Christmas in His Bed

15

TATUM SMOOTHED HER hands over her hair and straightened the tie on her sweater. Her skintight black pencil skirt, clinging cream wrap-sweater and tall black boots hadn’t been the most practical traveling attire, but it had definitely drawn a lot of attention her way. Hopefully it would have the same effect on Spencer. He’d been right—they needed to talk. And even though she’d shut him down, she hoped he’d give her another chance. Being vulnerable was something she avoided at all costs. And she was nervous as hell.

The last five days had been good for her.

Gretchen had been a truly generous host, showing her the sights of San Diego, the coastal beauty and the friendly people. There’d been a lot of laughing, a lot of drinking, and too many late nights talking about what they wanted out of life.

Tatum hadn’t wanted to bring up Spencer. But Gretchen had asked.

“Come on, I’ve been dying to know. This is the guy you compared everyone to? Your true love.” She’d been teasing, but her words had struck a chord.

Spencer had always been her measuring stick. Even when he wasn’t part of her life, he’d been there.

He was the only man she’d loved with all of her. Poor Brent never stood a chance. Even after the wedding, her defenses had stayed up.

With Spencer, her defenses crumbled. It was terrifying. And wonderful.

And the more she thought about him, the more she missed him, the more she realized she was a complete idiot. She knew why he’d told her the truth about their past. He loved her. He still loved her. Her whole I’m-in-control stance was a joke. She wasn’t in control. Her fear was.

And being afraid of Spencer, of loving him, was the last thing she wanted.

Now she stood, eager and terrified, to see him. It had only been five days. But in those five days she’d gone from holding him at arm’s length to holding him in her heart. She paced, bought a bottle of water at one of the news shops and was opening it when he walked in.

Keep it together.

His blue eyes found her immediately, the pull between them instantaneous. But she stood her ground and made him come to her. She didn’t miss his head-to-toe inspection, or the fact that his jaw clenched so tight his teeth were in danger.

“Hi,” he said, his voice raspy and low.

“Hi.”

“You look...” He swallowed. “You look good. How’s the head?”

She moved closer, using the electricity between them. She knew he wanted her. It seemed like the right place to start. She turned her head, leaning closer and lifting her hair to show him the scar. “Stitches are out. I’m still a little tender, though.” Their proximity wasn’t just affecting him. He smelled so good, too good. “And I have a patchwork of rainbow-colored bruises along my side.” She lifted the front wrap of her sweater, exposing the plane of her stomach, her belly button and the remains of her yellow-green bruise.

His eyes lingered on her stomach. He swallowed, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. He shoved his hands into his pockets and muttered, “I need to get my luggage. Then we can go.”

“You look tired,” she said. It was true. Not just tired. Worn-out. There were bags under his eyes. And his eyes looked...haunted. “Long week?”

His gaze searched hers. “Yes.”

She held his gaze, unflinching. But when his attention wandered to her mouth she had to turn away. She wanted him to kiss her, oh so badly. But not yet. “Let’s go get your bag.”

She reached for the handle of her suitcase at the same time he did. Their fingers brushed, the stroke of skin on skin making her stomach tighten and her lungs empty. She’d missed him. This time, she leaned into him to draw his scent deep into her lungs. And when his hand wrapped around hers, tugging her into his arms, she melted. She could turn into him, press her lips to his neck... Instead, she pulled out of his hold and stepped back.

He stood there, staring down at her, his hand gripping her suitcase handle.

>

“Ready?” she asked, hoping she sounded unaffected. Because inside, she was on fire.

He nodded and set off toward the airline customer service desk.

While he spoke to the agent, she knocked her bag over, spilling the contents onto the floor. So much for smooth. But as she bent to collect them she remembered he was fond of her ass. She straightened slowly, appreciating his sudden hiss of breath.

“Got it,” he bit out.

She straightened, knowing she was teasing him but unable to stop. He couldn’t seem to move. The plum lacy strap of her bra peeking from the deep V of her sweater had him mesmerized.