Tinsel and Temptation Page 2

  “Go ahead. It’s the first door on your left.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dom stepped into the bathroom, switched on the lights and exhaled carefully.

  Brian Parker deserved worse than a broken nose for kidnapping him, but there were worse things in life that being kidnapped and forced to spending a Christmas holiday with his high school crush, Virginia Parker. Until this moment, he’d been pretty sure than he could stand next to her and not have a tugging need to move in closer, to catch the scent of her perfume or revel in the way she pursed her lips in that dainty feminine smirk.

  But no, she’d sank her hooks in him as a teen without even realizing it, and now, at twenty-two, she had mastered the sexy charm of just being a beautiful black woman. Back then, she’d been able to stun him with one glance of those luscious brown eyes. And she still had it. Just moments ago, when she’d smirked, he’d wanted to kiss her and hold her in an embrace that was seven years in the making.

  That was definitely a problem. He faced his reflection in the mirror, spotting flecks of Brian’s blood on his face.

  He still remembered the day her parents had died in the horrible car accident. Within weeks, both her and her brother had been taken to another school district, to live with her grandmother. She’d stayed off social media, but he’d still been able to track her when she became her brother’s guardian. And as other kids were going off to college, she had opened a bakery and began bailing her brother out of trouble on a regular basis.

  For months after she’d moved, he’d tried to contact her, but she’d not returned his calls. Not once had she tried to stay in touch with him.

  Dom saw his grin widen in the mirror and shook his head. Here he was with his old best friend, and among the swirling emotions was pure and simple lust. Damn, but some teenage fantasies never faded… He splashed water on his face, cleaning up and hoping to cool his thoughts.

  Back then, there had been drama in the Coscanos household as well, with one of his brothers almost locked up and his youngest sister getting pregnant. His own problems had seemed too personal in the midst of all the shuffling family issues. One day, in frustration, he skipped class to ride his motorcycle over to Virginia’s grandmother’s house. He needed to talk to her as much as he needed to give his condolences.

  At first, for a brief moment, she’d looked so happy to see him, but then, she put up a wall of aloofness between them. Almost without emotion, she’d explained that she had to be her brother’s keeper, and that her grandmother needed help too. She was going to school but also working two part-time jobs. It was obvious she’d given the speech a lot of thought, and it all boiled down to letting him know she was cutting him out of her life, severing the past to tackle a new future.

  “I understand, but maybe I can help with something, you know. Take you to the movies once in a while to get your mind off things—”

  “I have no room in my life for movies, Dom.”

  “You’re grieving, Gin. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

  “I’m not. I’ve got my brother.”

  “What about friends?”

  “Don’t make it difficult, Dom. I don’t want friends. I don’t want romance. I just want to get on with my life. I’m sorry, what you want is complicated, and I really need to simplify. So this is goodbye.”

  No argument worked. Finally, anger and betrayal had goaded him back on his motorcycle. Pride kept him from glancing back at her.

  He’d missed her for a long time afterward.

  “Get a grip,” he grumbled to himself. They had been different people then, and they were certainly different people now. But would she be open to a relationship now? Hope sprung ever-fucking eternally.

  Straightening his shoulders, he opened the bathroom door and headed back, stepping quietly back into the kitchen to watch as she put the final touches on the dinner.

  Understandably, in seven years, the quiet, shy girl had become a woman with serious, wary eyes and a familiar smile. She was certainly not rail thin any more, and there was nothing wrong with how the curves had bloomed and settled on her frame either. She used to straighten her hair, but now wore it in long thin braids that complimented her oval face. The rich, dark tone of her skin always had an enticing glow to it, as if she spent much of her time peering into hot ovens and bustling around her bakery.

  She peered into the oven now, her loose braids swaying slightly, and her faded blue jeans and festive sweater making her look like she was no more than eighteen. But it was the way her apron stretched over her breasts where it read, “Santa gets his goodies at Luscious Cupcakes Bakery” that kept getting his attention.

  He wondered if she realized what the writing said any more.

  Mmm-mm, Santa’s goodies indeed!

  “So, how have you been doing all these years, Gin?”

  There it was, that low rumble of his voice that even as a teen, sent delicious shivers up her spine, making her want to hear it up-close, within kissing distance. Maybe near her ear. Maybe against her skin.

  “Fine.” She flashed a smile and closed the oven door with more strength than she’d intended. “You?”

  “Pretty good.” From where he was leaning against the counter, Dom’s stomach made a rumbling sound that surprised her and caused her to chuckle.

  “Just a few minutes more. Dinner is almost ready and there’s plenty of it. Do you mind grabbing some paper towels and bringing the wine?”

  “Sure thing. I appreciate you sharing your meal with me,” he said solemnly.

  “Of course.” She tugged off the oven mitts. “Merry Christmas!”

  For a moment, they stood watching each other in an awkward pause, then he suddenly walked over to her small table and pulled a chair out for her.

  As he stood there, waiting for her to sit at the table, the fireplace behind him, outlining him in a most inviting way… she couldn’t help but think that he looked like he had been posing for a naughty calendar shoot… a sexy man who was done being nice, playing a jolly Santa, and wanted nothing more than to invite a woman to bring out the naughtier part of him.

  “Gin?”

  “Oh, yes.” She hurried over and sat at the seat he held out for her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He sat across the table from her.

  She smiled, hoping it wasn’t as stiff as it felt and gestured to the food. “Help yourself.”

  A flicker of something heated flashed in his eyes before he turned his attention carefully to the roast beef. “Looks delicious.”

  For the next few minutes, they served themselves in relative silence. The music blended with the snap and crackle of the fireplace and the clinking of utensils against the dishes.

  “Man, that’s good,” he said after taking a bite. “Wish I could cook like this.”

  Some of the tension eased from her shoulders. “It’s easy enough, really. I found the recipe in one of my mom’s boxes.” Hell, why had she mentioned her mother?

  He sipped the red wine, his eyes watching her closely. “Must be a tough time of year for you.”

  “No more than usual.” She speared a carrot, casually waving it in a dismissive manner. “So, you were playing Santa at the hospital?”

  He grinned slowly, acknowledging the change of subject with a nod. “It’s for a good cause. The beard is obviously very fake … and itchy… but the kids don’t care. They love the Mexican and Italian Christmas carols and the gifts we bring. It’s sad, but for some of them, this may be their last Christmas. They just want joy… and a break from being sick.”

  She quickly glanced down at her plate, embarrassed that her brother’s convoluted plot had involved a children’s hospital on Christmas Eve. Obviously Dom understood the worth of good will. “The Santa gig is a noble thing.”

  His gaze met hers. “Well, it’s really not about being noble. I just want to be there when they need me, even if they are at their worst. Even if they think they’d rather be alone.”

  She
focused on slicing her meat into a perfect square.

  “I know it’s water under the bridge, Gin, but I regret that I wasn’t there for you all those years ago. I should never have let you push me away.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t need anyone. I just needed to move on. There was lots to be done and I had to be the one to do it. “She shrugged. “No time for silly teenager stuff.”

  The tines of his fork sank into a mushroom, pinning it to the plate. “There was nothing silly about our friendship. You knew how I felt about you. I knew how you felt about me. But you seemed lost in grief and–”

  “Like I said, that’s in the past, Dom. Water under the bridge.” She took a sip of wine, letting him see in her eyes that she wanted the subject closed.

  He held her gaze for several stubborn seconds.

  “It is fortuitous that we ended up meeting again, huh?” He toasted her by raising his wineglass. “Here’s to renewing out friendship.”

  For a moment, she hesitated with her wineglass half way to her lips. “Um, okay—”

  “Relax, I’m still the same old me,” his smile was just as carefree as when he’d been a teen. “How about you start by telling me about your luscious cupcakes, and I’ll bore you to sleep with details about my accounting business.”

  The conversation unfolded easily after that. Amazingly, he made taxes sound interesting, and with his easy smile she found herself talking about the bakery, of how she loved to wake up early and start the dough, to open the doors to the street so the aroma baking would lure in clientele. She talked about the restaurants she supplied baked goods to, some of her quirky clients, and the satisfaction of knowing she was doing what she loved.

  Feeling more at ease, she could see that his mannerisms were still the same. His Mexican-Italian heritage had blessed him with some seriously good looks. He gestured with his hands whenever he talked of something that excited him. There was a small dimple on the left side of his face that appeared only when he grinned. Despite her best efforts, it was a bit mesmerizing when it appeared. Obviously, time had changed him too. He seemed longer more than taller, as if his presence doubled, instead of simply gaining more height.

  And his voice… oh, that voice.

  They talked about music and movies, surprising each other by realizing they were still fans of the same football teams as in their youth. It felt like she was drinking him in, having a taste of the past but in a newer, refreshing way. It was certainly not the Christmas Eve she was expecting, but yet, it was going so well, she felt like a kid, staying awake to be part of the magic of the holiday.

  Before she realized it, they had finished second helpings, almost emptied the bottle of wine, and were chatting easily.

  “What?” she asked when his gaze locked with hers for a little too long.

  His shoulders shifted in a light shrug, his smile still lingering. “This takes me back. We used to laugh like this when we hung out together, remember?”

  She paused. “Yeah.”

  “I’ve missed this.”

  A soft, familiar loneliness tugged at her heart and she broke eye contact to start stacking the dirty dishes. “Yeah, well… that might just be the wine talking.”

  “It’s not.”

  She glanced at him, but couldn’t hold his gaze, so instead she carried the dishes to the sink. When she peered at him, he was scratching his chest in apparent discomfort.

  Caught red-handed, he smiled sheepishly. “I’m dying to take this itchy jacket off.”

  “Go for it. You can take a shower, if you like—” She paused. “I mean, if you want to. I’m not implying that you shouldn’t undress, because you can if you want to. I mean, you don’t smell or anything…” Mortified with her ramblings, she momentarily closed her eyes. “Never mind.”

  When she opened them, he flashed a grin and wiggled his eyebrows, his voice ever so suave. “So what you’re really saying is that you’d like me to strip off my Santa swag to the tune of these Christmas carols, is that right?”

  She almost dropped the plate she was holding before remembering that he’d tease her in the same way as a teen.

  “Say the word, babe, and I’ll shake my moneymaker for you all night long,” he continued. It was his salacious wink and chuckle that gave him away. “Watch out, Imma throw you some rhythm. Old-style holiday rap.”

  “Psht! Stop right there.”

  He cleared his throat, clearly ignoring her. “No pole, no sleigh. Just a personal ho-ho-holiday. Ch-cheer. Right here. Check out my Santa pants. Comes off when I lap dance. There’s more to be had. Feliz Navidad. Not worries about the snow. Stay tuned for the show!”

  Virginia couldn’t hold back the burst of laughter. “Good thing you’re a great accountant because rapping is not your calling.”

  He laughed too. “Ok, but all joking aside, I sure could use a shower. I’ll give you free tax services for a decade if you let me wash this itch away. I’ll behave. Scout’s honor.”

  “You were never a scout.”

  “Wasn’t I?”

  She frowned, realizing she didn’t really know.

  “Okay, so I wasn’t. But if I stay in this itchy suit, I’ll definitely break out in a rash.”

  She turned her back to him and placed the dish safely in the sink, smiling to herself. “Fine. Go ahead. I’ll get you a fresh towel.”

  He sang in the shower, and it was not any Italian piece that she recognized. It was probably a Mexican opera, since his mother loved to play that music. And he was in there. Buck. Naked. Showering.

  And here she was, with a towel in her hands, just outside the bathroom door, waiting.

  A completely wild and lusty thought bloomed in her mind and she couldn’t let it go. What if… what if she didn’t let this opportunity slide by? What if they could bridge the gap of seven years, back to the friendship they’d once had, to the attraction that still flared between them?

  The singing temporarily paused for what she assumed was because he was washing his face in the spray of the shower.

  What if she made the first move? This could be it! But did she dare? Was she brave enough to chance it? Hell, she still had those three condoms she’d bought on impulse back in July, back when she’d planned go to a bar to find a lover for a carefree, one-night stand. That hadn’t happened. Sure, she’d always had feelings for him, but this was no different, right?

  Heavens, was she crazy?! She’d just met him again after a seven-year gap. What if having sex with her hadn’t even crossed his mind? What if he was engaged to someone? Or he couldn’t because of some hideous penis affliction?

  The bathroom door opened a crack and she almost jumped out of her skin. A partial view of Dom’s face, chest and hip was visible, glistening in the dim light while a puff of steamy air moved past him and kissed her face. She couldn’t look away from a drop of water that moved down his jaw, trailed over the angled muscles of his neck and –

  “Gin?”

  She swallowed, her gaze snapping back at his. With a pressed smile, she held the towel out.

  “Thank you.” His eyes gleamed, seeming to read so much more than she wanted him to. As soon as he took the towel, she turned on her heel and went back to the bedroom. Clothes. What the man needed was clothes, and soon.

  In the top section of the bedroom closet her brother kept some clothes, most of which would probably not fit Dom. But if she remembered correctly, Brian had some big baggy pajamas that he’d complained about but hadn’t thrown out. Maybe those would do for now.

  “Hey, Gin?”

  “In here. Just getting you some pajamas.”

  She sensed the minute he entered the room, her pulse racing when she turned to watch him approaching, towel wrapped around his hips. She tugged hard at the pajamas in her grasp, realizing too late that the small pile of clothes that sat on it was tipping over her head.

  Somehow, he got there a half second too late, but with enough time to put his arm out to deflect more clothes from bouncing off her head. />
  “Damn,” she mumbled, looking directly at his chin, mere inches away.

  Time stretched as the seconds piled up. His lips formed a faint smile. “Did you say Damn or Dom?”

  “Damn.”

  “Remember the last time we made out?”

  She stiffened. “Dom, don’t bring that up.”

  “We were in a closet at Martha Sandoval’s birthday party. Shoved in there for a full minute by our so-called friends.”

  “Yes, yes, yes. Spin the Bottle or something stupid like that. Your point?”

  His gaze touched her face, intently, stealing her breath with each passing second. “It ended too soon.”

  She’d been embarrassed and nervous. “This is ridiculous! Let’s just pretend and get out of here.”

  For a very long second, they just watched each other.

  “You ready?” he finally asked.

  “Ready?”

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  She paused to think about it. “That’s been long enough. Sure.”

  She had been expecting him to lead the way out but instead, he cupped her face and placed a tender kiss on her lips, teasing and tasting as if he was drinking.

  Stunned, she’d parted her mouth, and taking advantage, he angled their mouths and made it a real kiss.

  She’d been spellbound, smitten, living a dream. Every time their lips parted, she whispered his name.

  The loud bang of someone’s fist against the closet door jarred them back to reality.

  Realizing what she’d done, she’d stormed out of the closet before she could be dragged out by her friends.

  The memory brought a blush of embarrassment mixed with anger. “Your pajamas are somewhere on the floor.”

  “Thanks, “he drawled, his other hand coming up so that he each hand braced on either side of the wall by her face. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, almost touching it. “So, you ready?”

  A fissure of desire unraveled deep inside her when he his large hand came up to cup her cheek, shifting down to the pulse at her throat, angling her face just slightly toward his to that their eyes locked. “Yes or no, darling.”