Wicked Craving (22 page)

Savannah looked over at her grandmother and saw that Gran had nodded off. She smiled and said, “I'm taking her to Disneyland tomorrow…make it up to her for neglecting her so much this past week.”

“Something tells me your grandma didn't feel neglected,” Dirk replied as he got up from his chair, picked up one of Savannah's afghans, and spread it over Granny's lap, then pulled it up over her shoulders. “She's the type who entertains herself. She's a honey.”

“She is. One in a million.”

Savannah studied Dirk in the soft, golden lamplight, and thought that Granny wasn't the only honey in the room. Though he wasn't likely to own up to it.

“It was good to see you back on your feed again,” she told him, her voice soft and sweet.

“What?”

“Your diet. You seem to be off it tonight. You were chowing down, big time, on those ribs and that potato salad.”

“Oh, man…I didn't even know how much I'd missed your food. I took that first bite of ribs and almost burst into tears.” He cleared his throat. “Wouldn't wanna do that in front of Ryan and John.”

“No, absolutely not.”

Dirk glanced over at Granny. “You think she's gonna sleep for a while?”

“Oh, she's out. Why?”

“'Cause there's something I've gotta show you, something about that diet I've been on and the trips to the gym and all that. And I don't want her to see.”

Savannah sat up straight in her chair, all ears and eyes. “Sure. What is it?”

“I didn't want to tell you about it at all, but I know if I don't, somebody else will.”

She gulped. “Okay.”

“And it's not the sort of thing that I want you to hear about secondhand.”

“I understand.”

He walked over to the desk chair, where he had hung his leather jacket when he had arrived. He fished around inside the inner pocket and pulled out an envelope.

Savannah felt time slow down, the way it had at times in her life when she was about to hear something huge, something that would change everything. She steeled herself for the revelation.

He said, “I want you to take a look and tell me what you think. And be nice. No wisecracking, okay?”

“Wisecracking? Me? You forget who you're talking to.”

“I know exactly who I'm talking to. That's why I'm warning you. I need you to be my sweet, understanding Savannah.”

He sat down on the footstool at her feet and held out the small manila envelope. When she reached for it, her hand was shaking. “I'll be good,” she said. “If it's important to you, it's important to me.”

She opened the envelope and looked inside.

“Pictures?” she asked. “Your big secret is pictures?”

“Actually, the photographer called them ‘proofs.'”

She pulled the stack out of the envelope and leaned closer to the lamp beside her.

At first, she wasn't sure what she was seeing. It was a shot of a man, from the waist up, wearing a snug, muscle-hugging, red shirt. He had quite a lot of muscles and was looking particularly good in his red shirt. In fact, he was looking extremely good in that red shirt.

“Oh, my god!” she said. “It's you!”

Even in the dim light, she could see him blushing. “Yeah, yeah, it's me.”

She looked at the next one in the stack. In this one, he wasn't wearing any shirt at all. Just some red pants with a wide, black belt, and a red hat with white fur around its edges. His tanned chest and biceps bulged in all the right places.

“Holy moly! It's been way too long since I saw you with your shirt off! You're a hunk, dude!”

“Yeah? Really?”

“Smokin' hot!”

The next picture was more of the same outfit, different position, a definite “come hither” look on his face.

“I don't know if I'd have chosen that particular outfit, but man, you look great! You could be on the cover of a romance novel!”

“The outfit wasn't really my choice. It had to be something Christmas-ish, and I told them no way I was gonna pose with nothing but a sprig of mistletoe over my you-know-what.”

“So, this is why you've been dieting and shopping at Ryan and John's stores and working out? You were getting boudoir pictures taken?”

“What's a boo-dwar picture?”

“Naughty pictures to give to your wife or girlfriend. But you don't have a wife or a girlfriend, so…” She flipped to the next shot, which looked like he was nude but holding a gift-wrapped box in front of him.

“I told them I'd need an extra-large package for that shot. You know…to cover my…”

“Don't say it.”

“My extra-large package.”

She groaned. “I told you not to say it.” The last was of him wearing a skin-tight, red tank top, again with all the muscles bulging in the right places. He was holding a giant candy cane at a moderately suggestive angle. “These are great. Really. But why the Christmas theme?”

She looked up and saw that he was grinning, all nervousness gone and smug satisfaction in its place.

“You,” he said, “are looking at Mr. December himself. In the glorious flesh.”

“Mr.
December
?”

“That's me. Mr. December of the SCPD Charity Hunk Calendar. The proceeds go to disabled officers' kids. It's a really good cause, you know. I couldn't say no.”

“They chose you for the Hunk Calendar! Get outta here!”

“Well, don't look so surprised. There're only thirteen guys in the department right now and one of them is Kenny Bates.”

“Yeah, I see your point.”

“And I knew that when the calendar came out, you'd see it, so…I had to tell you.”

Savannah sat quietly for a long time, looking at the pictures, her hands no longer trembling.

Finally, she broke the long silence and said, “I thought you'd got yourself a girlfriend. I thought you'd fallen in love with somebody el—” She choked a little. “I mean…with somebody.”

He looked at her for a long time, his eyes tender, an enigmatic half smile on his face. “Is that what you thought?”

She nodded, not looking at him.

He put out his hand, so she stuffed the photos into the envelope to give them back to him. But when she did, he didn't take them. Instead, he caught her by the wrist and pulled her toward him.

A moment later, they were face-to-face, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.

“Let me tell you something, girl,” he said, his voice deep and low. “The day that I actually admit that I'm in love…you're gonna be the very first to hear it. Nobody else.”

She opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out. So she tried again. “Okay.”

He smiled, his eyes searching hers. “And don't you ever forget that.”

“Okay.”

He took the envelope out of her hand and stood. “I've gotta get going,” he said, putting on his bomber jacket. “Do you want me to carry Gran up the stairs to bed?”

“No. Just let her sleep down here. That's what she always does. But hey, before you go…”

He turned around and looked at her, a vulnerable, sweet expectancy in his eyes. “Yes…?”

“I know what I want for Christmas.”

“What's that, sweetheart?”

“I want an eight by ten of you and your…um…extra-large package for my nightstand.”

He gave her a wicked grin and waggled one eyebrow. “Well, you be a real good little girl, and we'll see what old Santa Claus puts in your stocking.”