Merry and Bright(64)

The after part had been a little rough, she could admit now—the coming-home-alone part. Matt had wanted her to go to his place, but she’d been unable to fathom repeating the whole mind-blowing experience and then walking away.

Once had been hard enough.

When her snooze alarm went off again, she got up and dressed. Christmas Eve. Most people wouldn’t be going into work, but she was going to. Dedication at its finest, she supposed.

And a telling way to hold at bay the memories from last night. Or the loneliness she knew would hit her any minute now. The Christmas loneliness. She could try to forget, she could try to pretend it didn’t exist, but it always came.

She entered her office and stopped short at the sight of her desk. The scene of her indiscretion, so to speak. Her momentary lapse in good judgment. Last night, she’d straightened it all up, she’d had to, but she didn’t need to see all her things on the floor to remember what Matt had done to her there.

Pulling out her chair, she sat down and tried not to look at the blotter, which now contained an imprint of her butt. She dug into work, feeling very mature for doing so, but by mid-afternoon, she gave up. She had to get out, or lose her mind, so she headed downtown, where she wandered the long row of art galleries and unique gift shops to find her last-minute family Christmas gifts. Determined to be chipper and in the spirit, she hit them all.

And found nothing for her picky parents or impossible-to-buy-for brother and sister.

All around her, the trees and streets were lit with seasonal lights. Each storefront had been decorated, and Christmas music and delicious scents surrounded her. So did people. Everywhere. Couples, families, friends . . . everyone talking and laughing and having a ball, all in the holiday spirit.

No one seemed to be alone.

Except her.

She ended up back at her car, arms empty. Damn it. Determined, she sat there waiting for the defroster to work, wracking her brain. Finally it came to her. Ski-lift tickets. Her parents would love the excuse to dust off their skis, and her siblings would think the present original and cool. Cami let out her first smile of the day, because she just might have hit upon the perfect gift and the perfect way to impress her impossible-to-impress family on Christmas morning.

Congratulating herself, she drove the seven miles out of town to Eagle Ski Resort. There she purchased the tickets, and had just put them in her purse when someone said in her ear, “Well, look at that. You tore yourself from work.”

The last time she’d heard that voice, he’d been standing between her sprawled thighs whispering wicked-sexy-nothings to her. Turning, she faced one Matt Tarino, dressed in black board pants and jacket, wearing a Santa hat and aviator reflector sunglasses, and holding his snowboard. He should have looked ridiculous. Instead, he looked fun-loving and carefree, not to mention incredibly sure of himself, and sexy as hell for it. Belatedly, she remembered his brother owned this place, so of course he’d be here. Or, maybe not so belatedly. Maybe she’d known—hoped—to see him. Disconcerting thought. As she stood there staring at him, wondering at the odd ping in her belly—and between her thighs—two women skied by and sprayed Matt with powder from their skis, laughing uproariously, flirting with their smiles and eyes.

Cami dusted herself off, surreptiously watching Matt as he waved back, turning down their offer to join them. Instead, he moved closer to Cami and brushed some powdery snow from her cheek. “So. What brings you here?”

Now that they’d had raw, wild, animal sex on her desk, he made her feel even more off balance than usual, and she was painfully hyperaware of his every move. Even her nipples were hard. It was ridiculous, and to counteract the phenomenon, she stopped looking at him. “I came by to purchase some lift tickets for my family for their Christmas gifts.”

“Nice gifts.”

Let’s hope they think so.

“Enjoying your Christmas Eve?”

“Sure.” Less than she would a cruise to the Bahamas, but more than, say, a root canal.

Matt shoved up his sunglasses to the front of his Santa hat. “You’re looking pretty uptight for someone who’s enjoying herself. Come join me for a few runs before the slopes close.”

She looked down at her long maroon skirt and sweater. “I couldn’t.”

“What’s your preference, skis or board?”

“Skis, but I’d planned on going back to the office to finish going through those computers—”

“I’ll help you after.”

“But I don’t—”

He tugged her close. She stared resolutely at his chest.

“Was last night so awful, you can’t even look me in the eyes?” he asked quietly.

Surprised, she lifted her head. “No. No,” she said again into his rueful and, damn it, hurt gaze. “It was . . . well, you know what it was. It was incredible.”

His eyes smoldered. “So let me show you another good time. On the slopes.”

She looked at him for a long moment, because she knew herself. She was falling, and falling for a man—especially him, the one man to make her feel things, the one man to get inside her and care about her—was dangerous. It gave him all the power he needed to hurt her. Scary, scary stuff.

On the other hand, it was only a few runs on a ski hill, something that was shockingly tempting . . . “Maybe for a little while.”