Santa Wore Leathers

VONNIE DAVIS

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HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers

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www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013

Copyright © Vonnie Davis 2013

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Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2013

Cover design by HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd

Vonnie Davis asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

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and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Ebook Edition © November 2015 ISBN: 9780007555314

Version 2015-11-26

Praise for Vonnie Davis

'This is the first book I’ve read by Vonnie Davis and I can assure you it won’t be the last'

Harlequin Junkie

'A fun and frivolous festive romance'

Book Chick City

'A lovely, sweet, funny, sexy story. Perfect holiday read.'

Sizzling Pages Romance Reviews

'A sexy, feel good romance'

Jane Hunt Writer Reviews

'Ms. Davis has a way with the pen and I look forward to reading WAY more books from her!'

More Books Please

'A mega entertaining, sexy romance!'

Reading Between the Wines Book Club

To my awesome critique partners, AJ Nuest and Rachel Brimble, fabulous authors who point out when I’ve used the same phrase three times on the same page and remind me a participle looks nasty when it dangles. Thanks for your patience, my darlings.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Vonnie Davis

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Bonus Material

CHAPTER 1

Also by Vonnie Davis …

Vonnie Davis

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

My new neighbor is a man-whore.

Becca Sinclair peered through the window of her townhouse, her fingertips flying over the keyboard. This new post on her “The Things Men Do” blog would definitely entertain her twelve hundred followers. Comments would amass and maybe, if she were lucky, she’d increase her audience.

Marshall, her editor at the Clearwater Daily, had dangled the incentive of giving her a weekly column, but only if she secured fifteen hundred followers. The poor schmuck had no idea how determined she was. Or how much women loved reading her comical, often snarky, take on the male gender.

With her desk positioned in front of the bay window in her living room, she had a great view of the goings-on in her neighborhood. This secluded vantage point had birthed many well-read posts. She raised her tiny espresso cup to her lips, inhaled its strong aroma as she sipped and read over her first paragraph on the screen.

About an hour ago, a brunette showed up at his front door carrying a box of Krispy Kremes. Just now, a blonde parked her red car behind the silver compact of woman number one. Before woman number two’s stilettos hit the pavement, shirtless man-whore jogged out of his townhouse to greet her, no doubt in an attempt to head her off at the pass. Pardon the cliché, sistahs, but men ARE so clichéd, are they not?

Becca’s gaze swept from her monitor to her neighbor and the blonde talking on the sidewalk. Man-whore must lift weights in his sleep to get a build like that. How hard would his muscles feel if she ran her hands over them? Dismissing her thought with an eye roll, she allowed her perusal to continue. Like most Floridians, he had a deep tan which, when combined with his sculptured muscles, presented a very potent male package. If she were one to notice, which she was not.

His hair was dark and straight, brushing his shoulders. When he turned, revealing his chest, there was a very nice treasure trail leading to jeans riding low on his hips. The two people moved and Becca began typing again.

The blonde gushed as she handed him a foil-covered pan. My randy neighbor peeled back the cover, swiped a finger over whatever she’d made and stuck his digit in his mouth. With the pan tucked to his muscled chest like a football, he deigned to give her a hug before she drove off.

By the time he turned and walked to his front door, he’d eaten two pastries. Evidently he’s a man-whore with a huge appetite.

Becca finished her post and closed her laptop. “Einstein, are you ready for your walk?” Her German shepherd barked once in response and circled her twice. “Get your leash while I put on my shoes.”

Einstein slipped his rope off the doorknob and carried it to her, his head held proudly and his backside wiggling in anticipation of their morning run. Becca tied her sneakers and did a few quick stretches before snapping the leash onto the dog’s collar.

Two miles later they returned to Seashell Lane, jogging toward home in her gulf-side community on the northern fringes of Clearwater, Florida. She loved her neighborhood; a comfortable blend of retirees and small families. At least, it had been, until two weeks ago, when her new neighbor, with his constant stream of female visitors, moved in. Her gaze swept to the townhouse next to hers. The man went through women quicker than her ex-husband.

Just then his door opened, and man-whore stepped out on his small front porch. In a purely feminine reaction, she reached to smooth back her hair. Suddenly, Einstein wrenched his leash from her grip and took off.

“Einstein! Einstein, stop!” She sprinted after her errant dog.

Her neighbor pivoted. Einstein leaped, knocking him back against the door. “Whoa there, big guy!” He accepted the canine kisses and aimed dark eyes at her. “Is he yours? He’s some dog.” His large hands ruffled Einstein’s fur. Firm biceps flexed under her neighbor’s black Harley T-shirt, and the bottom of a wicked tribal tattoo peeked from beneath his right sleeve.

“Yes. I’m sorry he jumped on you. He never takes off like that.” No doubt one dog recognizes another.

“Man, I’d love a dog like him. A man’s dog, you know? I’ve got a cat. Not by choice, though. When my sister went off to college, she left Fluffy with me.”

Man-whore aimed a wide smile at her, his perfectly straight teeth a contrast to his tan. A dimple winked. The fact he only had one dimple was the singular flaw on his flawlessly handsome face. Now that she was within five feet of him, she could clearly examine his features. Having watched him through her window from time to time, she knew he was tall and muscular. But up close, she realized he had the body of a serious weight lifter. His long, dark-brown hair was brushed straight back. The skin crinkled at the corners of espresso-colored eyes when he smiled, which he seemed to do easily and frequently. Yet, it was the vision of him holding a cat named Fluffy that nearly made her smile. Muscle man and putty cat.

“You live next door, don’t you?” He jerked his head toward her home.

She bent to grasp the end of her dog’s leash. “Yes, I do.”

He extended his hand when she straightened. “Dan Wolford.” His dimple flashed again and his smile did all kinds of twitchy things to her insides. “Most people simply call me Wolf.”

I’ll just bet they do.

She glanced at his hand for a second. No need to be rude, even if she didn’t care for his cavalier attitude toward women. She did the polite thing. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Dan.”

“Wolf, please.” His large paw enveloped hers, and warmth spread upwards from her stomach, did a backflip and then dove downwards. Meanwhile, his dark gaze assessed her entire body and face, as if she were the most dazzling woman in sweaty running clothes he’d ever seen. His solitary dimple winked along with his thousand-watt smile. One dark eyebrow rose as if he were waiting for her to share her name. She wasn’t sure why she hesitated. She was reluctant. Fueled by his cocksure attitude, no doubt. Now there was a cliché, if ever she’d heard one.

His thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles over her knuckles detonating sensual signals straight to her core. Oh, he was good at this magnetism stuff.

Wolf glanced at her prancing, panting dog. “Einstein, does your owner have a name? It looks like she’s not sharing today.”

Oh, for Pete’s sake.

Einstein whined, his tongue lolling crooked from his mouth.

“Huh, looks like Einstein’s not talking either.” She tugged her hand free. “Excuse me. I have Christmas shopping planned for this afternoon. I better get going.” She pivoted toward her front door.

“Have a good day, Becca Sinclair.” His deep voice washed over her, sending an annoyed shiver up her spine. So the man knew her name all along and was just playing dumb. Was that sneaky arrogance or stalker-creepy?

She glared at him over her shoulder. “If you knew my name, why’d you make a big deal out of asking for it?”

He shrugged and looked down for a beat before aiming his dark eyes at her again. “When a man finds a strange woman attractive, he asks around until he finds out something about her. Mrs. Minelli, two doors down, fears you’ve been pining away for your ex-husband.”

Sneaky stalker creepy.

She turned, snapped her fingers once and Einstein sat at her feet before she planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t appreciate being the topic of neighborhood gossip, Dan Wolford.” Her earlier blog post came to mind, but she mentally swiped it away like a nasty bug on a windshield. On her blog, he and anyone else she wrote about remained anonymous. No one knew exactly who these men were or if they even existed. No harm; no foul.

His smile slid from his face and he stepped toward her. “Mrs. Minelli also said you never smile anymore. I can see she’s right. Look, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She turned to leave and he reached out to grab her arm.

Einstein growled deep in his throat.

In response, Wolf’s hand slipped into his pocket. “Before you go, I’m having a party tonight for my birthday. Nothing big. Family and a few guys from the station. You’re more than welcome to come.”

He has to be kidding. No way am I spending an evening with him, birthday party or not. “Sorry, I have plans.” A pizza and a romance book. “Have a good day, Mr. Wolford.” Clearly she needed to establish some boundaries with this guy. She strode the few feet to her door. Einstein followed.

“Becca, the name’s Wolf,” he called after her.

“Whatever,” she waved her hand in dismissal, “Mister Wolford.”

His deep, warm laughter swept over her like a balmy breeze off the Gulf of Mexico. In response, her temper whirled hot like a cyclone and her fingers curled into fists. Damn, what an arrogant man.

“Seven o’clock. No need to bring a gift. Having you there will be present enough.”

Seriously? Couldn’t the man come up with more original material? Was this how he spoke to every woman to coax them into his bed? And wasn’t that a sad commentary on the brainpower of the female gender if even one fell for it?

“Don’t hold your breath, Fluffy Daddy,” she yelled as she slipped her key in the lock.

He laughed harder. “Make it seven, baby.”

Seven, my ass.

Chapter 2

He shouldn’t have pushed her like that. Hell, he’d be lucky if his attractive neighbor ever spoke to him again. But, wow, how dazzling she’d looked with that brimstone flashing from her hazel eyes. For some reason, the more he talked, the more they sparked. It was almost as if she were pissed at him before he even opened his mouth. But, why?

Wolf’s four younger sisters had initiated him into the mystifying workings of the female mind. His naturally intuitive nature responded fairly well to their fluctuating moods. Once more his gaze shifted to Becca’s front porch. Her body language had been one of total disdain and he hadn’t responded well to it at all. In fact, he’d egged her on. “Yanked her chain,” as April, the oldest of his four sisters, would say.

No doubt he should go next door and apologize for acting like such an ass. Maybe then he could convince the auburn-haired beauty to come to his party tonight. In the two weeks he’d lived here, she’d jogged past his window several times. Her beauty dazzled him. Her long legs were too distracting. And the tales Mrs. Minelli, an elderly neighbor, told about Becca’s giving nature charmed him too. He’d never cared much for self-centered women.

He strode to her townhouse, rang the doorbell and waited.

Finally, her door opened and he was greeted with a scowl. “What?” She tugged the lapels of her short white silky robe together.

“I…ah…” His gaze snagged on all those ample curves showcased by the slinky material. “I…ah…”

“You said that already.” She fisted a hand on her hip.

Einstein cannonballed around Becca with something red clamped in his jaws. He streaked across the grass, his strong muscles propelling him as he circled both of their yards.

“Get back in here!” Becca pointed into her house.

Einstein loped across the grass and shrubbery, ignoring his owner’s command.

Maybe if he acted the hero and returned the pet to its owner, he’d gain a few brownie points. “Stay here. I’ll get him.” Wolf took off after the dog.

Seeing he was being chased only made Einstein run faster. Wolf followed him twice around the yard in front of Becca’s house. The dog leapt over a flowerbed and stopped, his head lowered, shaking his prize, his hind end elevated, wiggling in excitement.

“Give me that.” Wolf stepped to the right around the flowerbed. The dog trotted to the left. In a quick move, he sprinted to the left and the dog dashed to the right. “Think you’re smart, don’t you?” He could have sworn the dog smiled.

Wolf leapt across the blooms, hoping to grab the smartass canine. Once he’d grabbed the collar, they rolled, and Einstein yelped. Wolf grimaced as he, too, rolled across a low-growing cactus and into the trunk of a palm tree. “Dammit.”

The dog whined and dropped the fabric to lick and bite at the prickly thorns in his groin.

“Easy now, Einstein.” Wolf cooed as he slipped his Swiss army knife from the front pocket of his jeans.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on? What are you doing with that knife?” Becca tugged on the hem of her short robe and glanced up and down the street as if she thought to run out into the yard.

“Stay where you are. He’ll be fine. He’s got some thorns in his hide.” Wolf removed the tweezers stored in a slot in the knife and began extracting the offending needles. “We can’t have an awesome fella like you in pain now, can we?” He worked as quickly as he could. “One more, big guy, and then you’ll be fine.” The dog licked him several times. “Yeah, I like you too. Let’s keep what I’m about to do just between us, shall we?” He ran his fingers over the affected groin area, keeping his attentions on the dog’s reactions. “Looks like we got them all.”

“What in blue blazes are you doing to that dog? Are you performing some kind of ‘beasty-wildy’ on him?” Mrs. Minelli, his neighbor, punctured the air with her cane, her white eyebrows arched in question.

He fought the urge to laugh. “No, Mrs. Minelli. I was taking out thorns.”

She cocked her head to the side, her cataract-clouded eyes widened. “In his penis?”

Christ! “No, ma’am. I was just helping him.” He made a mental note to sterilize the tweezers later when he slipped them back into his Swiss knife.

Becca ran across the yard. “What’s going on?”

He turned to tell her about the thorns and stopped. His tongue all but rolled out onto the grass. The Florida sunlight had turned her robe nearly translucent. She had legs that went to her waist, or so they seemed, except for that red patch at their juncture. Evidently her auburn hair was her natural color. His gaze traveled upward to the dusty-pink nipples showcased by the rays of sunshine. All the blood rushed from his brain to his cock. Holy Mother of God.

Wolf couldn’t move. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Einstein trotted to his mistress and licked her knees and, for an instant, he thought of doing the same thing. Be cool, man.

Becca held her robe in place with one hand and grabbed her dog’s collar with her other. “How are you today, Mrs. Minelli?”

“I’m fine, but you’d better get back inside” The elderly woman pointed again with her cane. “That robe is so see-through, we can tell if your belly button is an innie or an outie.”

Becca glanced down and gasped. “Crap!” She spun and bolted for her door, taking Einstein with her.

“I’d watch myself if I were you. She’s not the kind a man diddles with. She’s a decent girl.” She nodded once and shuffled down the sidewalk toward her house.

Properly chastised, Wolf snatched the red lace item Einstein had dropped when he’d gotten hurt. It took a second or two of fingering it before he realized it was a thong. His gaze swept to Becca waiting on the porch. Her cheeks were nearly as red as the skimpy underwear. Most redheads’ skin mottled when they blushed, but not hers. On her, the even blush was appealing.

Once he stepped onto the porch, Becca sputtered in obvious embarrassment. “I…I was about to get in the shower when the doorbell rang.” Einstein leaned against her and she bent in an absent-minded gesture to pet him. Her robe gaped open and Wolf nearly swallowed his tongue at her high, firm breasts. “Thanks for getting him. He never runs off like that and he’s never shown any interest in my clothes.”

“Well, any male—two-legged or four—would be interested in this thong.”

She scowled again.

“Look, I just came over to apologize for flirting with you earlier. I didn’t mean a word of it.” He hooked fingers on both sides of the red lace and all but drooled at the delicate lingerie. “You can still come to my party tonight, though.”

She flinched as if she’d been slapped. Her eyes widened and then narrowed. Luscious lips formed a thin line. “I wouldn’t come to your damn party if you sent me an invitation engraved on a brick of gold.” She snatched her panties from his hands and slammed the door in his face.

What the hell? What did I do?

****

By seven o’clock, Becca had her shopping done, her house decorated for Christmas and two pans of banana nut bread in the oven. If she hadn’t spent so much time at her window, catching sneak peeks at Wolf’s guests ambling up the walk to his front door, she’d have been done much sooner.

The bone-thumping music vibrating through their adjoining wall announced the party was in full swing. A myriad voices, including a deep laugh she recognized as Wolf’s, seeped through the stud-and-plasterboard petition. No doubt they were all having a good time.

She could be, too, if she’d accepted his invitation, but attending his soirée would imply she was another female waiting in line for induction into his harem of conquests. Cold day in hell. Only he’d have to be interested first, wouldn’t he? If his earlier words were any indication, he wasn’t. Which was totally fine with her. Men were a one-way street to the junction of pain and heartache.

“Becca, are you there or did you fall asleep?” Brittany’s annoyed voice boomed from her cell phone. Her best friend had called to say how much she’d enjoyed today’s post on Becca’s blog.

“Sorry. I was watching two of Wolf’s male guests pull up. Each one is more muscular than the last.”

Brittany groaned in response.

“No, you can’t come over. Another one just arrived. That makes a total of six guys driving Harleys.”

Her best friend laughed. “Don’t tell me man-whore rides a hawg, too.”

“Oh, don’t you know it. Big, black and noisy. Chrome out the wah-zoo. Typical show-off bike for a jerk with an overrated opinion of himself.”

“Does he know you ride?”

“Don’t think so.” She turned away from the window. “My Kawasaki Ninja’s been in the shop for over a week. I’m picking it up Monday.” Her stomach growled. “Look, I’m going to hang up and order a pizza. Hope your cramps are better tomorrow.”

“Me too, girlfriend.” Brittany paused. “Becca?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you should reconsider and go to the party. Check out some of those good-looking guys. Maybe you could find one for each of us.”

“That Midol you took musta gone to your brain, girlfriend. I am not going to that party. The man’s an ass and I plan on staying far away from him. Night, babe.”

Becca went online to order a pizza and then sprawled on the sofa with a book. At the beginning of chapter two, the oven’s timer went off and she hurried to the kitchen, inhaling the aromas of nutmeg and cinnamon. She set the golden loaves on top of the stove—one for the Minellis two doors down and one for Brittany and her cramps. When her doorbell chimed, she glanced at her oven clock before hurrying into the foyer.

Einstein was at the door, barking. “Shush, now. Go get in your chair. It’s just our pizza.” He whined and jumped onto his recliner, crying his displeasure at not standing guard.

To her surprise, the blonde she’d seen this morning bringing a pan of goodies to man-whore stood on her small front porch. Her little black dress showcased her figure. “Hi.” She was all smiles.

“Hello.” What was she doing here?

“My brother-in-law sent me over. He wanted to make sure you were coming to the party.” She laughed and tossed her long hair over her shoulder in a smooth, careless move. “He said he’d come get you himself, but he was afraid you’d clobber him.”

“Your brother-in-law?”

“Yes. Wolf. Well, I call him Big Wolf. I’m married to Baby Wolf.” She beamed another smile. “’Course my husband, Jace, gets his boxers in a twist when I call him that. Helps to keep our men off balance, don’t you think?”

So the blonde was a relative, not a conquest. Interesting. Must be a close-knit family, unlike hers.

The lady extended a manicured hand. “I’m Wendy Anne, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.” Becca shook her hand and glanced over the woman’s shoulder at the delivery guy bringing her pizza. “I wasn’t planning on attending the party, as you can see.”

Wendy Anne stepped aside so he could hand Becca her order.

She signed the charge slip on the top of the box. “Please tell the birthday boy I wish him well and I hope he grows up soon.”

Wendy Anne laughed, snatched the pizza from her and spun, keeping it out of her reach. “I’ll just take this and set it out with the rest of the food at Wolf’s. Meanwhile, put on the sexiest damn thing you’ve got and come on over.” She turned and winked. “Ignore the birthday boy, as you call him. Flirt with the rest of the firemen at the party. It’ll drive him nuts.”

“The guys on the Harleys are firemen?”

“That’s right. Wolf, my Jace and most of the men at the party are from Station Thirty-two over on Carpenter Street. Wolf heads the Marine Rescue Unit as well as serving as a fireman.” Wendy Anne glanced away for a beat. “You’re the first woman I’ve known my brother-in-law to show a real interest in since he left the SEALs.” More laughter bubbled forth from this likeable woman. “He even asked me which shirt he should wear tonight. He never does that.” She headed back toward Wolf’s townhouse. “Get your vixen on, girl. I’m going to enjoy watching you two dance around each other. Just come on in. Door’s open.”

Becca closed her door and locked it. “Einstein, that whole family is nuts. ‘Dance around each other,’ indeed. Do you believe what she said? I’m the first he’s shown any interest in?”

Einstein whined.

“Yeah. I don’t believe it either. What about all the women we’ve seen sashaying in and out of his townhouse?” She snapped her fingers and he jumped down from his chair. “Want some kibble, baby?” He followed her into the kitchen. “Don’t know what I’m going to eat.”

She was not going to her neighbor’s party. Although, for two cents, she’d put on that slinky red dress she saved for special occasions, strut over there and retrieve her supper. Not a bad idea. She’d saunter in, make eye contact with Mr. Ex-SEAL and leave with her pizza.

Chapter 3

Wolf knew the moment Becca stepped into his living room. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He swiveled slowly and the air whooshed from his lungs when he zeroed-in on her. Holy Mother of God.

Someone had painted a skimpy red swath of material over a small portion of her skin. It was strapless, pushing the tops of her breasts upward, inviting a man’s fingers to trail over them…or his lips to taste. His fingers flexed in an unspoken command. The hem of the dress barely caressed the essentials. His gaze took a long, leisurely tour of toned thighs and calves, and his cock stood as if it wanted to get a peek at them too. Her red ankle-strap stilettos initiated fantasies of having those satiny-looking limbs wrapped around his hips while he sank into her warmth—repeatedly.

Once his gaze had slowly devoured the sight of her red toenails and snaked over every curve of her luscious body to her siren-red lips, his jeans were so damn tight his pecker would bear the zipper’s imprint for days. Hell, he’d have to stop going commando if he spent more time around her.

Becca glared at him with those smoking eyes of hers, heavily made up to ensnare a man’s attention—and she certainly had his. In fact, she’d captured it his first day here when he glanced out his kitchen door to see her playing with Einstein in her backyard. With his work schedule and hers, meeting up with her to introduce himself and strike up a conversation hadn’t come easy. Now that it had, he intended to get to know her better.

Their gazes connected and a current of potent awareness seemed to arc between them. Becca’s eyes narrowed and she hiked her pointy chin before she sauntered toward Barclay and Quinn from the fire station. Was he seeing correctly? Holy fuck, the back of what barely passed as a dress dipped to showcase two dimples at the flare of her most excellent ass. Damn. Shouldn’t that be illegal in polite society? He glared at the guys. Just what the hell were they gawking at with lust in their eyes? Freakin’ perverts.

“Wow, who’s the lady in red?” Cassie, his baby sister, pointed with her beer bottle. “Redheads don’t usually look good in that color, but she looks fantastic. That is one killer dress.”

“Yeah. What there is of it.” He snatched the long neck from Cassie. “She’s Becca, my next-door neighbor, and you are not drinking.”

“I’ll be twenty-one next month.”

“Well, this isn’t January, now, is it?”

“You’re awful grumpy for being the birthday boy.” Cassie frowned.

Yeah, well try being the birthday boy with a massive hard-on in a roomful of people. He brought her beer to his mouth and upended it. Lord knew, he needed something to cool off with after feasting his eyes on Becca.

Cassie looped her arm in his. “I don’t need you to be my daddy anymore, big brother. You’ve sacrificed too much for us. All of us.” She jerked her chin in Becca’s direction. “You need to get a personal life. I see how you look at her. It’s as if she were a pitcher of ice water and you needed a long, slow drink.”

Hell, baby sister, if you only knew.

He bent to kiss Cassie’s dark hair. When he’d resigned his commission with the SEALs she had been sixteen, troubled and homeless. She needed his influence and care. So had his other three sisters. His brother, Jace, newly married to Wendy Anne and finishing college, had had his own list of responsibilities. The last thing Jace needed heaped on his plate was four teenage girls crowding his apartment, taking away the privacy every man should have with his new wife. It seemed the whole family needed Wolf’s help to get them through the grief of losing both parents in the hellacious fire that destroyed two homes on their block.

His CO tried talking him out of resigning and had said he had a bright future in the Navy. But as the oldest sibling, he had obligations. Family had been so important to his mom and dad. He wasn’t about to dishonor their memory by turning his back on them.

“Is there any more of that fruit punch you made?” He’d like to keep her from drinking until she was legal… or thirty-five.

Cassie’s eyes narrowed and she nodded.

“Why don’t you get us each a glass? Lots of ice in mine.” Punch was the last thing he wanted, but if it kept her away from the booze, he’d gladly suffer through.

“You are so-o-o transparent.” She strode away.

“Yeah, well, you are so-o-o underage, Cassie-Bassie.” He laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him.

Wolf’s gaze swept to Becca. Quinn had her backed against the wall where his forearm rested above her pretty head. She was paying close attention to whatever he was saying. No doubt Quinn, the bastard, was working his charm on her. Something elemental and possessive unfurled and snarled in Wolf’s gut. Oh no. Oh, hell no! He shouldered his way through a roomful of guests. If anyone was going to flirt with her tonight, it would damn well be him. He had seen her first, dammit.

“When is the charity bike ride for children’s toys?” Becca’s gaze flicked to his when he stopped next to her and Quinn.

“Saturday after next. Right, Wolf?” Quinn gave an ornery grin. “Guess who’s leading the ride dressed up as Santa?” Quinn the blabbermouth jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We voted The Wolf in.”

“Railroaded would be more like it. I took off work to look after Cassie when she had her wisdom teeth out, and the whole gang at the station decided to pick the least-likely candidate for the position.” He sidled up to Becca and trailed a finger down her arm. “Do I look like Santa to you?”

She scowled and turned slightly out of his reach. “No, you don’t. You do resemble one of his elves, though. Dopey.”

“Hey,” he splayed a hand over his chest. “You’re breaking my heart here. Besides, wasn’t Dopey a dwarf?”

She nodded and winked. “Yup, but tall or short, in your case, it fits.” Pleased with herself, if her smirk was any indication, she fingered one of her dangly earrings, which was so long it kissed her bare shoulder. “Is Cassie one of your girlfriends?”

“Oh, God, no. I’m his baby sister.” Cassie handed him a glass of punch. “Wolf, where are your manners? She doesn’t have a drink.” His sister elbowed Quinn. “Hot lips, why don’t you get Becca a glass of wine. White or red?”

“I’m not staying. I just came over for—”

“She’ll have white. It goes best with birthday cake.” Wolf kept his gaze locked on Becca’s. “Bring her a slab of cake, too, Quinn. In fact, fix her a whole plate of goodies. My sisters have outdone themselves.”

“Hey, it’s not every day our big brother turns thirty.” Cassie took Quinn’s hand and they ambled toward the dining room.

For some reason, Becca blushed a deep red. “How…how many sisters do you have?”

He sipped at the punch and set it on a nearby table. “Four. I’m the oldest, then my brother Jace.” He started to point across the room, thought better of it, and stepped nearer to Becca. Placing one hand at the small of her bare back, he indicated where his brother sat with his wife on his lap. “You’ve already met Wendy Anne.”

“Yes.” She shivered slightly under his touch, which pleased him.

“They’re expecting a child. They just made the announcement at our family Thanksgiving meal. They lost the first baby, so Wendy Anne wanted to wait until her first trimester was over to share the news.”

Becca glanced at him. “How do you feel about being an uncle?”

He laughed. “I’ve already bought the stroller. Rated the safest on the market. It’s going to be the kid’s first Christmas gift. That and a big toy wolf.” He motioned with his hands. “It’s got to be the size of Einstein.”

“What’s a baby going to do with a gigantic thing like that?”

“You just wait. The kid will drag it everywhere.” He turned her slightly. “See the girl in black over by the doorway? That’s April, the oldest of my sisters. She’s arguing with Jenna, another sister. April’s engaged and wants her best friend for her maid of honor. Jenna’s feelings are hurt, but with three sisters, how can April choose just one?”

“I see her point.”

With her heels, Becca was nearly as tall as his six foot two, and he liked being able to look directly into her hazel eyes. There were gold flecks in their depths. He leaned a little closer to inhale her vanilla and lilac scent.

“Is Cassie the sister who gave you Fluffy?” She glanced around. “Where is the cat?”

“Hiding out upstairs in my bedroom. She won’t come down until the house is quiet again. Megan, sister number three, gave me the fur ball when she went away to University of Florida. ” He slid his hand upward from the small of her back until he could wrap his arm around her shoulder. “That’s her holding court with three of the firemen from our fire and rescue station. Megan’s an R.N.”

“You sound proud.”

“I’m proud of all of them. Cassie graduated from beauty school last spring and has her own beauty shop over on Pinella. April’s an engineer. Jenna works as a buyer for Macy’s.”

“And you’re a fireman.”

He smiled. “That I am, although my primary duty is to head the Marine Rescue Unit. What about you?”

“I’m a reporter for the Clearwater Daily.” She accepted the glass of wine Cassie handed her and sipped.

Freakin’ hell. Of all the professions in the world, why that one? “A reporter? Don’t tell me you’re one of those lowlifes who ask victims at the most painful points of their lives how they felt when the car ran over their child or a bomb exploded in their faces.” Or when an arsonist’s handiwork burned down the family’s home with their parents sleeping inside.

Becca straightened her shoulders and folded her arms at her waist. “People have a right to the news. The complete news.”

“And people have a right to their privacy. Reporters are the pimple on the ass of the world.”

Before his eyes, Becca morphed from a sensual, enticing breeze to a blistering tempest. “You arrogant, opinionated ass. Reporters have a job to do the same as anyone else!”

He leaned in, his temper burning hot in his gut. “Oh, and is it your job to hurt others?”

“Hur…hurt others? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Wolf.” Cassie’s request was barely a whisper. She wiped a tear and stormed off.

Becca stared after his sister’s hurried retreat. “See, you’ve even upset her.”

“Not me. You.” He poked his finger against the bare skin of her shoulder. He took a deep breath to try and settle his raging anger and glanced away for a beat. “We lost our parents in a fire four years ago. Cassie was staying at a friend’s house the night it happened.”

He looked at Becca again. Her eyebrows were furrowed, as if taking in every word he uttered. “My baby sister blamed herself for not being home, felt if she had been, she might have saved Mom and Dad. Reporters hounded her relentlessly, asking her how she ‘felt.’” He spat the last word. “She wasn’t the only one harassed. So were the rest of my siblings, but for Cassie, combined with her blaming herself, their onslaught nearly did her in. I left the SEALs and came home to care for her and to finish raising the older three girls.”

Her warm hand settled on his forearm and he welcomed the contact, reporter or not.

“I’m sorry for all your family went through. That’s a horrible, horrible tragedy.”

He nodded, ready to change the topic. “Are your parents living?”

“Yes. They’re divorced. Dad lost his job in the weakened economy. We lost the house. Mom lost her lifestyle.” She wove fingers through her long curls and sighed. “Everything fell apart.”

“Yeah. Life can be a bitch.”

Becca sipped her wine, her forehead furrowed. “You know, not all reporters are as aggressive as the ones your family tangled with.”

He chuffed a short laugh. “Do you really want to continue down that dark path of conversation? We all have our pet peeves, our push buttons. Reporters are mine.”

“So you blame all reporters for a few rogue ones with zero sensitivity? Even someone like me, who handles obituaries and the social pages?” Her hazel eyes narrowed and her lips pinched. “Golly, I bet you really hate the guys who cover the sports, thoughtless heathens that they are.” She handed him her glass, turned and stormed out with that world-class ass twitching under her tight skirt.

He shoved a hand into the pocket of his jeans. A reporter. The first woman in years to snag his attention and she just had to be a freaking reporter. A soulless parasite who fed on the misfortune of others. A beautiful and enticing parasite. She stirred something in him, and he wasn’t at all sure he liked it. He clunked her glass on the stand next to his. Damn it all to hell.

As if she were a siren and he her mindless fool, he followed.

Chapter 4

Becca fingered for her door key, hidden in the hanging fern on her porch and wiped off the dirt before sticking it in her lock. Going over to Wolf’s had been a huge mistake. Huge. She’d gone to the trouble of getting made-up and squeezed into her best dress for five minutes of party and ten minutes of lecture. Damn, what an annoying man.

From inside, Einstein barked and whined an eager welcome.

“Becca! Becca, wait up.” Hurried footfalls sounded behind her and a hand coiled around her arm. Wolf turned her to face him. “I was offensive back there. I’m sorry.”

Just why did you have to make him so handsome, God? Even in the dark, his voice is deep and sensual. Couldn’t you have taken some of his abundant sexiness and used it to make him more pleasant? ’Cause this guy is one rude piece of work.

She jerked her hand from his grasp. “First, you can stop putting your hands on me. Earlier today you said you were sorry for flirting with me, as if I wasn’t the type of woman you found attractive.”

“That’s not true. I find you very attractive. What man wouldn’t?”

She chose to ignore his forced compliment. After all, she’d gotten all dressed up for him and he never once told her how nice she looked. Nice? Hell, she looked hot, the big jerk. “Now you’re apologizing for being impolite and insulting. Tell me, do you ever do anything you don’t regret later?”

He backed her against the door, his dark eyes glittering in the soft light spilling onto the porch from her desk lamp near the window. Her tummy did a little twitchy thing when his thighs bumped hers. His fingers forked in her hair, angling her head so their gazes locked. “Believe me, you annoying woman, what I’m about to do next I don’t plan on regretting.”

His warm, soft lips covered hers with gentle sips at first as if tasting her or waiting for her to object. She would have, too, if her mind hadn’t stopped working. Her whole body sparked with a sensual overload, and she trembled with its power. His fingertips massaged her scalp in miniscule circles, sending an erotic electrical current zinging down her thighs to zap the tips of her toes.

Her hands took on a life of their own and spread over his hard chest and broad shoulders. Tension rippled beneath his white, soft polo shirt as her hands explored and caressed. He tasted of beer and something sweet, whipped into a frenzy with tightly reigned male passion. Wood tones from his cologne were too appealing. Against her desires—or because of them—she pressed against the heat of his muscular frame.

He groaned her name against her lips and she was lost.

Wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing her fingers to sift through his long hair, she tangled her tongue with his. Wetness pooled and a moan escaped from the confines of her chest. How long? How long had it been since she’d felt so feminine, so aroused, so damned desperate for a man? When he angled his head to take the kiss deeper and rocked his hips against hers, the fleeting question in her mind morphed into raw need.

He took control, grabbed her bottom and rubbed her mound against his erection to increase the friction.

A rainbow of fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. Sensations staggering between pain and pleasure erupted. If she didn’t end this, she’d climax on her front porch—and wouldn’t that just add to his egotistical opinion of himself?

She pushed him away. “No.”

His eyes were hooded and obsidian with desire. He rested his forehead against hers and took several long, deep breaths. “You’re right. Not here. Not now.”

“Not ever.”

Caution coiled strong tentacles around her heart. She wanted this man. Perhaps that was why she watched him from her window and was so attentive to his comings and goings. Something about his bearing attracted her, and she wanted him with an intensity she’d never had with Tommy Ray. What passion they’d shared at the start of their four-year marriage soon died. No doubt a few times with Wolf and this sexual craze would fade too. Would its ending hurt as much as the conclusion of her life with her ex-husband? She wouldn’t allow herself to find out. This magnetism had to cease now.

“You have a party to return to, birthday boy.”

His head inclined and he feathered several kisses against her neck. She stifled a moan. It was as if he already knew her body’s erogenous zones. Her nipples peaked in search of friction from his fingers or tongue.

He straightened and ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “I have to work tomorrow and the next day. We do two twenty-four-hour shifts at the station and then have two days off. My family’s going Christmas-caroling at two retirement homes Wednesday evening. Would you like to come along? It’s something we started on my first Christmas out of the Navy. Being with seniors reminds us of our parents and grandparents.” He glanced away. “Anchors us in the season, somehow.”

Pain, grief perhaps, tinged his final statement and touched her heart. “That’s a very magnanimous gesture. I’m guessing yours is a family that goes all out for the holidays?” Hers hadn’t since her dad walked out.

He trailed his fingertips down her cheek. “You have no idea how much we love Christmas. It tends to bring out the kid in each of us. Everyone meets at my place for cookies and hot chocolate before we head off to the nursing homes. Wendy Anne has a keyboard we take along.”

“Wow. You do go all out.” Would Wolf be a powerful singer or produce a flat tone? She’d love to go along just to hear him.

“The girls have already put together little presents for the senior citizens. Lotions, bath gels, stockings.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Stuff like that. I throw in books. Romances for the women, books set during World War II or the Vietnam War for the men.”

She hadn’t expected this side of him and it surprised her. “Why would you include me in your family tradition? I’ll feel as if I’m intruding.”

“No. The more, the merrier. Some of the guys from the station are also going along. They bought puzzles to add to the presents we’ll hand out.”

“I could make cookies and candies. I love to cook, but rarely do it just for me.”

“Sounds good. Come over at six on Wednesday. It’ll be an early evening since the old folks tend to go to bed earlier than most.” He stepped closer and took her hand in his. “Maybe we could go out for a late dinner. I’ll make reservations for the two of us somewhere.”

Singing Christmas carols and handing out gifts as part of a group was one thing, but dinner alone with him was more personal. She had to keep her distance. With one heated kiss, he’d melted a layer of the glacier encasing her heart. A handsome, sexy, self-assured man could do great damage. She had to deflect Wolf’s allure by refusing his offer. What better way to repel him than reminding him what she was? “You’d take a lowly reporter out to dinner?”

He slipped his hands into the back pockets of his black jeans and stepped backwards. “A reporter. Yeah, I’d forgotten.” He snorted a burst of laughter. “Hell, with my lips fused to yours earlier, I damn near forgot my name. I never lose control with a woman like that.” His gaze shifted to the street for a few seconds, and he murmured something she couldn’t distinguish. His posture and the set of his broad shoulders spoke of sadness. Oh, girl, get a grip. Just like all men, he’s a heartache with a capital H.

“Good night, Wolf.”

His dark eyes with their predatory gaze landed on her, and for an instant, they almost caressed her before emotion shuttered them. “I’m attracted to you. I won’t deny it.” He huffed an audible sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “I also don’t like or trust reporters. Dammit, why did you have to be one?” He executed a half-hearted salute and walked away. “Good night, reporter lady.”

A dose of melancholy misted her eyes and she willed the tears away. Why would she care if the man never approached her again? Or kissed her? She turned and leaned her forehead against the front door, sighing. Something about the feelings he stirred in her scared her. The man certainly knew how to hijack a kiss. For a minute he had her femininity flying high—and she feared the crash landing the ride would surely bring.

****

Salt spray moistened Wolf’s face as the rubber inflatable craft sped along the causeway. He welcomed the familiar exhilaration, the adrenaline rush. Dressed in scuba gear, his gaze swept over his highly trained four-man Marine Rescue Unit as they expertly prepared for their rescue attempt. When the call came into the station from a stranded boat near Memorial Causeway Bridge, his team was underway in less than five minutes.

His diving partner, Barclay, shouted over the noise of the speeding engine, “Dispatch said the guy fell overboard?”

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