Mistress Christmas: Wild West Boys (12 page)
“Sweet darlin’.” Nick’s voice held bewilderment and something deeper she couldn’t decipher.
Embarrassed, she glanced down at her hands. “I never meant to hurt you. Or trick you. Or lift your wallet.”
“I understand that now.”
“Last night was one hundred percent me in that hotel room. Holly North. Mild-mannered accountant gone wild.”
Several excruciating seconds passed before Nick sighed. “Maybe we were both at cross-purposes, at least initially. But everything I told you, everything I did, everything I was last night, was me too. Not Detective Nick West, just Nick West, a lonely man who’d gotten lucky enough to catch the eye and the attention of a beautiful, sweet, smart, sexy woman.”
Holly’s heart kicked into high gear as she heard his footsteps getting closer. Very gently Nick lifted her chin to meet his gaze.
“Might sound sappy, but the first night you asked what I wanted for Christmas, so earnestly, like you really cared? I almost blurted out the truth.”
“Which is?”
“For a long time I’ve wished for a woman to see the real me. A woman with fire, passion and sweetness, inside the bedroom and out. A woman who could make me laugh, drive me insane with lust, challenge my mind and see beyond my badge, and my redneck background. You are that woman.”
“You sure? Not two hours ago you called me a thief.”
“Holly—”
“Do you know how bad I freaked out when I discovered I had your wallet? And then I saw that badge? I was half-afraid you’d show up here and bust me for solicitation.”
He practically snarled, “Like I said, it wasn’t a cop in bed with you last night, it was a man. A man who hopes to see a lot more of you—in bed and out.”
“What? You want to…date me?”
“It’ll do for now.”
“F-for n-now?” she sputtered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, how we met will be a great Christmas story to tell our kids and grandkids.” Nick closed her mouth after it’d dropped open in absolute shock. “Does that surprise you? Or scare you?”
“Both.”
“Me too, baby, me too. This all happened so fast. Like some kind of Christmas miracle. Sounds sappy, but it’s true.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes and hope clogged her throat. “So what now?”
“We build on the magic between us and see where it takes us.” He pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “And maybe I called you a thief because you stole my damn heart, not my wallet.”
Holly absolutely melted.
Nick kissed her; his mouth was as warm and sweet as his words. “Spend Christmas with me. We’ll do all the traditional things like decorate the tree, bake cookies and snuggle up to watch
A Christmas Story
. Then I’d like to start a few of our own traditions.”
Lord, she loved the feel of his lips on her skin. “Like?”
“Like making nekkid carpet angels underneath the Christmas tree. Decorating your body with peppermint-flavored gel. Wrapping you up with velvet ribbon and tyin’ you up with garland. I know how it turns you on to be trussed up like a Christmas turkey, darlin’.”
Holly couldn’t help it; she moaned.
His breath was hot in her ear. “Be my Mistress, Holly, not just for Christmas, but for every day.”
“Best proposition I’ve ever had, Not-So-Saint Nick.” She maneuvered him under the mistletoe and sealed the deal with a kiss.
Epilogue
One year later…
“Holly Jolly Christmas” blasted from the alarm clock. Nick rolled over and smacked the plastic box until the cheery song vanished back to the realm of hell from whence it came. He returned to his spot, but the warm, curvy body he’d been cuddled against had moved.
Frowning, he looked across the mattress. Bright green eyes blinked at him, followed by the sultry smile he’d never get tired of waking up to.
“Good morning, Mr. Scowly Face.”
“Good morning, Mrs. West.” Nick leaned forward and kissed her. “Mmm. I love the sound of that.” He stole another kiss just because he could. “Have I mentioned how much I love bein’ married to you?”
“We’ve only been married twelve hours, Nick.”
“Best twelve hours of my life, darlin’ wife.”
Truthfully, the last twelve months had been the best of his life. He and Holly had embarked on a whirlwind relationship. They’d spent Christmas together, were living together by Valentine’s Day, and were engaged by Easter.
So at sunset, exactly one year to the day Holly North had strutted across that stage and made all Nick West’s wishes—Christmas and otherwise—come true, they’d pledged their lives and love to each other on a secluded Hawaiian beach.
“Let’s get up. There’s a million things I want to do today besides lay around.”
“I’d like to lay in bed and do my wife all day,” he muttered.
“Nick!”
“What? Setting the alarm on the first day of our honeymoon is just plain wrong, Holls.”
Holly angled over and kissed his cheek, then rolled to the side and stood. Naked. “But I hear they’re serving mimosas on the restaurant terrace.”
It took Nick’s gaze a long time to reach her eyes. His wife was fine. Damn fine. “I’d rather be servicing you on our terrace.”
“But, honey, you know how much I love that bubbly stuff.”
“Yeah? And just to show you how much I love you, and how eager I am to compromise in this marriage, I’ll point out there’s a quart of orange juice in the fridge.”
Holly’s slow, sexy grin appeared. “Then I’ll get the champagne.”
About the Author
To learn more about Lorelei James, please visit
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Look for these titles by Lorelei James
Now Available:
Rough Riders
Long Hard Ride
Rode Hard, Put Up Wet
Cowgirl Up and Ride
Tied Up, Tied Down
Rough, Raw, and Ready
Running With the Devil
Dirty Deeds
Menage and More Anthology: Wicked Garden
Beginnings Anthology: Babe in the Woods
Coming Soon:
Rough Riders
Branded As Trouble
The greatest gift is getting what you never thought you wanted.
Unraveled
© 2008 Jaci Burton
Mitch Magruder, rich, successful, wildly popular surfer and entrepreneur, is always on the lookout for the next big wave or the next great deal. So when he’s home for the holidays, he jumps at the chance to build one of his famous hotels right on the white, sandy, Florida beach where he grew up. The only thing standing in his way is Greta Mason.
Divorced with two children, Greta welcomes the struggle to make ends meet at the ramshackle beachfront motel her father left her. The motel means everything to her, and no amount of money—or hot nights of persuasion—offered by gorgeous, sexy Mitch is going to change her mind. No matter how much his touch unravels her defenses.
For once, Mitch finds he’s the one doing the chasing, and Greta’s doing more than throwing a monkey wrench into his perfectly orchestrated world. She’s making him think about things he’s never considered before, things other than the pursuit of money. Things like settling down with the right woman.
Now if only he can convince her he wants more than hot sex, moonlit nights, and her hotel…
Warning: This book contains sun, sand, surf, bikinis, hot men in board shorts, talk of Christmas shopping (ack!) foreplay, midplay, afterplay, and all that deliciously naughty explicit sex (up against the wall, in a limo and…*gasp*…even in a bed!).
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Unraveled:
Greta stood motionless, her feet rooted to the floor of the cabana. Mitch didn’t seem to mind, just swayed back and forth, their bodies connected, not asking her for any more than she was willing to give.
Finally, she found her feet and followed him. He led her around the table. The cabana wasn’t large, and between the table and chairs and the sofa—correction—bed that loomed in the corner, they had to stay close and dance in small steps. But still, it was magical. The music and the man who held her, the scent of salt breezing in from the ocean, the flicker of torches dancing along the edges of the sand outside, was all a sensual assault that overwhelmed her.
Part of her wanted to fight it, but another part of her realized that was stupid. Mitch was an attractive man, and she was a grown woman who’d had too little fun in her life. He’d offered her an amazing night. She’d be foolish to turn tail and run. He wasn’t offering her forever, or even a relationship. As long as she kept her wits about her and realized he was trying to seduce the motel out from under her, she could accept the fun and keep the motel.
She knew exactly what Mitch was up to. But she could still enjoy being with him, without giving him everything he wanted.
“Let’s take a walk.”
He held her hand while she slipped off her shoes. He took off his jacket, his shoes and socks, rolled up his sleeves and pants legs, and they stepped out onto the sand. Mitch led her down to the water’s edge where the breeze blew stronger, whipping her hair, salt stinging her skin and the waves teasing her toes.
She loved it. This was her home, the water as much a part of her as her own skin. The moon cast a silver glow over the dark water, lending its depths a mysterious quality that had always compelled her.
She stopped and turned to the sea. “I used to stand at the water’s edge at night when I was a kid, and could swear all the mermaids and mermen came out in the dark when we couldn’t see them.”
Mitch slid his hand in hers. “I looked for ghostly pirate ships on foggy nights and imagined stowing away and sailing to the ends of the earth.”
She laughed. “The endless dreams of children. How sad that we have to grow up and face reality.”
He looked down at her. “Do we?”
“I hardly think there are mermaids or pirate ships out there.”
“No, but there are new dreams to believe in. The problem with adults is that so many give up on having dreams.”
She turned and started walking again, but Mitch held on to her hand.
“Some dreams aren’t attainable,” she said.
“You can do anything you set your mind to do.”
“Easy if you already have money.”
“Not everyone starts with money, Greta. You just have to figure out what you want, then determine how you’re going to get it. Then let nothing stand in your way until you do.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Having something that really matters to you is never easy. But it’s not impossible.”
“Sometimes it is impossible.”
He stopped, reached for her shoulders, his fingers warm against her wind-chilled skin. “It’s only impossible if you give up your dreams.”
“My dreams died a long time ago.”
He slid his knuckles against her cheek. “They shouldn’t have. You’re way too young to give up on what you really want.”
“I don’t know what I really want anymore. I stopped thinking about myself a long time ago.”
“Maybe it’s time you started again.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need or want anything.”
His slight smile made her belly quiver. “Don’t you? Are you sure there’s nothing you want?”
He wasn’t talking about her motel. She knew it, and he knew it.
Waves pounded the shore, sending water across her feet. But she stood rooted to the spot, her toes digging into the wet sand as Mitch moved in, erasing any space between them.
Now her own blood rushing through her veins obliterated the sound of the crashing surf. Mitch leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. She tasted wine, the salty spray of the sea, and she raised up, twining her arms around his neck to press closer, hungry for more.
Mitch obliged her, sliding his tongue inside her mouth and licking against hers, then pressing his lips more firmly, tightening his hold on her, bringing her closer to him so she could feel every hard inch of his body. He was well toned for a man his age—hell, for a man way younger than him. His body was all hard muscle as she slid her arms across his shoulders and down his arms. He palmed the small of her back and brought her against the rock hard plane of his chest, his abs, the prominent erection she couldn’t—didn’t want to—ignore.
Her breathing shallowed as his kiss deepened, and she forgot that his hands were on her ass, that they stood at the water’s edge, right there in public. Could someone see them? Did she even care? Her brain was fuzzy—too much wine. She wanted to feel his skin under her fingertips. She had sensory overload and her synapses weren’t firing correctly. She needed to think, and yet this one night she wanted to give up thinking. All she wanted to do was feel, and she was doing a pretty good job of noticing that one of Mitch’s hands had cupped the cheek of her ass, the other gripped her hip and was now traveling over her waist, her ribs, and when he covered her breast she gasped into his mouth. His groan against her lips made her tremble.
She rocked against him, her pussy wet and quivering with awakening. It had been so long. She needed a man—just for tonight. Then she could take off the Cinderella ball gown, toss on her shorts and T-shirt and go back to cleaning the castle once again. But tonight, she really wanted to be the princess and enjoy the prince, knowing that she and Mitch were worlds apart, that in a week or so he’d fly off in a corporate jet somewhere, and she’d have wonderful memories of a night spent in his arms, without commitment, without strings. She demanded nothing, and neither would he.
A bad boy is about to find out just how naughty a good girl can be.
Sweet Charity
© 2008 Lauren Dane
After eight long years of pretending a horrible one-night stand hadn’t happened and wondering if it had been her fault, Charity Harris has finally coaxed handsome bad boy and lifelong friend, Gabriel Bettencourt, back into her bed. It’s not just good, it’s fanfreakingtastic! Trouble is, he’s persisting with his story about not wanting a relationship and not being good enough for her even as their friendship blooms into something looking a lot like love.
