Wolfsbane and Mistletoe (Page 42)

"Now, let’s get that coffee," Brodie said, as he opened the car door for me.

"I’d really rather go home," I said, shivering a little despite the thermal thickness of my coat. The building may have been heated, but it hadn’t done a lot to chase the chill away from my skin. "Besides, I’m wet and I’m dressed as an elf. Not the sort of outfit any respectable person would wear to a nice cafe."

"Nonsense. You look lovely in it." He slammed the door shut and climbed in the other side of the car. "And I promised you cake. I intend to keep that promise."

"Yeah, it would be this one," I muttered.

He ignored me and drove out of the parking lot. I watched the world go by, half of me wanting to play it safe and go home, but the other half – the foolish half – wanting his company, however dangerous that might be to my emotional health. Unfortunately, the foolish half was winning the war.

"Hey, we just passed a perfectly respectable-looking cafe."

"Is mere respectable going to gain me a smile?"

"Not even triple chocolate cake with fresh cream is going to gain you that, my friend."

"My friend?" He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. "That’s better than rat. Or what was it you called me the other day? During that brief moment you deigned to speak to me?"

"I called you a stinking love rat," I muttered. "And let’s not make this about what I’ve done. You’re the one who left me, not the other way around."

"And I do believe I have apologized profusely for that." He slowed down for a red light, then added, "And, technically speaking, the term love rat does not apply, because I have never loved anyone else."

Again my heart did that treacherous little lurch. Calm down, stupid. He didn’t mean it that way. He left you, remember? That doesn’t infer love in any way, shape, or form.

"That’s not what the office talk is."

"You should know better than to listen to office talk. After all, they had us married off within three weeks of us starting to date."

So did I. Of course, we’d only lasted a total of six weeks. I looked away and blinked back tears. Damn it, this is why it was a bad idea to speak to him.

He pulled into a side street, and began to slow the car down. Old two-story houses rubbed shoulders with interesting little shops, but none of them resembled a cafe or anything actually open.

"Here we are," he said, stopping the car in front of a pretty blue and white two-story building.

"And where is here?" I asked, looking up at the window boxes filled with greenery.

"Mom’s," he said, and got out of the car.

"What?" But I was talking to thin air. Or thick air, in his case. I waited until he opened my door and added, "I am not going inside to meet your mother."

Especially when she had totally disapproved of me and Brodie going out.

"Well, good, because she’s not there. No one is. They’re all at my gran’s for the night."

He took my hand and tugged lightly. I remained right where I was.

"Then why are we even here? You know how your mom feels about me."

"That isn’t a problem anymore, trust me. Besides, you wanted triple chocolate with fresh cream, and my mom bakes the best you’ll ever taste. Come on."

He tugged harder, leaving me with little choice. With the bells on my feet ringing joyously, I untangled my legs from my coat and got out.

"We need to get you some decent clothes," he said, his gaze sweeping me critically but still managing to leave me feeling all hot and bothered. "You look rather cold and wet."

He opened the gate and began leading me up the garden path. In more ways than one, I suspected.

"That’s because I am cold and wet. And I have perfectly decent clothes waiting for me at home. You need to take me back there."

"If I do, you won’t come back here."

"So?"

"So, all the progress I’ve made this evening will go sliding away, and I’ll be back to being the rat."

"But you’ve never stopped being the rat," I said sweetly. "So what’s the problem?"

He laughed, a warm rich sound that slid across my skin as sensuously as a caress. He opened the door and waved me inside. I slid past and tried without success to ignore the tangy heat of him. The way my body ached to press forward just that little bit more, and feel all that heat against my skin.

Hello, last Christmas? Remember that? Remember the whole he’s a bad man and we don’t like him spiel?

I remembered. Unfortunately, I also remembered how good it felt being with him, and no matter how much I told myself I was just setting myself up for more heartache, I couldn’t help the need to soak in the warmth of his presence one more time.

You’re a sap. And an idiot.

And it’s Christmas, and I’m lonely.

It was dark inside the house, but the air was warm and smelled ever so slightly of baking. I sniffed lightly as I hung my coat up on the nearby hook. While the hints of ginger and vanilla were strong, they were underlined by an animal mustiness, and it was a strong reminder that this wasn’t any ordinary house. That this was the abode of werewolves.

He caught my hand, his fingers so warm against mine. "This way." He led me up a set of stairs and into a bathroom. "There’s clean towels on the shelf above the bath, and a clean robe behind the door."

"Brodie – "

He stopped the words with a short, sharp kiss that left me breathless and yet wanting more. "I’ll have coffee and cake waiting downstairs."

And with that, he left me standing there, staring in shock at the back of a door. This night was so not going to plan. Well, not to my plans, at least. It was becoming a little obvious that he had a whole lot more planned for his Christmas than just catching a killer.

I blew out a breath and began to strip off. I had two choices – stay or leave – and as much as I knew it was a stupid move, I wanted the cake, and the coffee, and his company for a little bit longer.

I might well be setting myself up for another crappy Christmas, but it was supposed to be the season of goodwill to all men, wasn’t it? And Brodie was definitely a man . . .

And I was reaching for straws in an effort to justify the stupidity of my actions.

I shoved the thoughts away and took a shower, then donned my still-wet underwear. I’d rather risk getting a chill than being naked around Brodie. After wrapping myself up in the thick, fluffy gown, I finger-combed my short hair then I grabbed the sodden elf outfit and headed downstairs. Following his scent led me into the rich-smelling warmth of the kitchen.

He was pouring coffee into a mug, and there were two huge slabs of cake already sitting on a tray.