Her Secret Santa, Page 2

  He put his SLR digital camera in the box with the toys, stacked the coffees and donut bag on top and ambled into headquarters. It was early but he knew Ally would be in her office. She worked hard, straddling her two worlds—part-cop, part-firefighter. She was good at what she did, and gave the job her all. As far as he knew, she gave everything her all—she didn’t appear to know any other way.

  It was sexy as hell. She was sexy as hell.

  Memories of last night came back to him, seeing her fearlessly racing across the crime scene in that hot little black dress and high heels, gun in hand like a Bond girl as she’d gone after that punk kid. The way she’d looked holding her perp to the ground, her knee in his back, cuffing him, had given him more than a few X-rated dreams.

  In fact, he had an entire file in his brain labeled: Hot Fantasies Starring Ally Dauer. He accessed that mental file now, taking out one of his favorites, which involved her and those handcuffs and—

  “Hiya, sweet cheeks,” said Cherry, the floor’s receptionist. She was pert and pretty, and waving at him. Obliging, he moved closer to her desk. She leaned over it, giving him a nice view down her top to her breasts, which were as pert and pretty as the rest of her. “Going to be at the poker party this weekend?” she asked.

  This weekend he’d be painting the master bathroom in his house. “Sorry.”

  “Aw, it’s like the changing of an era. Sam got married, and you bought that house and got all domesticated,” she said sadly.

  Yeah, he had. And he liked it. No more waking up hung-over, sometimes alone, sometimes not, but always…restless.

  “Maybe next time?” Cherry asked hopefully.

  “Maybe. Is Ally Dauer in?”

  “Just got here.”

  “Thanks.” He lugged the box and his bribe down the hall, stopping in her doorway. As always, the sight of her gave him a one-two punch. Partly because she was hot, and partly because…hell. He had no clue. She wasn’t even his type. She tended to be anal and driven.

  But apparently there was no reasoning with chemistry.

  She was behind her desk, her strawberry-blond hair pulled back in its usual neat ponytail, a little pair of reading glasses perched on her nose and a pencil between her teeth as she tapped away on a laptop and simultaneously spoke on the phone.

  And just like that, another fantasy raised its dirty head—the naughty secretary.

  She was talking about the teenager she’d caught on scene yesterday, telling someone that just because he was a stupid kid in the wrong place at the wrong time didn’t excuse the fact that he’d had a gun he’d stolen from his friend’s father. Or that he’d used it. Her point made, she hung up and noticed Eddie standing there.

  “Hey,” he said with a smile.

  Her haze eyes narrowed and she didn’t say a word.

  Clearly, she was crazy about him.

  But he knew the way to her heart. Setting down the box of toys on a spare chair, he handed her his camera.

  Sure enough, she gasped and hugged it to her chest.

  “Funny, I’ve never been jealous of a camera before,” he chuckled.

  She ignored that. “Eddie, I can’t borrow this.” Even as she said it, she gripped it tight like she wasn’t going to let it go. “I have a bad track record with—”

  “I trust you.” Next, he handed her one of the coffees. Taking the other, he sat across from her.

  She let out a sigh, along with some of her tension, took a sip of her coffee, then eyed the donut bag.

  He handed it over.

  Peeking in, she finally let loose a smile and a hum of pleasure that sounded so sexual, his dick twitched.

  She pulled out the chocolate old-fashioned glazed donut and stared at it all soft-eyed. “Well, hello, lover,” she cooed. At her first bite, she moaned load and throaty. “Oh my God.”

  Eddie watched her suck some chocolate off her thumb and had to remind himself to breathe. He liked the way she looked all devoid of tension. He liked it a lot. He took a cherry-filled donut and they ate in companionable silence, him still hard as a rock, her still looking like she was a fraction of an inch from orgasm.

  He polished off his within minutes and eyed hers.

  She still had half left.

  She noticed him looking at it, then held it out to him—only to pull it back when he reached for it. “Sweet Cheeks?” she murmured.

  “Huh?”

  She arched a brow. “Cherry. She called you sweet cheeks.”

  He let out a breath and shrugged. He wasn’t going there. It was embarrassing.

  She just looked at him, then swiveled her finger in an unmistakable demand for him to stand up and turn around.

  “Seriously?”

  She just gave a pointed glare at the half donut in her fingers and baiting him, took another slooooow bite.

  With a shake of his head, he stood, turned, and gave her a view of his ass. When he faced her again, she handed him the rest of her donut. “Nice, but I don’t know about sweet.”

  “I didn’t make up the nickname.”

  She licked the pad of her thumb to get the last little bit of chocolate, then sucked it into her mouth with an enthusiasm that went straight through him. “But I noticed you didn’t ask her to stop calling you sweet cheeks.”

  He wasn’t vain, but neither was he stupid. Yes, he knew women found him attractive. Hell, he’d spent nearly all of his twenties exploiting that very fact. “Would you feel better if I filed a sexual harassment case?”

  “You?” She rolled her eyes. “I was worried about Cherry. I like her. And I’d hate to see you play her.”

  “Play her,” he repeated.

  She went back to her computer. “It’s just that if you’re going to date her twice and then drop her like a bad habit, maybe you could just spare her and back off now.”

  He stared at her. “Okay, call me slow, but are we still talking about Cherry?”

  “Forget it.”

  “No. You’re mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “I grew up with three sisters,” he said. “I know women. You’re mad.”

  She snorted and went back to typing, which was irritating, even if she was hot. Leaning in, he closed her laptop, leaving his hand on top of it. They were close now, close enough that he could press his face into her sweet smelling hair if he wanted, or to her neck, which would be even nicer.

  She lifted her gaze to his and he caught a glimpse of the same almost bewildered attraction he felt. Damn, her glasses even magnified her eyes, which were fathomless and completely unreadable. “Talk to me, Ally.”

  She drew a shaky breath. “Why are you limping?”

  “I fell through a roof. Why are you mad at me?” he repeated quietly.

  Standing, nearly bumping into his body with hers, she declined to answer and walked to the box he’d brought, and began looking through the unwrapped toys. “Wow. Great start,” she said, sounding genuinely pleased. “The kids are going to love—” Breaking off, she frowned and pulled out a box, wrapped in shiny red paper covered with naked Santas. “What the—”

  He looked at it, and with a laugh, shook his head. “I don’t know. Someone’s idea of funny?”

  “It’s inappropriate, is what it is.” Then her eyes narrowed. “There’s a tag.”

  Shifting closer, he read over her shoulder: To: Fire Investigator Ally Dauer.

  Their gazes met.

  Held.

  “You must have an admirer,” he said.

  “Is his name Eddie Weston?”

  Trick question alert. “I’m an admirer,” he said carefully. “But no, I didn’t do this.”

  She just looked at him for a long moment, as if searching for honesty. When he shrugged, she ripped off the paper. Then she went utterly still.

  “What?”

  She held up a small specialty bottle. “Flavored massage oil.”

  Huh. He wasn’t crazy about the thought of someone sending her a gift like that, especially in this man
ner, secretly and sneakily. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her, or what he wanted from her, but he did know this. For whatever reason, he was definitely drawn to her. He had been from the beginning, and he wanted her safe.

  She read the label and grimaced. “Sensual, self-heating.” Her cheeks were pink. “Um.”

  “What?”

  “It’s…edible.”

  The air between seemed to crackle. Yep, he was definitely drawn to her. Which made it all the more frustrating that she’d not shown any interest in him. They could have had something pretty damn hot together. “How thoughtful,” he finally said. “Boyfriend maybe?”

  “No. None.”

  “Stalker?”

  “Not this week.”

  “Good.” He smiled, not sure what it said about him that he was more relieved about her lack of boyfriend than lack of stalker. He moved close, taking the bottle from her hand. “Peach flavored,” he murmured, thinking hot peach pie, slathered over smooth, creamy skin. Oh, yeah. His favorite dessert.

  “Who would send this to me?” she asked.

  She didn’t sound particularly steady, and he wondered if her reaction had more to do with whatever the hell seemed to be happening between them today, or with the present. “I’m taking it you have no contenders?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it, apparently figuring no answer was the best way to go.

  He took her hand and poured a drop in her palm, then lifted it to his mouth, touching his tongue to the very center of her palm.

  She jerked and stared at him. “It’s heating up!”

  “Uh-huh.” And that wasn’t the only thing heating up. He had more than one body part doing the same. When he sank his teeth into the fleshy part of her hand, she gasped in a breath.

  “Eddie.” She simply stood there, eyes a little wide, mouth a little open, her nipples pressing against her shirt.

  He ran the pad of his thumb over her knuckles and shifted closer, breathing out her name as her eyes slowly drifted closed—

  “Eddie? Line one,” Cherry called from down the hall. “It’s station thirty-one. You forgot to pick up their box of toys.”

  He didn’t take his eyes off Ally. “Tell them I’m coming.”

  In front of him, Allie swallowed. Nodded. “You’re coming—” She grimaced. “I mean going. You’re going—” She slapped one hand over her eyes, then used the other to give him a not-so-gentle shove toward the door.

  He resisted and pressed his mouth to her ear. “I’d rather be coming.”

  With a soft, indistinguishable sound, she gave him one last push out of her office.

  And then for good measure, she slammed the lock home with a loud click.

  Yep. She was crazy about him.

  CHAPTER 3

  ALLY SPENT the rest of the week resolutely not thinking about how at the touch of Eddie’s tongue to her palm, heat had slashed through her.

  Okay, she thought about it.

  A lot, but she was only human.

  And that’s what made her so damn cautious with men. She had no trouble attracting them, but she sure as hell had trouble keeping them. Yes, she was focused on her work, but she could focus on more than one thing at a time.

  Or she wanted to think she could.

  But a relationship hadn’t been in the cards for her. As a result, she knew she’d built a wall around herself, keeping the vicious cycle going.

  At least she loved her work. She was finishing up a long, tough drawn-out investigation that she and the arson department had been working on for five months. The fires had caused six deaths, two of them children. But finally, they’d been able to nail their bad guy. She’d been there for the arrest, and felt the surge of satisfaction of a job well done.

  But she’d been putting in long hours and was exhausted. Unfortunately, she still had a stack of paperwork threatening to take over her desk. And on the top was a full file with a burgeoning set of notes she’d tentatively labeled:

  Her Secret Santa.

  She’d kept the massage oil and the wrapping paper for evidence. The paper and a Polaroid of the oil was in the file. She’d looked up the adult novelty stores in the area and intended to check out the kind of merchandise each of them handled.

  Eyeing her To Do stack, she blew out a sigh. All she really wanted was some dinner, maybe a glass of wine, and at least eight hours horizontal. There’d been a time when she would have added a man-induced orgasm to the list but she thought she just might be too tired for even that.

  Okay, so she’d stick around the office for another hour, get something done, then go home and collapse. That decided, she moved down the hall into the staff room for some caffeine, and was alternating sipping and blowing on the hot coffee when she walked back into her office.

  And found a new box of toys on her chair.

  In her line of work, instinct was critical, and she’d learned never to doubt hers. On a hunch, she immediately set down her coffee and pulled out the unwrapped toys. “Crap,” she whispered, discovering the single wrapped gift in the bottom.

  This time the paper was shiny green, but the naked Santas were the same. Grabbing the gift, she ran out the door towards the reception area, just in time to hear Cherry say to Eddie, “See ya, sweet cheeks.”

  Allie’s jaw clicked tight. He was clearly off duty, in faded jeans, a soft white untucked henley and scuffed sneakers, looking better than a dead man walking had a right to look. “Hey, sweet cheeks,” she said, and had the unexpected pleasure of watching Eddie wince as he turned to face her.

  “Can I see you a moment. In my office?”

  He looked at the present in her hands, clearly realized the implications, and his easy smile faded. His eyes, always watchful, went uncharacteristically serious. Something else sparked there, as well, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. At first glance she might have said protectiveness, but that was ridiculous given that he’d just moved to the top of her suspect list.

  They walked side by side down the hall, her vibrating with awareness of being so close to him, all six feet two of warm, hard muscle. “You’re not limping as badly today,” she noted.

  Apparently he had no response to that as he put a hand to her lower back, gently pushing her into her office ahead of him. “Open it,” he said in his deep, even voice.

  Feeling a catch in her chest, she stepped away from him. She’d discovered she couldn’t think with his big, warm hand on her. Then she pulled off the paper and stared down at the book entitled Even Losers Can Get Laid—Yes, I’m Talking To You. She choked out a laugh that had no humor in it.

  It hit a little too close to home…

  There was a bookmark stuffed in the pages, of a stacked blonde wearing a Santa hat, long red gloves, red thigh-high stockings, and nothing else. The page that had been bookmarked was the first in a new chapter—How To Kiss To Get Lucky.

  Eddie chuckled, a soft, low sound that scraped at her belly. Lifting her head, she narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t funny. What the hell is this about?”

  His eyes widened slightly in disbelief. “You think I sent it?”

  “Well, hello, you’re the one delivering the toys!”

  He let out a long breath. “Okay, that does look bad, but here’s the thing.”

  “The thing? What thing?”

  He ran an agitated hand through his hair and looked like he’d rather have a tooth pulled without Novocain.

  “Spill it, Weston.”

  “Both times I personally put all the toys in that box. The box was empty beforehand and it never left my sight. But I absolutely didn’t give you either of those…gifts.” He flashed a small smile. “Not that I can’t appreciate the humor, but I already know you can kiss.” Their eyes locked for a long moment. “And second, I couldn’t have wrapped them that well.”

  She let out a breath and plopped down onto her desk, drumming her fingers on the opened Her Secret Santa file.

  Eddie caught sight of the papers, and before she could stop
him, picked up the file.

  “Hey. Confidential information.”

  He simply held it too high for her to reach as he skimmed her notes, then slid her a look that said he was thinking about smiling. “An official investigation? Really?”

  “Shh!” She shut her door, which only seemed to further amuse him. “And not official official.” She rolled her eyes and looked away when he let out a low, delighted laugh.

  “I want in on it,” he said.

  “No.”

  “Hell, yes.” He leaned a hip on her desk, as if maybe his leg was still bothering him after all. “I’m already involved,” he added. “I’m also a city official, same as you. So I’m in.”

  Her stomach growled, loudly, echoing in the room. She’d gone without lunch, and now it was well past dinner time. She was too hungry to be embarrassed, or even argue effectively.

  He seemed to sense her weakened state and put the sex manual into the file folder, tucking it under his arm. With his free hand, he grabbed hers. “Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “Just come on.”

  She didn’t argue, which was really unlike her. She must be hungrier than she thought. She waited until he’d opened the passenger door to his truck for her, and then come around, carefully hoisting himself into the driver’s seat. “Your leg—”

  “Is fine.”

  “It doesn’t seem like it.”

  “Do you need to see for yourself?”

  They both knew that for her to do that, he’d have to pull down his pants. She was wrestling with the conflicting lust and terror of that thought when he laughed softly. “God, you should come play poker with us. I’d make a killing off you.” Leaning over the console between them, he put his mouth to her ear and whispered, “And any time you want my pants off, Ally, all you have to do is ask.”

  She blushed, pretended she didn’t care, and stared out the window while he chuckled softly at her embarrassment.

  He drove them into town, parking in the lot in front of her favorite café.

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “I’m too hungry to think.” He pulled her inside, nudged her into one of the back booths, then slid in beside her instead of across from her.