Merry Christmas, Baby(27)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

She didn’t know when she’d laughed so much, Delphie thought, wiping her eyes. “Well, when you put it like that.”

“Trust me,” he said, as though confiding an important secret. “I know what I’m talking about. You should feel sorry for her. The romantic little fool has no idea what she’s in for.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Delphie said, chuckling. Unpaid treasure hunter. She mentally snorted, charmed all the same. “But I still wish I had a date.”

“I’ll go with you,” he volunteered, much to her immense and relieved surprise. “We’ll fill up on appetizers and make fun of everyone. It’ll be fun.”

Delphi stilled. Dare she hope? Could she be this lucky? “You don’t have other plans?”

Another toe-curling smile. “Er…not anymore, remember?”

“But what about the rest of your family?” Why was she arguing with him? Isn’t this what she’d wanted? Shut up, Delphie.

“They’re still in Arkansas,” he said. “My parents retired here, you know.” He winced, looking momentarily bleak. “Unfortunately, there is no other family in town.”

Her heart drooped for him, and she chastised herself for being selfish. “I’m sorry, Silas. This isn’t at all the Christmas you’d imagined, is it?”

“No,” he said slowly, releasing a fatalistic sigh. His gaze drifted over her face and settled hotly on her mouth. “But it’s improving every minute.”

Whoa.

Her n**ples suddenly tingled and heat flooded her belly, then slid south and settled. She pressed her legs together to keep from squirming and mentally calculated the last time she’d had sex. Bleh. Higher math had never been her strength, but she knew from her exaggerated reaction to the man sitting across from her that A plus B in this instance equaled Too Damned Long.

“You’d seriously go to my sister’s wedding with me?”

He cocked his head. “Is there going to be alcohol at this wedding?”

“Yes.”

“And dancing?”

“Yes to that as well.”

“And I’ll get to dance with you?” he clarified, pinning her with that hot, dark gaze. “As much as I want?”

Pleasure bloomed in her breathless chest. “If you’d like.”

“Sold,” he told her with a succinct nod, as if it were a no-brainer.

Relief washed through her, taking away a large portion of the dread. “Thanks, Silas. You’re sparing me more humiliation.”

“No problem. Besides, I’ve got an ulterior motive.”

A thrill snaked along her spine. She’d just bet he did. “Oh, really? What’s that?”

“I’m hoping you’ll reward me with a home-cooked meal,” he said, surprising her. He popped another bite of hush puppy into his mouth. “It’s been too long since I’ve had one.”

She imagined it had. And any chance of his mother’s Christmas dinner was down the drain now. No doubt he’d been anticipating that as much as seeing his family. For whatever reason, a meal shared always tasted better. Or it did to her, anyway. “Anything particular you’d like?”

“Fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy and macaroni and cheese,” he said without preamble.

“Done,” she told him, smiling. “Come over tomorrow evening and I’ll hook you up.”

Once again that dark gaze drifted across her face and settled on her lips. It was blatantly sexy, ridiculously thrilling and left absolutely no room for misinterpretation.

He wanted her.

Ulterior motive, indeed.

Something passed between them, an unspoken understanding, one that leveled the playing field and made intentions clear. She could have shied away—probably should have considering she’d just met him—and yet…she couldn’t. More tellingly, she didn’t want to.

Reckless? Potentially stupid? Most definitely. But there it was.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said, his voice low and promising.

And from the way her toes were curling, so would she.

3

SILAS HAD NEVER BEEN one to squander an opportunity and, as he walked Delphie back to her door, he had every intention of making the most of this one.

Though the idea of going to a wedding on a date at all—much less a first one—was about as palatable to him as a colonic cleanse, in this case he instinctively knew that he wouldn’t regret it.

In the first place, he’d be going with Delphie, the single most intriguing woman he’d ever met. And in the second place, he wasn’t going to have enough time at home for this to get awkward. Thirdly, most significantly, she was interested.

He’d watched the flash of awareness kindle in her gaze the moment his eyes had connected with hers and he’d be lying if he tried to claim it was anything other than extremely gratifying.

Admittedly his romantic skills were a bit rusty—all part and parcel of his job—but he still knew enough about women to recognize when one was digging him and, much to his satisfaction, Delphie Moreau was every bit as into him as he was into her.

This brief relationship had the power to be very mutually satisfying and, just to make sure she knew what he was about and to confirm his own suspicions, he fully intended to let her know right now.

She paused at her door and turned to face him. Lamplight glowed golden over her jet-black curls and cast the side of her face in shadow. His breath hitched and a peculiar sensation moved through his chest, one that he’d never experienced before.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said. He liked her voice. It was a bit husky, but musical. “I could’ve paid for mine.”

He stepped closer and watched her lips twitch in a smile of recognition. “I asked you out,” he said simply. “My treat.”

She looked away to hide a smile, then glanced back up at him. Minx. “So that was a date?”

“Definitely. Our first.”

She chuckled softly and gave him an admiring glance from beneath her lashes. “You work quick.”

He pulled a lazy shrug, not bothering to deny it. What was the point? “I don’t have much time.”

A little sigh slipped past her lips and a furrow emerged between her sleek brows. “There is that.”

“Am I reading this wrong?” Better to ask, he decided.

She considered him for a moment and he watched her gaze flicker to his mouth. “No,” she said, seemingly coming to some sort of decision. She looked up at him again. “You’re fun.”

“Fun? That’s all?”

“Fun’s good,” she insisted, laughing. “Everyone needs to have a little fun.”

He was more than willing to give her a lot of it. And here was a small preview.

Silas slipped a finger beneath her chin, gratified when he felt her shiver, and tilted her face up for a kiss. The first brush of his lips across hers snatched the breath from his lungs and, though he knew it wasn’t possible, he felt the ground shake beneath his feet. Startled, he drew back to see if she’d had a similar reaction, and she blinked drunkenly up at him, proof that she found him every bit as intoxicating.

It was all the confirmation he needed.

He bent his head again, this time laying siege against her mouth, and felt her instantly respond. She framed his face with her hands—a gesture that was as enflaming as it was tender—and slid her thumb beneath his jaw. Her sweet tongue moved against his, a mind-numbing seek and retreat that made him instantly hard and unreasonably hot. A low groan sounded in his throat and he wrapped his arms around her, fitting her small body more closely to his. She was lush and ripe and the plum-soft recesses of her mouth made him think of other soft womanly bits, particularly the generous mounds behind her lacy red bra and the even softer skin between her thighs.

He’d either been too long without a woman or this one held some sort of special appeal and, for reasons which escaped him, he didn’t want to mine his mind for the answer to that question.

He just wanted her. More fiercely and more desperately than he’d ever wanted another woman.

That thought should have sounded an internal alarm loud enough to rattle his teeth and yet it didn’t. He’d have to think more about that later.

Much later. Preferably when it was too late, when he was fitted firmly between her thighs, feeding on her marvelous br**sts.

And with any luck, she’d be his Christmas present.

SWEET MERCIFUL HEAVEN, Delphie thought as Silas’s big hands roamed down her back and settled hotly on her rear end. She’d been kissed before and had even considered Mr. Wrong a champion kisser…but he didn’t have anything on Silas Davenport.

For instance, Silas was one-hundred percent making love to her mouth and yet she could feel it quite keenly in another area farther south. Every time his expert tongue slid inside, her feminine muscles clenched, and with every movement of if his lips against hers, more heat seeped into her decidedly damp panties. Her goose bumps had goose bumps and if her n**ples got any harder they were going to shatter. Every bone in her body felt as if it had melted, which was probably why she was practically sliding all over him, Delphie thought.

If she’d ever been so turned on by a mere kiss, then she couldn’t recall it. Was it the alcohol? she wondered. Had it really been that much more potent?