Christmas in His Bed: Talking in Your Sleep... / Unwrapped / Kiss & Tell. Carrie Alexander
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it’s just … I don’t know what it is, but it’s not a big deal. Believe me.”
“Then why deny it so much? Why not just laugh it off?”
“It was embarrassing.”
“I would have understood. I told you, it keeps me up at night. I know about sleep problems. I know how difficult it can be. But you know, for the last night or two, it kept me awake for completely different reasons.”
“Because you wanted to tape me and prove you were right.”
“In part. But also because you’re turning me on, to be honest. I kind of like being in your dreams.”
He thought a little flirting might help, but saw the disbelief and fury flash in her eyes. He took a step back as she took a step forward. Bad move, Raphael.
“How dare you?” she shrieked, then she turned and stomped away from him, her shoes squeaking from the water, one heel sticking into the lawn and pulling from her foot altogether. She didn’t even stop to pick it up. Her bad day was his fault, even if he’d never meant for it to happen that way.
“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath. “Joy!” he called out, not wanting to leave things this way. “Hey, come back. Let’s talk this out.”
She kept walking to her car, grabbed her bag out, and didn’t even cast a dirty look in his direction as she marched up the steps and through the front door.
“Well, that went badly,” he said, slamming his hand down on the hood and then checking to make sure he hadn’t dented Warren’s car.
She’d said she hadn’t gotten fired, but apparently someone had heard that tape who shouldn’t have. He ran a hand over his face. While he’d never anticipated anything like that happening, he did share in the blame. After all, he’d made the tape and left it there, watched her take it to work. He’d guessed either she’d ignore it or listen to it when she got home, but that was no excuse. He’d screwed up big-time.
He had to find a way to make it up to her. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t let things stay as they were. When she’d stood there, furious and crying, it had been all he could do not to cross the driveway and take her in his arms, wipe away her tears.
He didn’t know why the impulse was so strong—if he felt guilty, if he was really attracted to her, or just responding to her sexy nighttime chat. Either way, he knew he had to try to make things right. Maybe earn another chance with her.
Most of his talents included life-saving techniques of some sort, and he’d never been accused of being the most romantic guy in the world. As he’d learned from the women in his household, when a guy screwed up this badly, comfort was a big necessity. With that thought, he knew exactly what to do.
5
JOY LEFT HER SOAKED, wrinkled blue suit on the bathroom floor. Demoralized by the day and by breaking down in front of Rafe when she’d meant instead to be cool and intimidating, she stood in the shower relishing the feel of the hot water pounding down on her. In spite of the warm weather outside, the sweltering soak was good. Her muscles were more relaxed, and her headache had receded somewhat.
She reassured herself the office gossip would quickly pass. As soon as something new came along, this incident would be forgotten—that was how office environments worked. If she made herself scarce, she’d weather the storm. She wasn’t used to being the subject of office gossip because she tried to be professional in every way. She’d always gotten along with everyone, and didn’t make a spectacle of herself at parties or public events, and then today she’d done so in spades.
She closed her eyes as the thought triggered an awful reminder: the office Christmas party was next week, the day before they closed for the holiday.
Great. It was like never-ending torture. She always hated the Christmas party; the food was bad, everyone drank too much, and Ken always insisted everyone stay until the end to exchange their gifts.
She hadn’t even picked up a gift for her “secret Santa” contribution, and she wasn’t sure what to get. She’d pick up a gift certificate to one of the local stores or restaurants. It was a safe, neutral gift that someone might actually use—unlike the sensual massage kit for two that she’d somehow garnered the year before. It still sat boxed up in the closet.
Wrapped in a thick terry robe, she searched the kitchen, realizing she didn’t have any ice cream or much junk food around at all, but neither did she want to go to the store, so she settled for a bowl of cereal. Plopping down in front of the television, she clicked through the channels, groaning as Christmas shows, Christmas music, Christmas ads appeared on every single one of them.
It was insanity. Couldn’t they broadcast a show that wasn’t about Christmas? There were millions of people like her, sane people who didn’t celebrate the holiday.
She clicked off the television, opting to read for a while instead. She searched for the romance novel she’d been consuming in bits and chunks for what seemed to be forever, never sitting down with it long enough to get to the end. She needed a happy ending right now and was determined to enjoy the one between the pages.
The room darkened, and as she reached for the light by the side of the sofa, she blinked at the flash of red then green on the wall opposite where she sat. At first she thought it might be a fire engine, but the green flash killed that thought. Walking to her front window, she saw the house across the street blinking and flashing madly, twinkling its Christmas cheer right into her dark windows.
She couldn’t escape. It was everywhere.
In the blinking red-and-green assault, she saw the shadow of a figure turn up her walk, heading to her porch. She frowned, squinting to see as the figure came closer.
“Unbelievable!” she huffed, sliding away from the window. There was no way she was dealing with this man again—ever.
The anticipated knock came, softly at first, then louder. He rang the bell, once, not giving up.
She stood still, silent, only breathing when he turned and she heard his footsteps walk away.
Her shoulders relaxed and she grabbed her book from the table, trying to escape the flashing lights by retreating to her bedroom. She’d cuddle up in bed and read, away from everyone. She took off her robe and crawled in under the cotton blanket, not bothering with a nightgown.
Relaxing, finally, she settled back to open her book when some delectable aroma drifted through the window. Her stomach grumbled, clearly not satisfied with her bowl of cereal.
“Joy?”
She heard his voice and clutched the sheet, tugging it up close under her chin. She parted the curtains, peering through the crack—he was right there, right under her window. She turned off the light so he couldn’t see her.
“Joy, I know you’re in there. I want to talk—to apologize. Will you let me do that?”
She didn’t say anything, obsessed with the fact that he was only a few feet away from where she lay stark naked underneath a sheet in her bed, and while she wanted to be angry, her nipples pebbled against the soft fabric, warmth invading the space between her legs at the sound of his voice—this time it wasn’t in her dreams.
“What do you want?” she snapped, disturbed at her own physical response. “Go away.”
“No, not until you let me apologize correctly. I made you something. Let me bring it over—you can’t be going to bed yet, it’s only seven.”
“I’m tired. I had a hard day, as you know,” she said accusingly.
“I know. Don’t you even want to know what I made for you?”
She blew out a breath, gathering the sheet up double and yanking the curtain aside. There he was, standing below her window like a beach-boy Romeo with his sexy eyes and ruffled hair. However, he wasn’t offering