Christmas Male. Cara Summers
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the season with family and friends. Lights twinkled on shrubs, and Christmas trees glowed in the windows.
They were still a hundred yards from the corner when two figures rounded it and headed toward them. They wore jeans and hooded sweatshirts. Both male, Fiona decided. And young. Each was using earphones and one was texting a message. The Georgetown campus was only a short distance, so they could be college kids. But it was a little early on a Friday night to be heading back from one of the watering holes on P Street that students favored.
“Trouble,” D.C. murmured.
His instincts were aligned with hers, and adrenaline spiked through her. “A couple of hours ago I was practically praying for a little snatch and run.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
The two young men were drawing steadily closer.
“Look.” He spoke softly as he slipped his hand around her upper arm. “Let’s make it easy for them.”
“I’m not giving them my purse.”
“Of course not. We just want to throw them off guard. Follow my lead. When I turn you, bring your purse up between us.”
Without waiting for a reply, he pulled her close until only her evening bag separated them. Even while she slipped her hand in and grasped her revolver, she was intensely aware of other details. Other sensations. His chest was hard as a rock, and he was taller than she’d thought. In her heels, she still only came up to his chin. His hand was large enough to wrap completely around her arm. Even through her coat sleeve, she could feel the pressure of each one of his fingers. And she was pretty sure she’d need a crowbar to dislodge them.
“What are you…” Her whispered words trailed off as he bent his head closer. For one instant, she was sure he was going to kiss her. Every nerve in her body went on full alert. She should have moved—pushed him away. But she was helpless against the wave of longing that moved through her. For one instant, she lost track of every thought. All she wanted was to feel his lips against hers.
At the last moment, he angled his head and whispered in her ear. “Can you get your gun out?”
Ruthlessly, she focused. “Already did.” They were about to be mugged. In her peripheral vision, she saw a figure crossing the street. “There’s one behind us.”
“You handle him. On a count of three. One…”
He wasn’t giving her any time to argue. The other two were close enough that she could hear their footfalls on the pavement.
“Two…”
She didn’t like the plan. She was the one with the gun and he was outnumbered. What if…?
“Three.”
Even as she stepped away and brought her revolver up, she angled her stance so that she could keep D.C. and the other two in her peripheral vision. Still she barely caught the flash of movement as the cane struck one of the young men in the arm. He yelped in pain.
“Hands up,” she said to the one who’d approached from behind. This close she could see he was young, not more than fifteen or sixteen.
“Whoa.” He threw his hands out in front of him as if to ward her off.
Out of the corner of her eye, Fiona saw the cane flash again. This time a startled cry was followed by the sound of something clattering to the sidewalk. Then the two men D.C. had used his cane on turned and fled.
“Don’t shoot, lady!” The young man she had her gun aimed at whirled and ran, too.
She pivoted around fully in time to see the other two disappear around the corner. Only then did she lower her weapon and slip it back into her purse.
“Good work,” D.C. said.
“No, it wasn’t.” Anger, relief and annoyance had her voice tightening. “I had the gun. And you were outnumbered.”
“All’s well that ends well.”
It was only then that she saw the revolver lying on the sidewalk. They’d been armed. She never should have agreed…Slipping a hanky out of her pocket, she bent down to retrieve the weapon. “We let them get away.”
“They were kids.”
“Kids with a gun.”
D.C. merely shrugged. “We’ve got it now, and they’ll think twice before they try their little snatch-and-run game again.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Relax. It’s Christmas. Don’t you believe in second chances?”
She met his eyes. “What I believe is that we need to lay down some ground rules if we’re going to work together.”
“I’m not big on rules.”
“I am.” Fiona whirled to pace three steps away. Though she had a temper, she prided herself on keeping it in check. When she thought she had it together, she turned back and bumped into him. In the instant before they separated, she felt the sear of flames at every contact point. The intensity of the sensation shocked her, and she wanted badly to turn and run. Ruthlessly, she clamped down on the impulse. “Let me put it this way. You’re army. You’re used to giving orders. Usually, I’m not so good at taking them.”
“Meaning?”
“I should have handled the two coming toward us. You should have taken the one who was alone. But you didn’t give me a chance to tell you that. We have very different styles.”
His expression sobered as he studied her. “I can’t change my style. But you’re right. Part of my job in the army is to give orders. I can work on that. I’d even be willing to take turns.”
She hadn’t expected him to admit anything. Since he had, she felt compelled to add. “In this case your particular style worked.”
His smile was slow and engaging. “Admit it. You’re really not annoyed because we scared them away instead of arresting them.”
She lifted her chin. “We have a bigger case to work on.”
“Agreed.” He took a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. They were still standing close together—nearly as close as they’d been when he’d pulled her to him. She felt that knife-edged longing begin to build again.
Above the tang of smoke in the air, she caught the scent of his soap. Basic and wonderfully male. All she had to do was move, take a tiny step forward, and she could experience again the hard press of his body against hers. Just thinking about it had the searing heat returning. Her gaze drifted to his mouth. His lips were thin and very masculine. They would be hard and demanding. And she relived that instant when all she’d wanted was to have his mouth pressed to hers.
“You’re worried about what’s going on between us,” he said.
Oh, yeah, she was worried about it in same distant corner of her mind that wasn’t consumed with the desire to frame his face with her hands and drag his mouth to hers.
“You’re wondering if it will interfere.”
It already was. It was interfering with her ability to think about anything but D. C. Campbell. A sudden surge of impatience helped her regain her balance, and she dragged her gaze away from his mouth. “We’re both adults. We can ignore what we’re feeling.”
The fingers toying with her hair moved to trace the line of her jaw. “I’m not so sure.”
As her pulse scrambled, then raced, Fiona once more found her mind in tune with his.
In a lightning-fast move, he thrust his fingers into her hair. “Why don’t we test the waters?” he asked as he covered her mouth with his.
Fiona froze as a riot of sensations flooded her system. Her blood pounded, her skin heated, her bones melted. One part of her mind