Red-Hot Santa. Tori Carrington

was usually the point—where the spark of arousal promised to blaze into much more—when she would withdraw, physically and emotionally, putting much needed distance between them.

      But this time …

      She merely sat, holding his gaze, allowing the sizzling current to bond them in a way she never had before.

      “So …” he said so quietly she nearly didn’t hear him, his hands hot on her hips.

      She watched his pupils dilate in his blue eyes and the way his gaze seemed drawn to her mouth.

      “What do you, um, want …?”

      What would happen if she told him? If she said she wanted to be sitting on his lap, with no clothes between them? To feel his hard length inside her rather than pressing against her? To see if his mouth tasted as good as it looked?

      To know if the longing she’d felt for him for so long was purely physical … or if it was much much more.

      A flashbulb went off.

      For a minute, Max thought it might be something of her own conjuring, but when she followed Jackson’s stare to the bar bunny waitress who’d just taken their picture, she knew it wasn’t.

      She’d come home to Colorado to find the truth.

      She’d either finally pursue her unspoken feelings for Jackson, or squash them altogether. It was time for her to move on, one way or the other. Still, she just wasn’t prepared to do that in front of God and everyone.

      She also wasn’t prepared for what she felt for her to burgeon even further, nearly overwhelming her, blotting out all else until a camera flash snapped her back to reality.

      Had she really nearly kissed him in the middle of a bar while everyone watched?

      Yes, she realized, she had.

      She moved to get to her feet. Jackson helped her, standing up, as well. She noticed the way he plucked at his suit even as she smoothed her damp palms over her jeans.

      “Okay, everyone, that’s all for now. Santa’s got work to do,” he said.

      And so did she, Max silently noted.

      Because if he’d given away what he had in that one moment, she could only imagine what she had.

      Then again, isn’t that what she wanted? For him to see how she truly felt?

      Yes. It was.

      But suddenly the prospect scared her more than anything she’d ever encountered … up to and including her stint in the military.

      Whatever had she left herself open for?

      3

      MAXINE PRIDED HERSELF on holding her own with the guys when it came to drinking. So she was really surprised that by the time the bar closed, she was feeling a little woozy. She couldn’t remember having all that much to drink, but the way she was feeling told her that maybe she’d had one too many.

      The girls had left a little earlier, smiling at her in a way that seemed to suggest they knew what was going to happen. Of course, that put them ahead of the game, because she wasn’t all too sure what to expect, herself.

      She caught sight of Jax moving in her direction and straightened in her chair. This so wasn’t how she’d planned to feel during their first stretch of time alone together.

      He, on the other hand, looked as actively hot as he had earlier in the evening. It was more than his thick shock of dark blond hair that always appeared in need of a comb, and his warm blue eyes that always made her think of summer skies and how much she craved the heat. He looked as if he was ready for anything and everything … especially a long, thorough roll in the hay.

      Of course, his brief role playing Santa to all the girls in the place, including her and her friends, had left her feeling more than a little hot and bothered. She’d been so tongue-tied, she hadn’t been able to tell him what she really wanted.

      “You ready?” he asked.

      It took her a moment to realize he was talking about the ride he was giving her to her aunt’s house. Not her secret Santa wish. Damn.

      “Oh. Yes.” She smiled.

      As he got their coats from behind the bar, she was aware of the bar owner’s attention on them.

      “Good night,” she called.

      “Good night, Maxi. Nice to see you again. Will you be back here tomorrow night?”

      She waved noncommittally and led the way out.

      The early morning air was still and cold. She couldn’t remember a time she’d experienced such quiet. Perhaps because it contrasted so greatly with the riotous emotions roiling inside of her.

      Her brief contact with Jax earlier, when she’d realized he wanted her—at least physically—left her breathless … and more than a little scared.

      It was one thing to mentally decide on a course of action; quite another, indeed, to actually embark on it.

      She started toward where his truck was parked in the lot but found he wasn’t behind her.

      “I need to see to Cleo first,” he said.

      She stopped dead in her tracks. Cleo?

      He grinned at her. “I rent the place above the bar.”

      “I don’t understand. This is where you live?”

      “Most nights. When I have a day off, I go out to Gram’s, but this …” He gestured toward the wooden stairs leading up to a second story door. “This is my home away from home.”

      She followed him up. “And Cleo?”

      “You’re going to love her.”

      Max winced. She was sure whoever Cleo was, she was not going to love her. She’d hated everyone Jax had dated before. What would make this one any different? Especially since she appeared to live with him.

      Double damn.

      “Why did you agree to take me home if you weren’t going that way?” she asked, trying to figure out what her options were. Truly, she’d preferred not to be stuck in a truck with him for a half hour if his heart already belonged to someone else.

      “I haven’t seen you in two years. Did you really expect me to say no?” He took keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “Besides, it’s no big deal. I’ll just crash at Gram’s tonight.”

      A soft breeze brought the tang of his aftershave to her nose. She took a deep breath; she’d always loved the way he smelled.

      He held out a hand to stay her. “You may want to step back for a minute while Cleo greets me.”

      Great. She was going to have to watch another woman throw herself into his arms.

      He squared his stance and then opened the door. Max watched a female throw herself into his arms, all right. Or, rather, climb up into them.

      She laughed as a black feline, more kitten than cat, climbed Jax like a tree, not stopping until she was safe in his arms and nudging her chin against his.

      “Cleo,” Jax said, “I want you to meet Max. Max …” He turned and smiled at her even as he scratched the cat behind the ears. “This is Cleo.”

      Max leaned forward, wondering if her relief was obvious, but not really caring. She was just happy Cleo wasn’t a six foot blonde with model good looks she’d have to add to the top of her Most Hated list.

      “Hey, Cleo,” she said softly, holding her hand palm down so the cat could take a whiff of her. Then just as sweet as you please, Cleo rubbed up against the digits, her rumbling purr audible. Max ran her hand along her soft, warm fur.

      “I would never have figured you for a cat person.”