Holiday Hearts Read Online Free Page B

eleven o’clock at night. She’d had dinner with him and now she was using his bathroom. He wanted her to change “into something more comfortable.” Alright, he hadn’t said that exactly but she got the hint.
    What am I doing? she wondered dropping down to sit on the side of his Jacuzzi style tub.
    Outside, she heard a light drizzle--freezing rain and sleet. She’d noticed it when she walked from the dining room, through the kitchen. If she got close enough to the window, she could hear it hitting the glass and making a tiny clicking sound. There was no denying the logic of her staying at Ian’s tonight. Driving would be a disaster. Still, she wished there was another alternative. Or did she?
    By the time she’d come out of the bathroom Ian had the fire roaring again and the television was tuned to some black and white movie. The shirt from the laundry basket that she’d put on was long, and the fabric was soft against her skin. His distinctive masculine scent clung to the shirt surrounding her like a warm cocoon.
    She walked over to the sofa unsure of herself and sat on the edge of the cushion, trying to decide once again if she was doing the right thing. Did she really have to stay here with Ian or was it a convenient excuse? Maybe she should have gone to a hotel. That way she wouldn’t be tortured by her desire for something that was at best only fleeting.  It was unfair of him to suggest that she stay with him. Dinner was virtually prepared and waiting, as if he’d been expecting her all along. And the setting—the dim lights, the gorgeous Christmas tree, the moonlight that poured into the living room from the huge windows—created the most romantic surroundings. Why didn’t he invest in mini blinds like other people?
    “Here we go, nice, hot cocoa,” he said. His smile was a bit too broad, his steps a little too sure-footed.  As he sat on the sofa beside her, offering her an oversized mug with cute little Disney characters on it and a mountain of whipped cream piled on top—she thought he was a little too damn smug for the situation.
    “Ian, maybe I should go,” she said, as he thrust the mug toward her hands. The cup was warm as she took the handle with one hand and held the bottom with the other.
    “Careful, it’s hot,” he said and used his now free hand to grab one of the dishtowels he’d thrown over his shoulder and gave it to her.
    Why did he have to be so considerate? He was making this too hard.
    Reluctantly she took the towel wrapping it around the mug, but refusing to put it down on the table beside her. It wasn’t just that he’d managed to give her a mug with one of her favorite characters on it—Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh —but the scent of fresh cocoa and whipped cream was like a drug. Each time she inhaled, the aroma wafted to her nose, calming and easing her worries, and making it difficult for her to come up with a good reason why she should leave.
    He was settled back in the chair with his mug of cocoa cradled in his hand. “Now what were you saying?”
    “Ah,” she stammered. What was she going to say? Oh, yeah, she was going to leave. “I was just thinking that maybe the roads are clear now.”
    “That was the problem, remember? The streets are coated with black ice. It’s slippery and dangerous to drive on the highway, especially in that car of yours.”
    He dipped his head to take a sip of cocoa, and licked the whipped cream off that covered his upper lip. She watched his profile, his strong jaw line moving as he swallowed.  His close-cropped hair tapered softly against his head, as his dark eyebrows arched slightly over his deep brown eyes. Stop it , she warned herself. Admitting that Ian was a very attractive man had never been an issue for her. But desperately wanting to sleep with him had been a problem.
    “So, how do you like your cocoa? Do you need more sugar? More whipped cream?”
    His question tore her away from her lustful thoughts and she hurried to