Kissing Under the Mistletoe (27 page)

“You. Inside me,” she whispered, reaching around with both hands and digging her nails into his ass. “Right now.”

“Best idea you’ve ever had.” He tightened his grip on her hips and, in one fluid motion, Regan found herself turned around and seated on an oak barrel, Gabe nudging his way between her thighs.

He tore open the condom packet that appeared out of nowhere, which meant she was getting an A+ in the “no thinking” department. He slid it on and Regan attempted to help.
Attempted
being the operative word, since she spent most of her time teasing and kissing. But he gave her a resounding A+ in that department too. He also gave her a kiss that almost knocked her right off the barrel.

He slid her forward, placed her feet on the edge of the barrel beneath, and in one smooth, gentle slide, seated himself fully inside of her. Shocked at how perfect he felt inside of her, Regan let out a sigh of contentment. Even began to wonder if they had been building toward this moment their entire lives. It sounded ridiculous since they hardly even knew each other, but something about this moment felt so right.

“God, you feel”—he pulled out slightly and rolled back in—“so fucking incredible.” He filled her again, picking up the pace until the world shifted beneath her. Literally.

“Gabe, the barrels,” she moaned, not really caring if they came tumbling down, as long as he didn’t stop until she came tumbling down.

“Shit,” he said. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She did and found herself pressed against the cold stone of the wall, Gabe never breaking the connection. He felt so good, Regan didn’t even mind the freezing wall or the stones pressing into her back. Her hand roved everywhere, and her legs squeezed with everything that she had. All she could do was feel Gabe’s lips on her neck, his body slam in and out of her until everything went black and she couldn’t feel anything.

She heard Gabe moan her name and he followed her into a floating oblivion. When she came back to herself, he looked up at her and smiled. “Now the chaise.”

She thought he meant for another round, maybe two. Instead he walked them over to the chaise and placed her on the cushion, only to crawl in next to her, hold her close. He pulled her hair off of her shoulder and placed little kisses on her spine.

“I’ve been dreaming about that for years.” He pulled the fuzzy blanket over them.

“Years?” She turned over to face him so she could smack his chest. Which she did. All six of his packs. “You mean weeks.”

“Years.” He trapped her hand against his chest with his, the expression on his face serious. “Now, you want to argue some more or can we take a nap?”

“Did you hear that?” Regan whispered. And if she was talking about all those sexy little noises she was making a little while ago, his answer was yes. But he was too spent to talk, so he shifted closer, smelled gingerbread, and tightened his arms.

“Gabe, I’m serious.” She elbowed him.

“So am I,” he said, eyes firmly shut but still managing to find all her curvy spots with his hands. He pulled her to him, loving how she gasped when she discovered he was already hard. “I take this problem very seriously. And think it is our duty to solve it.”

At that she smacked his chest. “Someone is coming. And I have to get my clothes.”

“Then get your clothes,” he said, nibbling on her earlobe.

“I can’t,” she hissed. “You’re practically laying on top of me.”

Yeah, he’d noticed. Liked it, even. And though he too could hear movement coming from down below, he was fairly confident that whoever it was would go away. Fairly. Not many people knew about this place, but he didn’t need to let her know that.

“Better?” He rolled all the way on top of her, since the “practically” seemed to irritate her.

“No.” She glared up at him. He smiled back down at her. Then he kissed her, taking his own sweet time about it and waiting until she was as hot and bothered as he was before pulling back.

“How about now?” When she just stared up at him with dazed eyes he knew his job, for the moment, was complete. So he rolled off of her, giving her that space she was so adamant about.

It took a moment for her brain to unscramble, a condition he sympathized with, and then she stumbled to her feet. She gathered up most of her clothes, frantically searching for her bra, which he had tucked under the blanket. He, on the other hand, put his arms behind his head, leaned back, and watched the show. And what a show. Regan Martin had one hell of a smoking hot body. She was lean in all the right places, soft where she needed to be. And he didn’t even want to talk about how sweet she tasted.

Prickly and stubborn and so damn sweet she made his heart do stupid shit. Like feel.

“What are you doing?” She threw his shirt at his head.

“Thinking up how we’re going to spend our next rainy day.”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t help me find my bra, you might not see the next rainy day.”

She was about to get all worked up. Which made them even, because watching her prance around in a skirt and no bra had him all worked up too.

He pulled her bra out and dangled it from his fingers. She reached for it, and he yanked it just out of reach. Meaning she had to reach across him and he got another up close and personal of those perfect tens.

“Gabe,” she said, crossing her arms and only managing to make him hotter. But then he saw the look in her eyes. She wasn’t having fun.

“Hey.” He stood up and helped her get in her bra, which went against every man rule, helped her into her sweater and then pulled her into his chest. “I’m sorry, I was just screwing around. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not mad. I just don’t want someone to catch us up here and for everyone to think that I got my job by...”

Ah, hell. She didn’t say “banging the boss’s brother,” but it was what she was thinking. And it was what the gossip mill would say if Isabel and her PTA buddies found out. He kissed the top of her head and then helped her into her jacket.

“First off, you got that job on your own merit.” And because his brothers wanted to make sure she stuck around. Shit. “The stairs are hard to find and very few people know about them.”

“I found them,” she said, looking up through her lashes at him and damn near slaying him on the spot.

“And I used to sneak up here and have sex when I was in high school,” Jordan said from the doorway. “Never saw a naked ass like that, though. Impressive, boss.”

“Shit.” Gabe grabbed the blanket and draped it over his body, careful to cover Regan in the process. Clothed or not, she was feeling exposed and embarrassed. He could see it in every detail of her face.

“I hope you have a damn good reason for coming up here,” Gabe said, harsher than intended.

Jordan’s eyes went wide a moment before narrowing into two slits of pure attitude. “Although not as fun as yours, I do have one. Want to hear it, or are you going to yell at me some more?”

“Sorry,” Gabe said, guilt weighing hard. He never snapped. But hell, he could feel Jordan’s disapproval all the way in his conscience. The problem was, even though she was aiming it at Gabe, he could tell Regan was taking it personally.

“Apology accepted, although I think it is chivalrous of you to get surly on your woman’s behalf.” Jordan offered “his woman” a warm and supportive smile, making it clear that it was just Gabe who was the disappointment.

“Sorry. I was coming up to...how did ChiChi put it in her threatening call? Ah, yes. That I was to come up here and tell Regan that I would be thrilled to join the Costume Committee. And that since it happens to fall under my new job description as committee grommet, it is my task to find a location for Thursday’s sewfest, which I think will also double as a bitchfest.” Jordan’s smile told him just who they would be bitching about. “And since Regan’s place smells like decomposing fur, I was wondering if we could use yours?”

“My pla—”

“Yes? Great. Thanks, boss. You’re a stand-up guy.” With a final glance at Regan, one that women shared when bonding over castrating the opposite sex, Jordan turned and left. And with her she took all of the ease and comfort that Gabe and Regan had accomplished that afternoon.

“Explain to me how I ended up here, sewing glitter and shit on a costume for some kid that I don’t even know,” Frankie said, peeling dry, hot glue off her fingers. “Especially when I was supposed to be one of six committee members.”

“Pricilla and Lucinda are finishing up the last-minute details on the cupcakes for Holly’s party tomorrow. And ChiChi had a headache,” Regan explained, and didn’t believe the excuses any more than when the Mrs. Clauses had explained them to her.

“They didn’t know I had agreed to actually show up and help,” Jordan said, finishing the last stitch on the frog’s body and knotting it off. She cut the thread with her teeth and went on, confirming Regan’s suspicion. “Effectively ruining their matchmaking plan.”

“That still doesn’t explain why I got sucked into this.”

“Because scaredy-pants Regan didn’t want to do this alone,” Jordan said, jerking an obvious chin at Gabe, who sat on the couch with Holly watching
Puss in Boots
. “I figured since I had to be here, between the two of us we could pry out of her what’s going on between her and Gabe.”

Regan’s foot froze on the pedal, running the needle right up the crotch of the pantaloons and almost sewing her finger
to the fabric. The Band-Aid, already firmly in place from her last needle run-in, saved her. She grabbed the seam ripper and angrily tore out each stitch.

“Nothing.” And that was the God’s honest truth.

Since Monday, absolutely nothing had happened. He hadn’t called or e-mailed or done more than send her a friendly smile when he’d come to visit Marc at the hotel. It should have made Regan happy. It was exactly what they had agreed upon. It didn’t. It actually made her feel a little foolish and a whole lot confused. And every time she thought she’d gotten a hold on her emotions, Gabe would show up and remind her that casual was a hard concept for her to grasp.

Tuesday she’d gone to Pricilla’s to pick up Holly after school, something that was quickly becoming the norm, and found Gabe building a throne out of plywood and PVC piping, the three Mrs. Clauses sipping peppermint lattes and acting as backseat builders from the comfort of their chairs. Gabe had been sweaty and manly, and the second she’d walked in the Mrs. Clauses had made a sudden and obvious exodus, leaving them all alone. Then Gabe said he had to go, tearing out the door and leaving Regan with the PVC and not a clue as to what she’d done wrong.

Wednesday she’d been at Stan’s Soup and Service Station, eating a bowl of chipotle tomato bisque while Stan ran a diagnostic on her car, when Gabe walked in to buy a part for one of the work trucks and to grab lunch. With a sexy smile he’d walked over, and Regan, determined to bring things back to seminormal, had asked him if he’d like to have a bowl of soup with her. He’d just taken a seat and inquired about Holly’s play rehearsals when Trey walked in. The youngest
DeLuca shot one look at them and Gabe had immediately asked Stan to make his order to go.

By Thursday, Regan had accepted that whatever she’d felt had been one-sided. Even worse, she accepted that Gabe not only regretted their day together, but it had been such a bad experience that he was going out of his way to avoid her. Whether he was afraid she would get clingy or he was embarrassed to be seen with her, either way it hurt. A lot.

She told herself that it was for the best. Even convinced herself during the day, but at night when Holly was asleep and Regan was left alone with her thoughts, she would try to figure out what had gone wrong. And how to fix it. Leaving her tired and miserable and without a clue as to what to do—other than cry.

She’d been reminding herself that this was why she didn’t date—not that they had even gone out on a date, as
date
usually implied a meal or some kind of public statement—when she walked inside Picker’s Produce, Meats and More to get something of the
more
variety. Specifically, Rocky Road.

She had just dumped the second gallon in her cart and was on her tiptoes reaching for a third when a really nice pair of arms stretched around her and grabbed the last carton from the back of the refrigerated case. When she turned, she found Gabe looking stressed and uncomfortable.