The Nights Before Christmas. Vicki Lewis Thompson

that daring. Besides, he wouldn’t be expecting something like that, and he’d probably sit up suddenly and bean himself on the water pipe.

      But she could imagine doing it, and that was enough to get her juices flowing. His jeans were old and the denim looked soft. As he shifted his weight again, the material tightened over his crotch and she gained an excellent idea of exactly what lay behind that button fly.

      Greg looked like such a bad boy, and now that Terri had confided in her, Suzanne knew that he was absolutely as bad as all that. Even if she had the courage to come on to him, which she didn’t, she wouldn’t know what to do with such powerful badness.

      But Terri had said that he was understanding and very romantic. In that case, she wouldn’t have to know everything. He would know everything, just like the men in the novels she loved.

      Yet if she managed to start an affair with Greg, who had become a legend in her apartment building, and she still turned out to be an anal-retentive ice queen, what then? She’d probably never date again. She’d channel all her energies into her career, become the best financial analyst in Chicago, make piles of money and live alone in some opulent penthouse with her twenty-nine cats. Rich but pathetic.

      If there was the slightest chance she’d blow it with Greg, she’d be far better off blundering along as she’d been doing. The situation reminded her of when she’d had a funky Honda Civic with lots of miles on it. She’d loved that car, but one day it wouldn’t go. A boisterous jock from high school, somebody much like Jared, had talked her into letting him give her a jump. He must have done something wrong, because he’d burned out the electrical system.

      Getting involved with Greg was a jump start that might blow out her entire electrical system, and she’d have to be towed in, just like that Honda. She was already feeling road-weary after two nights at the gym with Terri. In her present condition she probably wouldn’t be able to have sex without pulling a muscle, anyway.

      So why, with all those considerations, was she staring at Greg’s crotch and getting damp and achy? She liked the shape of his legs, too—long and lean. He wore scuffed running shoes that were some off-brand she didn’t recognize, and no socks. His lack of pretense was very appealing, especially after she’d spent so much time with Jared, who was terminally fashion-conscious.

      Sex with Greg would mean stripping the act down to its primary motivation—one man, one woman, pure lust. She could guess from Greg’s manner of dress and his general attitude that he wouldn’t care what brand of mineral water she had in the fridge or whether her sheets had a Calvin Klein label.

      She didn’t know how she’d fare in the pure-lust department. In her experience, sex had always been more complicated than that. But watching Greg twist his body as he wrestled with the pipe fitting, listening to his grunt of satisfaction when he wrenched the piece free, she certainly felt as if pure lust was a possibility.

      As he started to emerge from under the sink, she backed out of the doorway to give him room to maneuver. Here she was, standing conveniently in the bedroom. But even if she chose to start something, she’d have no idea what to say first.

      I’ve heard good things about you, Greg. That sounded way too fake, like bad cocktail-party chatter.

      I’m between boyfriends right now, Greg. Oh, that was classy. She’d appear to have a spare ten minutes where she could work him in.

      I could use a friend, Greg. Better, but not true. She had friends. What she needed was a lover, a lover who would heal her bruised sexual ego.

      He emerged from the bathroom holding the rusted pipe wrapped in a rag he must have taken from his toolbox. “Can I leave my tools here for now?”

      “Sure.” Now was the time to tell him he didn’t have to rush the job. He could put the pipe down and find something else to do with his hands. She should have asked Terri how she’d handled this awkward moment.

      “Okay. Thanks.” He walked past her and out of the bedroom. He was definitely getting away. “Lock up after I leave, though,” he said over his shoulder. “This neighborhood’s pretty safe, but there’s no need to take chances.”

      Whatever she needed to say to make him turn around wouldn’t come out of her mouth. “Right.”

      “See you in about ten minutes.”

      “Okeydokey.” Ten minutes. Time enough to call Terri and get some advice.

      The door closed behind him. She walked over and locked it as he’d suggested. He didn’t know that she was very good about locking up. Just ask Jared, who had been caught in the hall without a key.

      That doggone Jared—he’d known she was going to the store. She seemed to remember having told him to take a key when he’d left for his run, but maybe she hadn’t. She might have assumed he’d take a key to be on the safe side.

      Suzanne was always on the safe side. This whole business with Greg didn’t feel at all safe. She dialed Terri’s number and tapped her foot while waiting for the no-solicitation message to finish. Finally Terri picked up.

      “It’s Suzanne,” she said. “Greg is here fixing my sink.”

      “Congratulations!”

      “It really was leaking, Terri.”

      “Sure, sure.” Terri laughed. “Whatever you say, girl. Enjoy.”

      “He left to get a replacement part, and he’s coming back. Nothing’s happened yet, and I was wondering how you got from the handyman job to…more personal stuff.”

      “Um, well…I said something about how I didn’t understand guys at all, I think. He asked me to elaborate, and we…took it from there.”

      “That was a good line.” Suzanne couldn’t imagine coming up with a better one, but she could hardly use Terri’s.

      “He’s very sweet,” Terri said. “Don’t angst over this. Just start talking to the guy.”

      Anxiety caused her ears to buzz. “You know what? I’m not doing this. I’m not cut out for it.”

      “That’s what you said about the gym, and look at you now.”

      “Exactly! I’m sore in places I didn’t even know I had places. If you’re telling me that getting involved with Greg is like signing up for the gym, then I’m definitely not doing it.”

      Terri laughed again. “You’re such a crybaby. Greg won’t be anything like the gym. He’s—”

      The doorbell rang and her chest tightened. “He’s back. Bye, Terri.”

      “Go for it, Suzanne!”

      She wasn’t going to follow Terri’s advice, she decided as she went to answer the door. The sound of Greg ringing the doorbell had nearly made her faint. She didn’t have the chutzpah to carry this off, and that was that.

      3

      GREG HAD THOUGHT SUZANNE might change clothes while he was downstairs, but nope, she wore the same serious businesswoman outfit as before. The velvet bow was still in her hair, too, and the tidy pumps remained on her feet. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t kicked them off by now.

      There was absolutely nothing in her behavior to suggest she wanted to become more friendly with him. He was almost convinced that she had no interest in talking about her personal life. So then why had she asked his last name?

      “Luckily I found what I needed,” he said, holding up a section of pipe.

      “Great.” She smiled and stood back so he could come in.

      That smile was still full of nerves, he thought. Terri had said something to her—he was sure of it. Apparently Suzanne didn’t know quite what to do with the information.

      “This shouldn’t take long,” he said as he walked through the white living room with its touching little Christmas tree