Red-Hot Santa. Tori Carrington

of a chair.

      “Long story short, Cleo is Gram’s. She’s just visiting while Gram takes a vacation.”

      “Vacation?”

      He grimaced. “Yeah. She went on a cruise and won’t be back until next week.” He walked toward the back and switched on another light to what looked like the kitchen.

      “I’m surprised she didn’t leave her in the barn.”

      “Yeah, well, Cleo isn’t a barn cat, exactly …” He adjusted what appeared to be a thermostat on the wall. “The heat shouldn’t take but a minute.”

      “I’m fine. I’ve been through worse.”

      He looked at her. “Yeah. We both have, I think. Easy to forget that sometimes.”

      He disappeared into the other room. Max stared at Cleo who stared back, at least until she heard the sound of food hitting a bowl. Then she was off like a shot, skidding to a stop on the kitchen tile.

      Max unzipped her leather jacket and looked around the place. Hell, it was neater than hers. And while the black, contemporary furnishings may have come with the place, the small touches did not. There were books in the case, a plant on the floor and photos in frames on the shelves. She stepped nearer, easily recognizing Jax’s grandmother and brother Jason in the pictures. And then she spied one of herself …

      Her heart skipped a beat as she picked up the simple four-by-six-inch frame of a photo shot taken about five years ago while they were serving together. They were both in desert fatigues and Jax had draped his arm casually over her shoulders.

      There was nothing casual, however, about the way she smiled at him.

      She squinted at her expression. How was it possible he never knew?

      Then it occurred to her he had known. He just hadn’t returned her feelings.

      “Long time ago, huh?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.

      “Huh?” She awkwardly put the frame back down. “Um, yeah. A different lifetime, it seems.”

      He ran his hand over his hair. “Yeah.”

      She stared into his face, wondering if she was just being stupid or if she’d been made that way. She started to ask if he was ready, when she noticed he’d taken off his coat, most likely leaving it in the kitchen.

      “Maxi?”

      “Huh?”

      Jax grinned at her. “That’s what Chuck called you back at the bar.”

      “Oh. Yeah.” Was it her, or was it suddenly warmer in here?

      “I’m surprised it didn’t rate at least one of your famous sneers. It would have in the past.”

      She laughed, remembering all the names she’d been called in elementary school, Maxi Pad being by far the worst. She doubted she had to remind him of that, since he’d fought right alongside her a couple of times.

      “That was until I was arrested for assault.”

      He lifted a brow.

      “Joking. I’m joking.” She shifted on her feet, noticing the way he looked at the front of her jacket as if trying to see what lay underneath. “People seem to prefer to call me Maxi … so I let them.”

      He didn’t say anything for a long moment and then he cleared his throat. “It suits you.”

      “Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean you get to call me that. I’m still Max to you. Try calling me anything else and you’ll earn more than a sneer.”

      They both laughed, but as soon as the moment passed, she became all too aware that they were alone. Together. In his apartment. After midnight.

      Her heart beat an irregular rhythm in her chest and she swore she could actually hear her blood rushing through her veins like water through a pipe. How dumb she’d been to think a tight pair of jeans and push-up bra would be enough to get his attention when nearly twenty years of clothing changes had not.

      She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “I guess we’d better get going …”

      Jax met her gaze solidly and didn’t say anything for a long moment. She shoved her hands deeper into her jacket pockets and burrowed into the black leather.

      “Listen, why don’t you spend the night …” he said, his voice trailing.

      She looked around nervously. There was only the one bedroom that she could see.

      “The couch is a queen sleeper.”

      She turned back toward him.

      “I know I told you I’d take you, and if you insist, of course, I will. But now that we’re here and warm …”

      Warm …

      No, she was hot. Sweltering hot. And her state had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

      “Here,” he said. “Let me take your coat.”

      He reached to presumably help her take it off. She automatically started to shrug off the attention, then instead took a deep breath, turned and allowed him to help her.

      Was it her, or did his fingers linger just that much longer at the nape of her neck? Skim down her arms when no contact was needed?

      She swallowed thickly and swiveled back to face him, every inch of her yearning to feel him touch her more purposefully, more meaningfully, starting with a kiss …

      “Max?”

      Her name was little more than a whisper. Her gaze fell to his mouth, a mouth she’d seen a million times before, but had never so badly wanted to feel it against hers.

      She was sure if he didn’t kiss her right then and there she’d self-combust, leaving only the tiny particles that would scatter in the stiff winter breeze, leaving no hint she’d ever existed.

      What scared her even more was that she was afraid the same might happen if he did kiss her …

      4

      JACKSON SWORE HE could still feel her hot bottom on his lap.

      He grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, no longer wearing the Santa pants to hide the telltale signs of arousal. Her wiggling against him had left him far more turned on than he would ever have expected back at the bar. He wasn’t sure he’d completely recovered from the moment.

      Who was he kidding? The only thing responsible for his mental meanderings now was the sexy woman standing in front of him. Someone who had once been very familiar, but now seemed more like a stranger.

      It didn’t make any sense. Max had always been … well, Max. What in the hell had happened to her in the past two years to turn her into this tantalizing parcel of hotness?

      One minute he’d been counting off the seconds when his brief stint as Barracks’ Santa would end and … the next, she’d stepped in front of him, hands on her curvy hips, and time had ground to a halt.

      He’d had at least twenty women sit on his lap before her, not all of them innocently (Genie had wriggled so suggestively she’d nearly injured him). But the idea of letting Max climb on board had left him so tongue-tied, he’d barely been able to speak.

      And now he’d just suggested she spend the night …

      If he knew what was good for him, he’d grab his coat and drive her sweet bottom to her aunt’s place. Now.

      But at that moment he didn’t care much about what was good for him. He was too focused on what he wanted. And right now, he wanted her …

      She licked her full lips in the same way that had driven him to distraction earlier. He nearly groaned at sight of her pink tongue dipping out between her straight, smooth teeth, her actions causing the plump flesh to glisten.