A Sheikh for Christmas (All I want for Christmas is... 1)

“Unless you have somewhere else to go,” he said, eager to make it sound like he wasn’t keen on keeping her around, even though he kind of was, for reasons he wasn’t ready to admit just yet. “If you do, then by all means, get out.”

Her expression shifted to annoyance. “Funny. I told you I don’t have any money.”

“And no job skills either, correct?” He nodded toward the toaster, which now had black smoke rising out of it. “Best unplug that and dump it out then try again.”

“Shit.” She pulled the plug from the outlet and retrieved the charred bread from the slots, tossing them into the trash atop the mangled pan before trying again. “See? I’m hopeless.”

“Hmm.” Given her crap cooking, he wasn’t inclined to disagree. But there had to be something she could do, something she was good at. Obviously she’d been educated, so she had to have some skills. “Where did you go to college?”

“Vassar.”

“Well, you had to get good grades to get into that school. What were your best subjects?”

“I liked history.” She tapped her finger against her full bottom lip, drawing his attention to her soft pink lips again. His thoughts once more swerved to what those lips might feel like against his, what she might taste like on his tongue. He shook off the inappropriate track his thoughts had taken and nodded toward the toaster. “Better check that bread again.”

Melody did and this time the toast was perfect, if a bit on the darker side. She smiled, finally, and his world brightened. “Thanks. Guess I can do something correctly, right?” Her soft hums filled the kitchen as she spread butter on the bread. “Oh, and to answer your question. No, my grades weren’t particularly good. My mom went to Vassar, which means I’m a legacy. If you had a relative who went there, that increases your chances of getting in. My dad donating a huge amount to renovate their auditorium didn’t hurt either.”

“I see,” he said, frowning. There went that avenue of opportunity. Still, she wasn’t stupid, contrary to popular belief. He refused to believe that a woman who could scrounge her way from one side of the earth to the other didn’t have some marketable skills. He’d just have to dig a little deeper to find them, that was all. “What did you major in? Perhaps some of those classes could translate into marketable skills.”

“Liberal arts,” she said as she slathered the next piece of toast with butter.

Daveed did his best to hide his cringe at her words and failed miserably, if the irritated look she gave him was any indication. “That doesn’t give us a lot to work with.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” She shook her head and placed the dirty knife in the sink. “Considering my parents had my whole life basically planned out for me before I turned eighteen, I never really thought I’d need college. I only went for the parties.”

“Wow. That’s depressing.”

“Which part? The fact they had my life planned out or the parties?”

“Both.” He carried their plates of food over to the bar. After pouring them each a glass of orange juice, Daveed grabbed the morning paper and sat it beside Melody on the counter then took his seat and snagged a stack of Post-It notes from near the landline phone along with a pen. “Guess you should start with the classifieds. There’s always places that need wait staff or cashiers. Maybe that’s right up your alley anyway, considering how you love to spend mo

ney.”

“Very funny.” She squinted at the paper then him. “What are you doing?”

“Making a list,” Daveed said, scribbling. “Pros and Cons.”

“Of the job market?”

“Nope. Of you.”

Melody sat back and crossed her arms while he did his best not to notice how the movement only served to highlight her magnificent rack. “I can’t wait to hear you proclaim all my faults.”

Daveed shrugged, glancing over at her as he swallowed a bite of his eggs. “Let’s see. Under Pros we have highly energetic.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Under the Cons column we have hopelessly disorganized.”

“Wait a minute.” She scowled. “You can’t possibly know that about me. We just met.”

He raised a brow and stared pointedly at the disaster area the kitchen had become in the short time she’d been in it. He’d also had the dubious pleasure of catching a glimpse of the guest room earlier and it looked like a hurricane had gone through there. She’d been in Heath’s condo for one night and already it appeared they’d need to call in the Red Cross for aid.

Melody compressed her lips and scrunched her nose, pink color rising in her cheeks. “Okay. Fine. Tidiness and organization aren’t my strong suits. But I have skills in other areas.”

“Enlighten me,” he said, pen at the ready to jot them down.

“I can sniff out a bargain at Bloomingdales from fifty feet away. And I can plan the crap out of a bachelorette party.”