She reached for the coffee instead.
“You’d better come and get warm by the fire,” she muttered, averting her gaze.
She followed him into the living room. They needed to talk about this in the rational light of day. What had happened last night had been wild—aberrant. Words would help to contain the power of their potent tryst. An honest discussion—it was a crazy mistake. Let’s just forget it ever happened—would put everything neatly into perspective.
Angeline opened her mouth to begin this difficult, but necessary containment. Unfortunately, her gaze fell on the mussed sleeping bags. The memory of falling asleep with Alex’s arms surrounding her swamped her brain.
“Angeline?”
She blinked, realizing Alex stood with one hand upon the mantel, watching her as she gaped at the cozy nest where they’d shared each other’s body heat all night. She looked at him, her mouth still hanging open.
“Merry Christmas.”
His simple greeting took her so off guard he might as well have proclaimed that it was snowing roses.
“I… Merry Christmas. I’d forgotten about it…with everything.”
His gaze dropped to her shaking hand. He stepped forward and took the trembling coffee cup, setting it on the mantel next to his. He turned, grabbing her still-outstretched hand. When he started to draw her into his arms, Angeline flinched and took several steps back. His expression went rigid, but she forced herself to meet his fierce stare.
“Alex, it was a mistake. Surely you must see that.”
That obstinate, insolent look she’d become all too familiar with yesterday settled on his features. “I see no such thing.”
He picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee.
“How can you say that?” she demanded. “We don’t even know each other!”
“I thought we made a pretty good start last night. Nothing to stop us from continuing to get acquainted if you want to find out more about me, though,” he drawled. Angeline saw the small smirk that gorgeous mouth highlighted to perfection with that dark goatee and knew he was trying to provoke her. The realization stiffened her spine with anger.
“I hardly think adding to the crime is going to make things better.”
She tensed when his small smile faded and his eyes turned to blue chips of ice. “I think you’d better go clean up in the bathroom, Angeline.”
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s the only other room in the house that’s reasonably warm. I put the heater in there earlier.”
“I don’t understand how that relates to—”
“It relates because if you make one more stupid comment about last night being a crime, your ass is going to end up under my palm. Like I said, best you go into another room at the moment.”
“Alex, threatening me when we need to discuss this is hardly help—”
She stopped in the middle of her protest when she saw the hard gleam that entered his eyes. Heat surged into her face and pussy, causing her to replay in her mind what he’d just said. Her own body seemed to be able to interpret that look in his eyes better than her brain could. Alex was irritated at her, but the idea of spanking her had aroused him, as well.
Just like it had her, on some deep, primal level, apparently.
He took a step toward her and Angeline took a step back.
“It wasn’t an idle threat. Better go,” he said quietly, his tone carrying a hint of warning.
She spun around and retreated. She refused even to look at him—although she felt his stare on her—as she retrieved her bag and stalked down the frigid hallway toward the bathroom.
Alex regretted his bitter response to Angeline’s words, but not enough to apologize when she re-entered the living room over an hour later. He’d begun to wonder what the hell she was doing in that bathroom, seeing as he’d heard the shower running for all of three minutes. He already knew from firsthand experience that one didn’t tend to want to linger in an ice-cold shower, and it’s not like there was any electricity for blow-dryers or curling irons. But the bathroom door had remained closed for the next hour, not a sound emanating from the interior.
When she walked into the living room, he shifted the book he’d been reading with varying degrees of success as he alternated between focusing on the printed page and possible sounds coming from the end of the hallway.
Without sparing him so much as a glance, Angeline set the kerosene heater she’d been carrying in the middle of the space in front of the sofa and before the fire. Her actions struck him as aggressive, somehow. She seemed to be trying to tell him something, given the stubborn tilt of her chin.