned, not to him, but he still stepped closer, so close that he could have bent his head and put his mouth to the nape of her neck. Her scent came to him, soft and lovely and incredibly sexy.

So sexy.

Her skin seemed to glow in the pale light. She tended to dress conservatively, and he supposed the cut of her black velvet dress was modest enough, but it molded and hugged her body, dipping both in the front and the back in a clean, sensual line.

"Ned?"

Christ, he wanted her to stop saying some other man's name. He wanted to hear his name.

She sighed then, a lost sound, a sorrowful sound, and unable to take it, he wrapped his fingers around her arm and turned her to face him. Before she could decipher the fact that he had a good four inches on Ned, he hauled her up against him and did as she'd asked. He kissed her.

Chapter Three

Cami sank immediately into the kiss. She couldn't see a thing in the dark room, but she didn't need to. Ned's mouth was firm yet warm, and tasted yummy. Then his tongue touched hers, and a bolt of desire zinged her from her roots to her toes, hitting all the good spots in the middle.

Oh, did he know how to kiss. Thankfully. She'd been worried because not once had he swept her up in his arms like this, against his body, inhaling her as if she was the greatest thing since sliced bread, and she loved it. Loved also the obvious hunger and passion he had bottled up.

For her.

Not to mention the delicious hardness of his chest, his belly, his thighs … in between. God. She hadn't been kissed like this since … she couldn't remember.

It didn't matter, she was being kissed now, and she couldn't believe how amazing it felt. Her bones melted, along with her reservations about Ned being the right one for her, and she ran her hands up his chest, winding her arms around his neck to pull his head even closer to hers.

His hands moved, too, at first grazing up and down her back in a seductive motion that drew her in even closer, molding her body to his. Up and down, further each time, over the skin bared by her dress, until he cupped her bottom. The intimate touch shocked her, and aroused her beyond belief. He squeezed, the thin material of her dress and her new thong the only things separating his hand from her flesh. A brave departure for her, but she'd needed something drastic tonight, had needed to try something different. She'd loved the way she looked when she'd caught her reflection in the mirror. Sophisticated and glamorous—so unlike her usual self.

Now she was glad she'd dared, though his fingers on her, with so little barrier, felt shocking. One hand left her bottom, gliding back up her body to sink into her hair, dislodging a few carefully placed pins as he palmed her head, holding her in place while he decimated her with a kiss so deep and sensually charged, she could only whimper and let him take her where he would.

"Mmm," rumbled from deep in his throat, the hand still on her bottom urging her closer, rocking the softest part of her to the hardest part of him. Oh, God, this felt good, so good. If she let herself think, she might have admitted it was difficult to reconcile this deep, wet, hot, shocking erotic connection with the mild-mannered Ned, the one who was so nice and kind he often let people walk all over him rather than face a disagreement or handle a contradiction.

But she didn't think, because the rough growl that reverberated from deep in his throat made her weak. So did his sure and talented mouth, his steady and knowledgeable hands, both of which were driving her crazy. So did his mouth as it made its way to her jaw to nibble her throat. In fact, she had to clutch at him to remain standing. "You feel good."

In an odd reaction, he went completely still for a beat, then pulled back and stared down at her, the mask covering the upper part of his face but not the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he breathed erratically.

That's when it hit her. Ned wasn't this tall. Or broad. Or built.

Then she caught the glittering of his eyes. Not dark brown, but … steely, stormy gray. Oh, my God.

Not Ned. Not Ned, but— Reaching up, way up, she grabbed his mask. She wasn't tall enough to yank it off over his head, so she pulled it down and stared into those glittering eyes. "You."

"Me," Matt agreed utterly without repentance or apology.

Stepping back in horrified, humiliated shock, she came up against the window just as his mask, caught by its elastic string, slapped him in the chin.

Without a word, he ripped the thing off and stepped toward her.

"Don't," she choked out, her every nerve ending still pulsing with hopeful pleasure. She lifted a hand to hold him off, but he just took her fingers in his and came up against her, trapping her between the window and his body.

The window was icy cold. But not Matt. Nope, his hard body radiated heat and strength as he cupped her jaw until she was looking him right in the eyes. "Well, that took me by surprise," he murmured.

"What are you talking about? You knew exactly who you were kissing!"

Yeah, but I didn't expect to be leveled hat by it. "You expect me to believe that you were laid flat? You, the man who's kissed every single woman in a hundred-mile radius?" God, she was a fool. She'd known better, a small part of her had known from the moment he'd touched his mouth to hers—Ned would never have taken her like that, kissing hard and deep and unapologetically fierce—but her body had surged with such heat and need, and a desire so strong, she was still shaking from it.

And yet, the pathetic truth was, Matt had just been playing with her. It burned, she could admit, and burned deeply. All her life, she'd been the outcast. She'd been a chunky, nonathletic, clumsy kid in a house full of lean, coordinated, beautiful people. She hadn't improved much as a teenager, and though her frenetic exercise and dieting had finally worked, leaving her much fitter now, the stigma had never left her. Inside, she was still the left-out, laughed-at, fat kid, the girl who was the object of a wager among the boys of the varsity basketball team—the winner was to be the first boy who could get a pair of her "granny panties" to hang as a prize in their locker room—the woman who even now men tended to keep their distance from.

The remembered humiliation still burned.

She heard the footsteps coming and turned toward the doorway just as another man appeared, also in a tux. Mask in hand.

Ned.

And in that flash, from a distance of twenty-five feet or more, Cami wondered how she could have ever mistaken the two men. Ned wasn't as tall or built as Matt, instead a comfortable height for looking straight into his eyes, a nonthreatening bulk that brought to mind a scholar rather than a tough boxer or basketball player, as Matt's physique did.

And that wasn't the only difference between them.

There was the fact that the nice, kind, sweet Ned would never have taken advantage of a dark night and a mask, kissing a woman simply because the opportunity presented itself.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, and moved into the room, eyeing Matt inquisitively. "Tarino."

"Kitridge." Matt turned back to Cami. "Enjoy the ball."

Enjoy the ball? She'd enjoy kicking his butt, that's what she'd enjoy, but before she could tell him, he was gone.

When they were alone, Ned smiled curiously at her but, true to form, didn't ask. There was no reason why that should annoy the hell out of her, but it did. Her dress was wrinkled across the front where she'd been mashed against Matt, her hair was half up and half down thanks to his busy fingers, her mouth was still wet from his.

And Ned didn't appear to think anything of it. Frustrated, she grabbed her mask from the window seat and went to move past him, noticing that his tux was wrinkled, too—sort of endearing, really—and that his shoes—

Oh, my God.

His shoes were still black leather, identical to the ones Matt had worn, and still identical to the ones in the bathroom stall from earlier. Lifting her gaze to Ned's face, she was further disconcerted to find him blushing slightly. His usually perfectly groomed hair was standing up on end, and he still wasn't meeting her eyes. "You're late," she said slowly. "But you're never late. You're wrinkled, but you're never wrinkled. You're blushing, your hair is a mess…" She stared into his guilty eyes. "It was you in the bathroom. You've been making out with someone else."

Ned shifted from one foot to the other, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Technically, it's not someone else, if you and I have never made out."

"But…" No, she refused to ask why not her, why it was never her.

"I'm so sorry." His voice was rough with the apology she hadn't gotten from Matt. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Wait." She couldn't think. Funny how her brain could work on an entire city plan, formulating for population and roads and more, and yet now, here, she couldn't process a thought. This wasn't supposed to happen this way. He was the office geek. She was the prize here!

"Cami, Jesus." He squirmed. "I don't know what to say. It's just that you…" He lifted a shoulder. "You scare me."

"What?"

"And Belinda—"

"Belinda. Belinda Roberts?" The daughter of the ex-mayor and a city mail clerk? Who was still in college and giggled when a guy so much as looked at her?

"She's sweet and caring," Ned said defensively.

Which, apparently, Cami was not.

"She makes me cookies," he said. "Oatmeal raisin, because of my cholesterol."

Cami could have done that. Probably. If she'd even known he had cholesterol issues.

And if she'd known how to work her oven.

"She doesn't argue or disagree with me at work," Ned said. "Or make me feel as if my ideas are stupid."

"I don't—" But she did. She couldn't help it. Many of his ideas were stupid. And she had little to no tolerance for stupidity.

"I'm really sorry," he said again, softly, with surprising thoughtfulness. "I really didn't intend for you to find out like this. I wanted to come here and talk to you like adults."

"Right," she said. "Because adult is screwing the file clerk in the women's bathroom."

"Again, very sorry." He looked desperate for a change of subject. "I intended to tell you tonight, but then I found you in here with Matt. What did he want anyway?"

"Uh…" Ms. Pot, meet Mr. Kettle. "Nothing." If nothing meant the hottest, wildest kiss she'd ever experienced.

"Okay, then. Well…" More shuffling, this time accompanied by a longing look at the door. "I hope this isn't going to be awkward."

She just laughed.

Ned's flush lit up the dark. "You look really great tonight. Your dress—"

"You can go now, Ned."

"Thank you." In a cowardly blink he was gone. Men. Cami kicked a file cabinet closed as she left.

It turned out Cami was grateful for the masked part of the ball after all—who'd have thought—because it allowed her to stay virtually "hidden" for the hour she forced herself to stay and smile and make nice. Trying to forget the kiss, she danced with Adam and Ed from her department, and she danced with eager-beaver Russ from the Permit Department, though surely her feet would never recover. She danced with a few others as well, mostly because it meant less talking.

And then she made her escape, leaving the festivities that had been meant to boost everyone's low morale. She drove home reliving the mortifying portion of the evening. In her quiet condo, she decided to grow from the experience. And then she buried herself in the work she'd brought home because, as it turned out, work was all she had.

The next morning, she went into her office early, and to protect herself, she put a sign on her door that said STAY OUT OR DIE.

But apparently the new mayor couldn't read because half an hour later, Matt stuck his head in, wearing one of those wicked smiles that had always annoyed her in the past but that now inexplicably scraped at a spot low in her belly.

"Hey," he said. "Busy?"

Just looking at him reminded her of last night. Of his bone-melting, heart-stopping kiss. Of how he'd held her as if he could do nothing else. How he'd gotten hard and rocked her hips to his. She'd dreamed about that part in particular, damn it, and remembering brought the heat to her face. She shouldn't be picturing the mayor with a hard-on. She especially shouldn't get hard nipples at picturing the mayor with a hard-on. "If I say yes, I'm busy, will you go far, far away?"

His grin spread.

Good God, could the guy be any more gorgeous? Or annoying? Or sexier? Now it wasn't just her nipples going happy, but things were happening between her thighs, too. "Didn't you read the sign?"

"Yes." He pulled a pen out of his pocket. Clicked it on. Eyed her with a mischievous lecherousness.

"Don't even think about it," she warned, gritting her teeth when he underlined the stay out part. Then shut the door—with him on the wrong side.

He smiled.

She did not. But she wanted to, damn him, so she got up, walked around her desk, and reopened the door, silently inviting him to leave.

"Ah," he said. "Someone forgot to eat her Wheaties this morning."

"And someone forgot he was an ass—"

"Still mad, I see." He nodded as if this was perfectly acceptable to him. "How long do you plan on pouting?"

She gaped. "I am not pouting. I never pout."

"Then what's this?" He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, which was indeed thrust out petulantly.

The touch electrified her, and she struggled with her reaction. If his expression went smug, she was going to have to kill him.

But he didn't look smug at all. He looked as shocked as she felt.

In the startled silence, a woman walked by her office. Danielle was a city clerk but looked like a stripper, and when she saw Matt, she stopped and smiled. "Hey there, big guy. Nice dancing with you last night." She made some promises with her bedroom eyes and body language before moving on.

"Big guy?" Cami shook her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Please just go away."

"Yeah." He looked at her for a long moment. "But only because I have three meetings, all scheduled at the same time."

"I'm in two of them with you. Oh, and I hope you ate your Wheaties because at the first one, for the proposed amendments to the town plan? I'm planning on nailing you."

His eyes heated. "Promise?"

She felt her insides quiver at his expression. "Get out."

"Okay, but first I wanted to talk to you about last night."

"No. No way."

"I had some trouble sleeping," he said, all kidding aside. "I was thinking maybe you did, too."

"Slept like a baby." Yeah, if babies had wet dreams.

"You slept like a baby," he repeated.

"You betcha."

He didn't believe her. "Then why are you in such a big hurry to get rid of me?"

"Because I don't like you."

He grinned. "Liar."

"Oh, just get out!" To make sure that he did, she shoved him, then closed the door firmly on his grinning face.

She felt her own reluctant smile and was just glad she'd shut the door before he could see it. The last thing she needed to do was egg him on.

"You still there?" he asked through the door.

"Where else would I be?"

"Just wondering if you've managed to bite back your smile yet."

She threw her pen at the door, then rolled her eyes at his soft laugh.

The next day, the local newspaper broke a story on one of the public officials in the Public Works Department It turned out the official had once been charged with extortion in Florida, a charge no one here had known about.

The article went on to raise the question of whether such a thing could happen right here in Blue Eagle.

The official resigned, leaving everyone in every department unsettled and nervous. Cami's haven—work—had become a nightmare.

In a hastily called meeting, Matt stood before all of them, cool and calm, effectively outlining a plan of attack to face the public and an inner plan of attack to find out what the hell was going on. Afterward, he stayed around talking in his easy way, making everything seem okay, when Cami knew it wasn't.

She had to admire how he handled himself, how he eased everyone's mind with just a few words. Which didn't explain why she didn't feel eased, but … revved. Every time she inadvertently caught his eyes, her body hummed and zipped, like it had when he'd touched her. She was a walking-talking live wire, and any minute now she was going to snap. It was hard to maintain her composure like that, but she was the master of control, so she managed to fake it.

After the meeting, she stood in the break room, waiting for the coffee to brew, ignoring the mistletoe some poor sap had hung over the doorway in hopes of getting lucky. To keep her hands busy, she was compulsively straightening up, putting the filters and mugs in their places, refilling the pitcher of drinking water on the counter. Not that it would all stay that way, but the motions calmed her. Organizing always did.

It was the kiss that was unnerving her, she knew that. Just thinking about it infuriated her because there were so many other things to be obsessing over—the newest scandal, the fact that there were only two shopping days left until Christmas, that she didn't have a boyfriend to shop for…

She poured herself coffee and stood there stirring it wishing things could be different. But Matt had only been playing with her, she knew that. She must have just imagined how good it'd been, how hot—

"I could show you again."

With a gasp, she lifted her head and looked into Matt's amused, aroused eyes.

"Yeah," he told her. "You said it out loud."

Groaning in embarrassment, she brought her hands up to her hot cheeks, but he pulled them away. "Don't," he said in that voice that Cami was certain could coax a nun out of her virginity. "Let me show you that you didn't imagine a thing."

"No. No way."

"Okay, then." His hands slid to her hips, and her body quivered hopefully. "Then how about you prove me wrong?" he murmured, and pulled her close.

Chapter Four

It was sick of him, he knew, but Matt loved the way he could shake Cami's composure. Loved even more the way she shoved her nose so high in the air she became in danger of getting a nosebleed.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said in a frosty voice he was coming to realize meant her control was slipping as well. The interesting thing was she didn't push him away. "I'm not going to kiss you again just to prove there's nothing between us." She added a laugh that didn't fool him any more than her voice had. "We're grown-ups. We're professionals. We're—"

"Hot for each other," he said.

When she only glared at him, he laughed. "You know I'm right. Come on, admit it. You're dying to kiss me again. You're thinking about it. Hell, you're talking to yourself about it—"

"I am not going to dignify that with a response."

Leaning in until their noses nearly touched, he grinned right into her eyes. "I double-dog dare you."

"Please," she said with a sniff. "I don't feel the need to take every single dare that comes my way."

"Then I win by default."

Steam nearly came out of her ears at that, which was fun, too. So was the sparkle of life in her eyes. Never mind that it was an angry sparkle—he liked it. He liked her.

A lot, as he was discovering.

Then, the break room door opened. Adam walked in, took one look at the two of them in such close proximity, and raised a brow as he reached for a mug. "I didn't realize you two guys were knocking it out."

Matt went from amused to pissed, and so did Cami by the looks of her.

"Probably it's why you approved Cami's open-space amendment for North's Landing," Adam said, oblivious. "Too bad I don't have a vagina, or I could get my own agenda passed, too."

Before Matt could say a word past the red haze now blocking his vision, Cami stepped toe-to-toe with Adam, tipping her head back to glare into his eyes. "Watch out," she said very quietly. "Your knuckles are dragging."

Adam snorted as he walked past her and sat at the employee lunch table. "All I'm doing is calling it like it is. Now I know all I have to do is sleep with Matt."

Matt took a step toward him, not exactly sure what he was planning on doing, but his fingers itched to encircle Adam's neck. Cami beat him to it, picking up the pitcher of water on the counter and emptying it into Adam's lap.

Adam yelped and surged to his feet, doing the cold-water-in-the-crotch dance.

Cami shot a glare toward Matt, making him very grateful he hadn't been the one to place the last straw on her back. Then she swept from the room.

Matt leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, watching Adam yell and swear and hop around like an idiot.

"Uptight bitch," Adam griped, sagging back to the chair. "My balls are wet."

"Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever pull anything like that again, insinuating that Cami is anything less than a lady, or that I'd accept bribes, you won't have any balls to worry about."

Later, Matt worked his way through the stacks upon stacks of work on his desk, trying to prioritize the various fires. When he looked up again, he realized the hallway was dark, the place silent.

It was nearly eight o'clock.

So much for getting a couple of ski runs in before dark. The cons of his new job he knew. His time was not going to be his own for the remaining portion of his term. But after that, when he'd made his mark, when he'd done what he wanted to do for the town, he could happily walk away. Sure, he was only thirty-five, but that was the beauty of retiring young—he'd be able to enjoy it.

He and his brother had had it planned since their wild and crazy and completely uncontrolled childhood. There was much about that time that they didn't want to ever revisit, but one thing they agreed on—the freedom had been great. Eventually they would get back to that, using their winter days to ski themselves stupid and the summer days to travel, or whatever suited them, but Matt couldn't get there until he worked out the mess here—

In the utter silence of the building came an odd scraping.

Matt left his office and walked the dark hall, looking for the source of the sound. The receptionist's desk was shaped like a half circle, with a wall of filing cabinets behind it. The computer was dark, as was the little fake Christmas tree with more lights than faux branches that Alice had in the corner. Everything looked completely normal … except that the chair moved slightly, the wheels squeaking against the plastic runner.

Only no one was in the chair.

Matt came around the half circle of the desk and stopped short.

"There's a good explanation for this," Cami said from her perch on the floor beneath the desk.

Matt leaned a hip against the wood and casually crossed his arms. "Really."

"Yeah." Staring up at him, she bit her lower lip, her mind no doubt whirling.

She wore a black-and-white-checked wool skirt and white silk tank top. Earlier she'd had on the matching checked jacket, but it was gone now. Her skirt had risen high on a pale, smooth thigh, her tank snug to her most lovely curves. He'd noticed the outfit earlier in the day because her black heels had been so sexy he hadn't been able to take his eyes off them, or her legs. Or any part of her, for that matter. She was such a delicious contradiction, so tense and uptight about work, and yet there were these little hints of a wildly passionate side.

He wanted to see more of it.

"Would you believe I lost an earring?" she asked, coming up to her knees. She wasn't wearing those sexy heels at the moment.

Was it him, or had her nipples just gotten hard, pressing against the thin material of her tank. "You never lose anything."

"Well, then … I forgot to get my phone messages earlier."

"You purposely forgot to get your phone messages."

"Fine." She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "I came to leave a message for Alice."

"Let's try something new," he suggested, still leaning casually against the desk. "Like the truth."

A sigh fluttered out of her lips. "I'm snooping."

"For?"

"For the same thing you're interested in—finding out which one of us is trying to screw up Blue Eagle's reputation beyond repair, and why."

Pushing away from the desk, he crouched in front of her. On her knees, staring up at him, it struck him how unintentionally erotic her position seemed. "How do I know it's not you?" he asked.

Her eyes were clear and right on his. "The same way I know it's not you."

That surprised him. "I figured I was at the top of your list."

"I know you better than that," she said.

"Really? What do you know about me?"

"That you're incredibly cocky." She sighed. "But you're good at what you do, damn it, so you get away with it. And that's not a compliment," she said, pointing at him. She sighed again. "I suppose it can also be said that you have a code of honor. You don't cheat. It's why you never have just one woman in your life. If you did, you'd have to give up all the others." She lifted a shoulder. "You can be trusted."

Thank you," he said wryly. "I think."

She lifted her shoulder again and then began to crawl past him.

He grabbed her ankle. "For the record," he said when she looked back at him. "It's not that I can't deal with only one woman at a time, but that the right woman hasn't come along."

She snorted and crawled free of the desk, then stood up and walked off.

Matt took the time to enjoy the sight of her nicely rounded ass before following her. He was struck by how petite she was without her shoes. She barely came to his shoulder.

She didn't appear to notice the discrepancy when she stopped, turned, and poked him in the chest. "Who are you looking at?"

"You."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Ever look in the mirror? You're not so bad to look at."

She stared at him, then shook her head. "I don't have time for your lines. I want to be home before midnight." With that, she wheeled away, moving down the dark hall again, her bare feet silent, her hips swinging gently, mesmerizing him with her attitude and utterly accidental sexiness.

"Why do you have to be home before midnight?" he asked.

"I'll turn into a pumpkin. Here." She entered the mail room. "I was thinking maybe someone is reading incoming mail."

"There's only one mail clerk."

"Belinda," she muttered.

"She's young, but awfully sweet. I don't think—"

"If she's so sweet, then why aren't you dating her? Why aren't you doing her inside a women's bathroom stall?"

He eyed her carefully. "You keep mentioning the women's bathroom."

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know what? Never mind."

"No, I think I want to hear this."

She strode over to the mail sorter's desk and the computer there. Someone had forgotten to turn off the radio, and "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" strained lightly over the airwaves. Cami's hair was wild now, from her own fingers, and he loved the way she walked, full of authority and temper, her ass tight and tempting.

"I walked in on her having a fun time in the bathroom," she said, booting up Belinda's computer and chewing on a nail while she waited, silent and stewing.

He also loved watching her sizzle, but this was more, there was sadness, too, and he moved closer. "Fun. You mean sex?"

"I just never thought he had it in him—" Computer booted, she began clicking on the keys, but something in her tone had him taking her arm, pulling her up and around to face him.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, looking at a spot somewhere over his shoulder.

Cupping her jaw, he waited until her eyes met his. And in them he found his answers. "Ned," he said softly. "That asshole."

"Yes, well, you're right about that," she said in a lofty tone that didn't fool him one bit. He remembered the night of the party. She'd thought he was Ned. She'd asked him why he never kissed her.

And now she was doubting herself. "You are far too good for him, Cami."

"Really? Then why does no one else want to date me either? Why do I have to beg men to kiss me? Oh, forget it— Oof—" she said when he tugged her back against his chest.

"I do not want a pity kiss," she choked out, hands flat on his pecs.

"That's good, because you're not getting one." With one hand anchored low on her spine, the other slid into her hair at her nape. Watching her, he lowered his head. "This is the real thing," he murmured.

"Matt…"

"Shh." When their mouths connected, he felt it reverberate through him. Like coming home, he thought.

With a surprised murmur, she pressed even closer, tentatively touching her tongue to his. He lost it. Growling low in his throat, he dug in, losing himself in the feel and taste of her, pulling back only when she put her hands against his chest and pushed.

He stared down at her, and she stared right back, not trying to break free, just breathing like a lunatic and blinking those huge, expressive eyes at him, as if coming awake from a long sleep. "I don't think—"

"Perfect. Don't think." And he took her mouth again, savoring her soft little whimper of pleasure and the way she fisted her hands on his shirt, anchoring him close. He had no idea how long they went at it this time before they had to stop again to breathe. He'd pressed her back against the desk, and had one hand on her sweet ass, the other toying with the strap of her tank top, a muscled thigh shoved between her softer, more giving ones. Her nipples were boring holes into his chest, and he was so hard he couldn't see straight. "God, you look good here."

"In the mail room?"

"In my arms."

"I don't need pretty words, Matt. I'm not the kind of woman a man fusses over."

"Then you've been with the wrong men."

"Agreed."

He looked down into her flushed face. Her lips were full, and still wet from his. Her eyes were luminous, and shining with so much emotion she took his breath. "I could be the right man," he said quietly.

She laughed, then her smile faded when he didn't laugh back. "You're … not kidding."

"No." This wasn't just play, or just a kiss. This wasn't just lust, although he felt plenty of that right this very minute.

It was the real thing.

But she shook her head. She didn't believe him. Hell, he couldn't blame her, given his life and the way he'd lived it—one day and one woman at a time. He wouldn't have believed him either. "I want to be with you," he said, and though it might have sounded rash, it wasn't. It'd been building for a long time. "Exclusively."

"What?" She shook her head, as if certain she'd heard him wrong. "What does that mean?"

"You might have heard of it. It's called dating."

She gave him a long look. "I wasn't under the impression that you understood the word exclusive."

"I understand more than you think." He kissed her just beneath her ear, enjoying the way she clutched at him and shivered. "Watch out, I just might convince you to believe in this. In me."

"Don't hold your breath." Pushing away now, she turned to the computer. Then, after a moment, she glanced back at him, looking uncertain. "What I'm going to do here is a bit of an invasion of privacy. You might want to go home and pretend you never saw me here tonight."

"You're going to look through people's e-mail files. Specifically, the e-mails sent to the newspaper."

"Yes."

"You really think someone is stupid enough not to have deleted the correspondence?"

"I'm banking on it."

He smiled. "E-mail files here at the city offices are public records. So technically, there's no invasion of privacy, because there is no privacy. Scoot over."

She looked surprised. "It might take a while."

"I realize that, Sherlock."

"Don't you have a date or something?"

"Two things, Cami. One, not all men are scum. Two, I just told you I wanted to date you. And only you."

She never took her eyes off him as she absorbed his words, looking so bewildered. And so heartbreakingly unsure, as if no one had ever made her such a promise.

Hell, he'd never made such a promise himself. He should be the terrified one. And there was some of that, but also an inexplicable sense of hope. "Scoot over," he said again, gently.

After a moment's consideration, she made room for him at her side. Just where he wanted to be.

Chapter Five

By two A.M. they'd gotten through half the offices and had found something both shocking and morbidly interesting. There wasn't just one employee e-mailing information to the newspaper, but a spattering of them, none from the same department, and none who had any obvious connections to each other.

Was everyone in this building losing their minds?

They were missing something big here, Cami knew it, and because she did, she refused to give up.

Oddly enough, so did Matt. He'd benefited from what had happened to the town council more than anyone. He'd become mayor because of it. It would be further to his benefit to leave it all alone.

And yet he stayed, brow furrowed in concentration, fingers clicking across the keyboards as fast as her own, concentrating intently on everything they went through.

He was on her side.

They'd been on the same side before, and they'd been on opposite sides. He was a fierce competitor, she knew this.

And also fiercely loyal.

The combination, the dichotomy of him, fascinated her, when she didn't want to be fascinated.

And now he'd said he wanted to date her. Imagine that. She and Matt. The problem was, she couldn't imagine it. So she organized her thoughts like she did everything else and put them out of her way for now, to be obsessed about later. Far later.

Matt suggested they wait until they finished going through all the rest of the computers before making their findings known, which would take at least one more night, possibly two. They went to the employee break room for food, and Matt came up with a package of donuts. "Probably stale, but chocolate is chocolate."

Cami stared at the donuts, mouth watering as she went to war with her old fat self.

Eat them, that old fat self begged.

You might as well just spread them over your hips, sneered her new, thinner self.

"Split them with me?" He was already breaking into them, sending the scent of sugary sweet chocolate wafting across the room.

Her stomach growled. "Um…" Get some control, woman. "No, thanks."

"Sure?" He shoved one in his mouth and moaned unapologetically. His tongue darted out to catch a crumb off his lip. "Nothing like the rush of sugar at two in the morning."

He was smiling, his eyes filled with pleasure. He found pleasure in everything he did, whether it was working, laughing, arguing… She imagined he'd be like that in bed, too. Her belly tightened.

He caught her looking at him and smiled. "Change your mind?"

Had she? He was cocky, edgy, at times arrogant, and then there was the fact that she couldn't outwit him like she could most others. Which in effect meant she couldn't control him, or how she felt about him. Just like she couldn't control the urge for donuts. "Cami?"

"No, I haven't changed my mind. Not about anything."

Without looking too disturbed, he popped another donut into his mouth and brushed the sugar off his hands. "Your loss."

It didn't matter to him either way, she knew that. He'd probably already forgotten he'd said he wanted to date her. Exclusively. Men like him said stuff like that all the time just to get laid.

At least she hadn't fallen into that trap.

"You have a thing against stuff that's good for you?" he asked.

"The stuff you're referring to is bad for me."

"I wasn't talking about the donuts."

"Neither was I."

He laughed softly, and again the sound scraped at a spot low in her belly. "All work and no play…" he began.

"Makes me feel worthwhile."

"Do you ever let up on that self-control?" He looked genuinely curious. "Just to enjoy yourself?"

"I don't like to deviate from a plan."

"Don't I know it," he said with feeling, reminding her of all the times they'd gone head to head over one of her "plans."

"If I'm driving you so crazy, why are you here?" Using words like exclusive?

He stepped close. "Oh, you're most definitely driving me crazy."

"Then why—"

He put a finger to her lips, his touch making her heart race, reminding her how much her body craved him.

"You're also making me feel things I haven't felt in a long time," he said. "I like you, Cami. A lot, I'm finding. Now, about deviating." He cupped her face. "Buckle in, because this is a big step off the planned path for the evening."

"Matt—"

He kissed her. It was another of those soul-deep connections that had her hands lifting of their own accord, anchoring her to him as her fingers dug into the hard muscles of his shoulders. A soft little murmur escaped her, horrifying in its dark neediness, but there it was. Undeniable.

She wanted this more than the donuts, and that was saying something. She held on tightly, purring in pleasure when his hands roamed up and down her back, squeezing her bottom, her hips, up to her breasts. His thumbs made a pass over her nipples, and when he found them hard, he let out a rough sound that rumbled from deep in his throat.

She let out a matching moan when she heard it, and the desperation behind it, and she pushed at him.

He lifted his head, looking hot and bothered and extremely sexy for it.

She staggered back against the refrigerator, feeling drugged. And achy, deliriously so. "That's…" Words failed, so she just fanned the air in front of her hot face.

He wasn't breathing any more steadily than she was. "I see what you mean about planning." His voice was husky and aroused. "If we'd planned that, maybe I wouldn't feel as if I've just been hit by a bus."

"There's no plan in the world that can prepare you for that."

"Which proves that it's okay to wing it once in a while."

"I can't argue with you when my brain is fried." She poured herself a large, cold drink of water. It didn't cool her off. "I need to do something organized right now," she decided.

"Right now?"

"Right now." She opened the drawer by the sink. A mess. Perfect. She began to straighten the forks and spoons and pencils and matches, pulling out a Christmas CD that someone had shoved in and forgotten.

Matt leaned against the counter. "Let me get this straight. You can face the entire town council and argue a point until their eyes cross, but you can't face me?"

She stilled her fingers, hating her weaknesses. "You're right. I should do my own office first." She marched out of the break room and into her office. "Go home," she said when he followed her so closely she couldn't get her door shut without taking off his nose. "Get some sleep."

"I'd rather watch you organize your already perfectly organized office."

Jaw set, she went to her desk, pulling her top drawer open. Damn if every single thing wasn't already in place.

"So you're obsessive-compulsive as well as anal," he said conversationally.

"I organize when I'm nervous or upset. It's no big deal. I'm sure you do something for your nerves, too."

"Sure. Face the problem."

She whipped up her head, met his gaze.

"Talk to me," he said softly.

She looked down at the pencils and pens carefully set in their proper slots. She had one for erasers, too. And her tape. Her stapler. Everything was perfectly aligned.

"Cami."

In spite of his sincerity, she still hesitated. This wasn't an easy admission. "I used to be fat," she finally said. There. She said it out loud for the first time. "All throughout my childhood and school years. I was the fat kid in a fit, active, successful family. They were all perfect, and I wasn't." He wasn't running for the hills yet, so she went on. "Then I left home and went to college, out of the reach of my parents and brother and sister. I lost fifty pounds and got control of myself." She straightened her shoulders. "Being in charge and organized and controlling is who I am, and I realize you might see it as neurotic, but being this way makes me feel good about myself."

"You should feel good about yourself."

She didn't dare look at him or absorb his approval. "Once in awhile I let myself relax, I let myself cheat. So I am warning you now, the next time you offer me donuts, be prepared to lose your fingers."

He didn't laugh or mock her. He didn't even smile. Instead, he stepped closer, lifting her chin with a finger. "We grew up in the same town, remember? I know how you used to be."

"You know I used to be fat?"

Now that finger traced her hairline. "I played basketball with your older brother. You came to the games."

Yes, she remembered. She'd stand at the concession stand and eat.

And eat.

"I don't care what you used to look like," he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Come on, Matt. Look at you. Your reflection probably sighs in bliss every morning. You're telling me appearances don't matter to you?"

"I'm telling you life experiences matter. Listen, my brother and I grew up with a teenaged mom who didn't know the first thing about being on her own, much less about raising two boys. We had no rules, no authority. Hell, we had no roof over our heads half the time. I worked damn hard to be who I am now, and I want someone who understands that, who has her own experiences to draw on. I want a woman who can talk to me, who can understand my world, who can be both serious and fun-loving. And if she just happens to be easy on the eyes, and believe me, you are extremely easy on the eyes, Cami, well then … lucky me."

She stared at him for signs of deception and saw nothing but open honesty in his gaze. "I don't know what to say to you. I think I should go home now." She turned off the lights.

Her office settled into darkness, but it wasn't complete. From the windows came the glow of the seasonal lights, twinkling merrily, casting shadows across the desk and floor.

Matt put his hands on her. She didn't protest as he drew her in. The soft night fell over them—hypnotic, lulling, sweetly silent—and when he touched his mouth to hers, she settled into the soft, gentle kiss.

"Night," he whispered, and stepping back, he slipped his hands into his pockets, leaving her wanting more, damn him.

The man was smart, she'd give him that, knowing when to push and when not to. If he'd kissed her senseless and then asked her to go home with him, would she have gone?

Of course not.

Oh, crap. She'd have gone in a heartbeat, and not because he kissed like heaven, but because he'd seen her at her compulsively organizing worst and hadn't gone running. Grabbing her purse, she made the mistake of turning back to him.

There was passion and heat swimming in his eyes, and something more—affection.

Oh, God, but that got her. How often did a man look at her like that? Never. How often did she feel this way, sort of quivery and … desperately horny?

Double never.

Maybe … maybe she needed a New Year's resolution—live life to its fullest, even if that means occasionally deviating off the known path. She could mark the deviating on her calendar for, say, once a month.

Starting now. She dropped her purse on her desk. "Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you carry condoms?"

He blinked. "What?"

"I assume a man like you carries." She put her hands on his shoulders. "I've never made the first move before—"

"Cami—"

"Not because I'm a prude or anything, but because there's never been anyone I wanted badly enough to risk the rejection."

His eyes went dark, so very dark, as his hands came up to her waist. "I want to be clear, very clear," he said. "This is you coming onto me, right?"

"Yes." She swallowed hard. "It's a New Year's resolution sort of thing, a week early. Be kind, okay?"

"Cami, I plan on being everything you ever wanted." He lifted her against him and set her on the desk.

"Here?" she asked breathlessly, her heart in her throat, her body on high alert, beginning with her nipples and ending with a dampness between her thighs.

"Oh, yeah, here." His big, warm hands settled on her thighs, pushing them open, and before she could decide how she felt about that, he stepped between them.

"Wait," she gasped.

He went still. "Really?"

Do it. Do him. "It's okay. It's a good kind of wait." Twisting around, she swept an arm across her meticulously neat desk, knocking everything to the floor in one fell swoop—her phone, her desk pad, her notes.

"Nicely done," he said approvingly.

She stared at the mess on the floor, chewing on her lower lip. The urge to pick it all back up nearly overpowered her.

Matt's mouth was solemn, but his eyes full of humor. "You want to take a moment and clean it up?"

That he'd read her mind so easily was a little disconcerting. "No, I'm … good."

He tipped up her chin, away from the mess. "Sure?"

"I want to be in the moment, damn it! Just once!"

"In the moment is just where I want you." His other hand slid down her spine to her bottom, tugging her closer.

Pressed up flush against him, she could feel every inch of him. He was hard, and it made her heart beat faster, heavier.

"Yeah, right here," he said softly, his mouth only a fraction of an inch from hers. "Just tell me if you need to stop to obsess about anything."

"No, I'm fine." Sort of. Pretty much. Oh, my God, he was big.

His smile was slow and warm and sexy. "Yeah, you're fine." And this time when he kissed her, she sank her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, thrilling to his firm, quietly demanding mouth, which stirred instincts long suppressed. Living life to the fullest. In the moment. God, in the moment tasted good. But there were too many barriers between them—his clothes, hers… Impatient, she pulled his shirt from his waistband, sliding her hands beneath to touch his heated skin, stroking up his smooth, sleek back, loving the feel of his muscles, bunched and tight. Letting out a little sigh of pleasure, she shifted to touch his flat abs, feeling him tremble. For her.

He knew her now, or he was starting to. He knew the real her, and he was still here, still wanting her. She could feel that wanting in his kiss, in the way he touched her, and the knowledge was so incredibly empowering and arousing, she gave herself up to it. To him.

She wasn't alone, not tonight, and marveling over that, too, she touched his mouth, feeling him smile beneath her fingers, his tense jaw, the muscles bunched beneath the wall of his chest. "I'm still fine," she marveled, giving him a breathless update.

He smiled and nibbled his way to her ear. She shivered, which he soothed away with his hands as he lifted her tank top. Looking into her eyes, he peeled the material over her head. Oh, God. Her inner fat girl surfaced for a brief flash.

He danced his hands from waist to ribs, palming her breasts. "Okay?" he murmured, his thumbs rasping over her nipples.

"O-okay," she managed. Don't think about him seeing your body, don't think about it, just enjoy.

"You're so beautiful," he said, banishing her inner fat girl for another day.

Somehow she stripped off his shirt as well, looking at him in the low light. The man had a body like a pagan god, and she wanted to touch it.

Before she could, he dipped his head, forging a path of hot, open-mouth kisses down her shoulder as he unhooked her bra, baring her breasts.

The heat within her spread. Fat girl stayed banished.

"Still okay?" he wanted to know as he bent to a breast. Licked. Sucked. Bit.

She panted for breath. "Yes."

"Good." His hands curled around the hem of her skirt, skimming it up her thighs. Then his fingers hooked into her panties.

She stared into his hungry eyes. "Um…"

"Tell me you're still hanging in," he said, his voice not so light now.

"Y-yes. Hanging in."

"Good. Now hold on." He stepped back, tugged, and her panties vanished. Cold air danced over her legs, but then he was back between her thighs. With his usual bluntness, he looked down at her sprawled out for him like some sort of feast, letting out a hungry sound she felt all the way to her womb.

Torn between the erotic sexual haze he'd trapped her in and a vulnerable embarrassment, she squeezed her eyes shut. Not as experienced as she'd have liked, she didn't know the protocol here, or what to do with her hands. He'd told her to hold on, so she gripped the edge of the desk for all she was worth, struggling to remain calm. Should she say something? Tell him she didn't often climax with a man because it was hard for her to give up her control? Or should she just smile sexily and fake it?

Or do what she was already doing, which was panting for air because she could hardly breathe.

He took the decision out of her hands when he sank to his knees and stroked his fingers over her.

Her body jerked in surprise, in pleasure.

"Shh," he murmured, and with another rough sound of hunger, leaned in and tasted her.

Reality had no chance then, no chance at all. At the first stroke of his tongue, she became incapable of smiling sexily, or even of blushing, incapable of doing anything except holding onto that desk and gasping for air between little whimpers of pleasure. Oh, God, this felt good, this felt amazing. She could actually— She was going to— "Matt!"

"I know. It's okay. Come for me, Cami."

When she did come—exploded—with a shocked, breathless cry, he murmured his approval and did it again.

Did her again.

"Oh, my God," she panted when she could speak. She was flat on her back, blinking at the bright stars dancing in her vision. "I think I've walked into the light."

His face appeared above her as he braced a hand on either side of her head. He wore a grin, albeit a tense one. "Those are the Christmas lights outside the window."

"Oh." She smiled sheepishly. "That was … holy cow. You have no idea."

"Been a while?"

"You have no idea. There's more, right?"

"Oh, yeah, there's more." He unzipped his pants, put on a condom from his wallet, a task most pleasurable to watch, Cami thought dimly, her brain not quite connected, her body still pulsing.

"Still with me?" he asked.

"So with you.'"

"Good." Draping her thighs over his forearms, Matt gripped her hips and slid home, filling her to bursting, a feeling intensified by the low, serrated sound of desire that ripped from deep in his throat.

She could feel her toes curl as he breathed her name in a husky, destroyed voice. "Cami."

She couldn't respond, because within a few strokes she was clutching at him, panting, whimpering. Dying. Between the delicious friction and the expression of need on his face alone, she flew high, trembling, quivering, suspended on the very edge, until with a rough, guttural groan, he shattered. He was still in its throes when she took the leap with him.

Again.

Chapter Six

Cami told herself that she was fine, that she'd escaped from the experience in her office with Matt relatively unscathed. She told herself that all the way home, and all the way through her hot shower, and all the way through the next three hours in her bed, until her alarm went off at six A.M.

Just a torrid affair, like she'd always wondered about.

The after part had been a little rough, she could admit now—the coming-home-alone part. Matt had wanted her to go to his place, but she'd been unable to fathom repeating the whole mind-blowing experience and then walking away.

Once had been hard enough.

When her snooze alarm went off again, she got up and dressed. Christmas Eve. Most people wouldn't be going into work, but she was going to. Dedication at its finest, she supposed.

And a telling way to hold at bay the memories from last night. Or the loneliness she knew would hit her any minute now. The Christmas loneliness. She could try to forget, she could try to pretend it didn't exist, but it always came.

She entered her office and stopped short at the sight of her desk. The scene of her indiscretion, so to speak. Her momentary lapse in good judgment. Last night, she'd straightened it all up, she'd had to, but she didn't need to see all her things on the floor to remember what Matt had done to her there.

Pulling out her chair, she sat down and tried not to look at the blotter, which now contained an imprint of her butt. She dug into work, feeling very mature for doing so, but by mid-afternoon, she gave up. She had to get out, or lose her mind, so she headed downtown, where she wandered the long row of art galleries and unique gift shops to find her last-minute family Christmas gifts. Determined to be chipper and in the spirit, she hit them all.

And found nothing for her picky parents or impossible-to-buy-for brother and sister.

All around her, the trees and streets were lit with seasonal lights. Each storefront had been decorated, and Christmas music and delicious scents surrounded her. So did people. Everywhere. Couples, families, friends … everyone talking and laughing and having a ball, all in the holiday spirit.

No one seemed to be alone.

Except her.

She ended up back at her car, arms empty. Damn it. Determined, she sat there waiting for the defroster to work, wracking her brain. Finally it came to her. Ski-lift tickets. Her parents would love the excuse to dust off their skis, and her siblings would think the present original and cool. Cami let out her first smile of the day, because she just might have hit upon the perfect gift and the perfect way to impress her impossible-to-impress family on Christmas morning.

Congratulating herself, she drove the seven miles out of town to Eagle Ski Resort. There she purchased the tickets, and had just put them in her purse when someone said in her ear, "Well, look at that. You tore yourself from work."

The last time she'd heard that voice, he'd been standing between her sprawled thighs whispering wicked-sexy-nothings to her. Turning, she faced one Matt Tarino, dressed in black board pants and jacket, wearing a Santa hat and aviator reflector sunglasses, and holding his snowboard. He should have looked ridiculous. Instead, he looked fun-loving and carefree, not to mention incredibly sure of himself, and sexy as hell for it. Belatedly, she remembered his brother owned this place, so of course he'd be here. Or, maybe not so belatedly. Maybe she'd known—hoped—to see him. Disconcerting thought. As she stood there staring at him, wondering at the odd ping in her belly—and between her thighs—two women skied by and sprayed Matt with powder from their skis, laughing uproariously, flirting with their smiles and eyes.

Cami dusted herself off, surreptiously watching Matt as he waved back, turning down their offer to join them. Instead, he moved closer to Cami and brushed some powdery snow from her cheek. "So. What brings you here?"

Now that they'd had raw, wild, animal sex on her desk, he made her feel even more off balance than usual, and she was painfully hyperaware of his every move. Even her nipples were hard. It was ridiculous, and to counteract the phenomenon, she stopped looking at him. "I came by to purchase some lift tickets for my family for their Christmas gifts."

"Nice gifts."

Let's hope they think so.

"Enjoying your Christmas Eve?"

"Sure." Less than she would a cruise to the Bahamas, but more than, say, a root canal.

Matt shoved up his sunglasses to the front of his Santa hat. "You're looking pretty uptight for someone who's enjoying herself. Come join me for a few runs before the slopes close."

She looked down at her long maroon skirt and sweater. "I couldn't."

"What's your preference, skis or board?"

"Skis, but I'd planned on going back to the office to finish going through those computers—"

"I'll help you after."

"But I don't—"

He tugged her close. She stared resolutely at his chest.

"Was last night so awful, you can't even look me in the eyes?" he asked quietly.

Surprised, she lifted her head. "No. No," she said again into his rueful and, damn it, hurt gaze. "It was … well, you know what it was. It was incredible."

His eyes smoldered. "So let me show you another good time. On the slopes."

She looked at him for a long moment, because she knew herself. She was falling, and falling for a man—especially him, the one man to make her feel things, the one man to get inside her and care about her—was dangerous. It gave him all the power he needed to hurt her. Scary, scary stuff.

On the other hand, it was only a few runs on a ski hill, something that was shockingly tempting… "Maybe for a little while."

With a smile that melted her resolve and very nearly her precious control, he led her inside the small lodge. "My brother runs the show here," he said, waving at yet another group of women who called his name from across the large room. "I just help out when I can. We'll get you all set up."

The next thing she knew, he had her in borrowed gear and on skis from the demo shop. And then out on the slopes.

Having a ball.

Truthfully, much of her fun came from just watching Matt. The man was sheer poetry in motion, all clean lines and easy aggression, with a wild abandon that aroused her just looking at him. Who'd have thought such a sharp-witted, politically driven man could move like that?

After last night, she should have known.

She wondered what he thought of last night, but they didn't talk about it. They just took the slopes with an easy camaraderie and laughter and … fun, and by the time the lifts closed two hours later, she felt chilled to the bone but exhilarated. For a few hours, she'd been like the people she'd seen in town, not alone … happy.

"Thanks," she said when she'd turned her equipment back in and he'd put his board in his locker. "I really needed that."

Standing in the lodge, he stroked a strand of hair off her face and smiled. "You're cold. I have a cure for that, too."

"I think you've cured me enough."

"Come on, Cami. What's the worst that could happen?"

That he would offer to warm her up, maybe in his bed, and she might be just weak enough to let him. And then she might not want to ever leave.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

She stared into his eyes. She'd seen them stormy and furious; she'd seen them soft and heated. They were somewhere in between now, filled with an honesty and affection that took her breath. Did she trust him? She knew she didn't want to. "I wouldn't follow you off a cliff, but at work … maybe I trust you there."

He laughed. "A start, I suppose. What about personally? Do you trust me outside of work?"

Back to that jumping-off-a-cliff thing. "That's more complicated."

"Ah." He nodded agreeably, then shook his head. "Why, exactly?"

"Well … you like women."

"I believe that's worked to your benefit."

She blushed. "You like lots of women."

"Yeah." His smile faded. "I suppose that's the rumor mill you're referring to. You know, a lot of that is exaggerated."

"How much of it?"

"What?"

"What percentage of all the women I've seen drooling over you is exaggerated?"

He paused. Considered carefully. Rein his tongue over his teeth.

"Thought so." She searched her purse for her keys.

He reached for her hands to still them. "Should I judge you for your past?"

"No, but I haven't slept with every single man in the free world."

"Neither have I," he said, and tried a grin. When she didn't return it, he sighed. Rubbed his jaw. "Okay, listen. I've had a good time with life so far. I'll admit that much. But I'm not afraid of commitment. Can you say the same?"

"Yes." Maybe.

Probably.

Fine. Commitment made her nervous, a fact that was undoubtedly tied to her need to control every little issue. But she'd like to think she wouldn't let that stand in the way of a real relationship.

"I really don't see the problem here," he said softly.

He wouldn't. "We're so fundamentally different."

"You mean you being uptight, anal, and overly organized?"

She crossed her arms. "I would think people would love that about me."

"Maybe I'll love you in spite of it."

She went utterly still. "What?"

"Not here," he decided. "We're not doing this here. Come on."

He led her back through the lodge, across the icy parking lot, to the far side of the property where a couple of cabins faced the mountain vista. There was a driveway between them, and in it sat a truck and Matt's Blazer.

"My brother's," he said, pointing to one cabin. "And mine," he added, pointing to the other, opening the door, revealing a small but lovely living room accented all in wood. One wall was all windows, overlooking a white-capped peak, and another was filled with a stone fireplace. He had a Christmas tree in the corner, tall and beautifully simple, with white lights and red bows, but somehow it held more holiday spirit than anything she'd seen.

His couch looked like an old favorite, overstuffed and well used. A football lay on the floor, along with a pair of battered running shoes, a stack of newspapers toppled over, and a very neglected fern. Leaning against the far wall were several pairs of skis, two snowboards, and two pairs of boots. Warm and homey but definitely lived-in. Her fingers still itched to at least straighten the newspapers. Or jump Matt.

"I'll start a fire," he said, putting an arm around her and pulling her in close to his big, warm body. "Come get comfortable."

She couldn't. Shouldn't.

"I promise not to bite." He rubbed his jaw to hers. "Unless you want me to."

"You've lost your mind." But she looked into his eyes and melted a little.

A lot.

It was official. He hadn't lost his mind—she'd lost hers.

Chapter Seven

"I shouldn't come in," Cami said in a last-ditch effort to save herself. "You don't want casual company tonight. It's Christmas Eve." She stood in his foyer, uncertain, and desperately trying to hide it from him. "I'm sure you have better things to do."

He just looked at her with amusement and something more, seeming tall and sure and so damn sexy. "Tomorrow my brother and I are going to watch college football and exchange fond insults, but until then, I'm all yours."

Until then? She swallowed hard. She was attracted to him, so so so attracted, but deep inside she knew she might not be able to control that attraction if she let him touch her again.

"You're thinking waaaaay too hard," he said lightly, taking her hand as if to make sure she couldn't run off.

"Bad habit, thinking too hard."

She took a deep breath and stepped into the living room. "I still want to go back to work and search the rest of the computers…"

"I know." He moved to the fireplace and lit the already laid-out fire. "Come closer to the heat."

She did so slowly, hugging herself tightly, throwing him a smile that she hoped seemed confident, not shaky.

He went into the kitchen. She heard him moving around, and her heart went into her throat. He was planning her seduction. Probably lighting candles, finding music, hunting up condoms.

Her thighs tightened.

Bad body. No more sex. She'd had her fling. She'd had her fun. Time to hunker down now—

He came back into the living room with cheese and salami and cut-up apples on a plate. She stared first at the food, and then at his face. "You're … feeding me?"

"It's dinnertime. I figured if I took the time to make something, you'd vanish on me. But we're going to need fuel if we're going back to the offices—"

"It's just that I—" She cleared her throat. "I thought you were going to try to seduce me."

"Oh, I plan to," he said easily. "Just not until after we work, or you won't relax. And I want you relaxed, Cami. Really relaxed."

She stared at him. "You actually understand me. I mean really understand me."

"I'm trying."

"Matt?"

"Yeah?"

The hell with it. She tugged him close and kissed him.

"Mmm," he said in surprised pleasure, but after a minute, he pulled back and pushed the food in front of her. "Eat. Then the office. And then, Cami, then this. I'm going to take you to bed. Mine."

His. God. How bad off was she that she thrilled to that idea?

The offices were dark and chilled, but Cami turned determinedly toward the department they hadn't yet gone through—her own.

The first three computers were clean, including hers. One office left. She stood in the doorway and looked at Ned's desk.

"We're committing equal opportunity privacy invasion," Matt said quietly. "We have to look."

"Despite the Belinda fiasco, he wouldn't hurt anyone, not this way."

"Let's just be absolutely positive."

"Okay."

To Cami's utter shock, they found several e-mails addressed to the newspaper, in Ned's sent file, one of which suggested the fire chief of Blue Eagle might be an arsonist. "Oh, my God," she whispered, looking up into Matt's grim face. "It's him, too." She couldn't believe it, didn't know what to think.

"You all right?"

It just made no sense. But she was all right. What Ned did didn't reflect on her, didn't mean anything except that Ned was an ass. She was okay. She was really okay, and it'd all started with that New Year's resolution to go for it, to deviate from the plan once in a while. To live life to its fullest…

And Matt was it. He was her "go for it," her "step off the path."

He was the way to live life to its fullest. And not just a one-time deal. "Matt?"

At her soft, extremely serious tone, he stroked a strand of hair from her face. "What is it?"

"Maybe you should sit down," she said a little shakily. "This is going to be a doozy—"

The office door creaked open behind them, and someone stopped in surprise at the sight of them.

"Hey," Matt said, but the figure standing there whirled to run.

"Shit." Matt surged up, just barely snagging the person by the back of the jacket.

Cami leaped for the light switch, then gasped in shock when the fluorescent bulbs sputtered to life and she found a gun in her face.

"Belinda," Cami gasped.

Belinda tore free of Matt's grip. Tall and willowy, with her long blonde hair piled on top of her head, she was wearing black, studious-looking glasses and a tight red suit, none of which hid her beach-babe figure. "You two scared me to death," she said. "What are you doing in here?"

"How about we talk about the gun first?" Matt asked, gesturing carefully to the weapon still in Belinda's hand.

Belinda looked at it, flushed, but didn't lower it. "You scared me. I thought you were a burglar. I was just protecting myself."

"Well, it's just us," Matt said. "So you can put it down."

The gun wavered slightly, but remained cocked and aimed, now at Matt's face. "Why are you snooping in Ned's computer?"

Matt didn't so much as look at Cami as he slowly turned toward the computer in question. Belinda's aim followed.

"We were looking through everyone's e-mail files," Matt said.

Belinda didn't look happy as she followed him to the computer. "Why?"

"We were looking for the person leaking those vicious rumors."

"They aren't rumors if they're true," Belinda said, leaning in to read the screen. "And it was all true, no matter what anyone says."

"Really?" Matt's fingers flew over the keyboard as he turned his body completely away from Cami now.

So did Belinda.

He was turning Belinda away from Cami. Trying to keep her safe. Oh, my God.

"How do you know it was all true?" Matt asked Belinda.

Belinda stared at him.

He stared right back, calm and cool, despite the gun only inches from his face.

"You already know," Belinda guessed softly. "Don't you."

"What, that you were the one who did the e-mailing from all those different computers?" Matt nodded. "Yeah. Just figured that out. So now what, Belinda? Because up until right now, you haven't committed a crime that would land you some serious jail time. The gun changes that."

Belinda looked at the gun.

"Don't be stupid," Matt said softly.

Cami felt frantic. The foolish man was baiting her! Heart in her throat, she took a step toward the wall, where Ned had plans of his latest pet project, a bike trail along the river. They were rolled up in a canister and weighed a good ten pounds. Hoisting them up, she took a slow step toward Belinda's back.

"What were you trying to do?" Matt asked Belinda. "You got your own father kicked out of here."

"He deserved it! He was cheating on my mom. With a guy." Belinda shuddered. "And everyone here acted so self-righteous about it."

"So you hurt them, too?"

"Yes! And maybe you were next."

Matt shook his head. "You couldn't have gotten me, Belinda."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm smarter than you are."

Cami couldn't believe it! Didn't he see the gun right in his face? She could scarcely breathe for fear it'd go off by accident.

Belinda's hand wavered, probably with rage. Jesus. Cami took another step and raised the tube of plans. Matt looked up, and so did Belinda, at the same time lifting the gun, just as Cami closed her eyes and brought the plans down on Belinda's forearm, hard.

The gun flew into the air, then hit the floor, and with a frustrated, rage-filled howl, Belinda whipped around to face Cami.

"I figure I just saved you a long prison visit," Cami said. "You can thank me later."

Belinda let out an enraged scream and took a step toward her, but instead of strangling her, as Cami half-braced for, Belinda ran out of the office.

Matt strode to Cami and hauled her against him. Tense with fear and fury, he ran his searing eyes over her. "Are you all right?"

He was looking at her as if she was his entire world. She loved that. She loved him. "Of course I'm all right. You were the one with the gun in your face, you stupid, stupid man!" She tugged his face down and kissed him. "Hell of a time to realize I love you. We have to go after her."

He gripped her arms, lifted her up to her toes. "What?"

"I said we have to go after her—"

"The other thing."

"Later." She was shaking. "We have to—"

"Say it," he demanded.

"I love you."

He leaned in and kissed her, one hard, warm connection. "I love you, too. So damn much."

The words filled her, warmed her. She was in shock. And she was in love. Heady combination.

"I wanted to be your hero," he said. "But you saved yourself."

She ran her hands up his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath her fingers. It steadied her. He steadied her. "It's okay. It's all part of that New Year's resolution. I'm going for it, remember? At all times."

"But you always go for it."

"At work, yes. But I'm expanding to other areas. Like my personal life."

His eyes shined with emotion. "You going for me, Cami?"

"Yeah, I guess I am. How does that feel, Mr. Mayor?"

He glanced at his watch. Two minutes past midnight. "Like the best Christmas present I've ever had." And he pulled her close.