After the Christmas Party...

“That I really don’t like Christmas so why would I purposely choose to celebrate it?”

Had a more stubborn woman ever walked the face of the earth?

“Okay, fine.” He sighed. “We won’t go to my boss’s Christmas party that he invited me to and mentioned bringing you with me.” Was it wrong that he was laying on the guilt as thick as could be? “What would you prefer to do tomorrow night?”

“Just because I don’t want to go, it doesn’t mean you can’t go, Riley. You go ahead and have enough fun for both of us.”

Ouch. “You want me to go to a party without you?”

“If it’s a Christmas party? Yes.” She put a lot of emphasis on the word. “I do.”

What woman wanted her man to go to a party without her? Or maybe she didn’t think of him as her man? He’d purposely fought to keep the physical side of their relationship at bay because she was so obstinate she’d be likely to use them having sex against him. If he went to a party without her, she’d likely do the same.

He shook his head. “What if I’d rather be with you?”

“Then maybe we could go for a walk on the beach,” she surprised him by suggesting. He’d expected her to insist on him going, on her insisting she had other plans. She rarely said yes without him having to sweet-talk her. He didn’t like it and kept waiting for her to quit playing such games. Maybe she finally had.

“To be so close to the Gulf,” she continued. “I’ve barely been there.”

“My place okay?”

Without looking at him, she nodded. “Yes.” She put great emphasis on the word. “That would be fine.”

Wow. Maybe they really had reached a turning point. Good, because keeping his hands to himself was growing more and more difficult. He wanted her.

“You want me to grill some salmon fillets? We could walk on the beach afterwards then sit on my deck and enjoy a glass of wine?”

Make love under the stars, in his bed, his shower especially, because ever since he’d mentioned her giving him a private viewing he hadn’t been able to get the image from his mind. Or maybe they’d just sit on his deck and talk. Just so long as she let her guard down long enough for them to enjoy the night, he’d be a happy camper, sex or not.

“I don’t drink,” she said, but at least she hadn’t said no.

“Cool. We’ll sip juice on my deck.” Other than the occasional glass of wine, he generally didn’t drink either, so wine or juice wasn’t a big deal to him. Plus, he wanted a completely clear mind if and when they touched. “I’ll pick up some fillets on my way home and let them marinate tonight. you want a spinach salad? Maybe some sautéed asparagus in butter sauce?”

Trinity blinked up at him. “Are you for real? I just made you grilled cheese for your surprise dinner the other night.”

“Pinch me and see.” He waggled his brows, feeling lighter than he had in days. He hadn’t realized just how frustrated he’d grown. “I’ll pick the spot.”

Her lips twitched with a smile she couldn’t hold back and his entire insides warmed. Finally they were making real progress.

“I should do just that. Only I’d have to pick the spot.”

“I’m game. Anywhere in particular you’d prefer to start? I could offer a few suggestions. Maybe give you a few pointers on my preferences?”

She looked up as if she was going to roll her eyes, but her smile was now full blown. “You really are crazy, you know?”

He thought about reminding her of exactly what he was crazy about, but just grinned, happier than he should be that she’d agreed without him having to talk her into doing so.

“I don’t want to keep you from your boss’s party, Riley,” she relented, but he could tell she wasn’t enthused at the prospect. “Not if it’s something you want to go to.”

“Not a problem.” His insides felt light. “I like our plans better anyway.”

Her smile made her eyes sparkle with the brilliance of twinkling green Christmas lights. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“I feel guilty that you’re going to cook for me. Is there something I can do?”

He nodded.