climbed in behind her. Suddenly it was all too close and too tight and he was too large to share such an enclosed space. Her heart thudded against her ribs. But she could hardly leap up and jump out of the carriage simply because they were now sitting shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, even though that minimal contact sent heat surging through her.
She gritted her teeth and looked in the other direction. Their guide spread a blanket over their laps. A half roof, similar to that of a convertible, with “windows” cut into each side, sheltered them from the wet stuff.
Then the driver climbed onto his seat and took up the reins and with a quiet “Heyya,” they were off.
It was like being transported someplace magical where green boughs hung low beneath the weight of white powder and the lights of the city were a far and distant place in the future. A quixotic blend of lassitude and longing stole through her.
Cole turned his head, which brought his mouth a mere inch or so from hers. “Cozy? Warm enough?”
She shifted slightly, enough to put a gap between them. “Toasty. Thanks.”
“You know, I think I’ve finally figured you out,” Cole said.
“Really? Please enlighten me.”
“You want to kiss me.”
She tried not to sputter. “You’re delusional.”
“You can’t add that to your long list of my sins.” The look in his blue eyes filled her with a delicious heat. “Why else would you sit under mistletoe?”
“I didn’t, Mr. Half-Baked Brain.” She glanced up. Sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe hung suspended from the carriage top above them. “Let me remind you, this was your idea.” Precisely. That was the other thing she’d seen him hand the driver.
“Are you implying I want to kiss you?” he said.
“I’m not implying anything.” A woman could drown in the depths of his eyes. “I’m saying it outright. I’m stating it so your simple mind can grasp it. You planned this.” She wasn’t sure whether she was annoyed at his manipulation or flattered.
“Just because I dream about your mouth at night, how it would feel…” He skimmed his fingertip along the bow of her upper lip and she nearly forgot to breathe. His voice was low and seductive in the cocoon of their carriage. “How it would taste…” He traced the seam of her mouth and she felt his touch all the way to her toes. “Is not proof that I would deliberately manipulate you under a sprig of mistletoe. I’m not that kind of guy.”
She nipped the tip of his finger between her teeth. “You’re exactly that kind of guy.”
“Then I might as well live down to your expectations.” He reached beneath her hair and cupped her neck in his hand. She could easily pull away, protest, but-God help her-she just wanted to kiss him. Once.
The air was cold and his mouth was warm and she kissed him back.
“Tatiana,” he murmured her name against her mouth and fisted his hand in her hair. Then he kissed her again and she realized she’d been wrong. She wanted-no, desperately needed-more than one of his kisses. She pressed closer to him, hungry for his warmth. Her tongue met his in a languorous sweep, and she was drowning in the sensation of cold air bracing her skin and the heat of his mouth.
Kissing Cole was like a stiff measure of brandy that warmed her from within and made her nearly drunk from the pleasure. Sweet, hot desire pooled between her thighs and left her breasts feeling full and aching for his touch. Instinctively she shifted and he pulled her nearer beneath the blanket.
They might have gone on kissing for…well, who knew for how long if the carriage hadn’t rocked to a stop, and Tatiana realized she was half sitting on his lap. Her body hummed like a finely tuned instrument ready to be played. If she was a Stradivarius, there was no mistaking the hard press of his bow next to her hip.
Tatiana blinked her eyes open. She scooted off his lap. Ostensibly they were back where they’d started, except she knew with a surety they’d never be back where they’d started.
The air’s chill seeped into her. If they hadn’t been in a public place, she wouldn’t have stopped. Desire and promise simmered in his gaze. He wouldn’t have stopped either. She felt it and she knew he did, too. It was there in his eyes. The next time was inevitable and they’d finish what they’d started tonight. This had satisfied nothing. Instead it had aroused a ravening hunger in her for the touch of his hands, the taste of his skin, the exquisite slide of him inside her.
Cole appeared all too satisfied with himself. “I told you you wanted to kiss me.”
She reached above them, tweaked down the mistletoe and dropped it in his lap.
“Well, darling, if you insist…You certainly won’t get any resistance from me.” His grin was sheer arrogant wickedness.
She offered him the sweetest smile she could muster. “If I wanted to kiss you, I wouldn’t need a piece of greenery to do it.”
She stepped past him and the driver handed her down.
It might not have been the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but it was a damn good exit line.
Chapter 7
Cole plopped into his seat in the Circle of Love. Friday afternoon. The final gift exchange. And he’d damn near missed it. He’d ditched work this morning because he’d decided on a new final Secret Santa gift for Tatiana after their carriage ride last night. He’d been ready to toss in the towel when he’d finally found what he was looking for. Whew! He’d barely made it back in time.
He bit back a smirk. She’d know without a doubt who had given her this gift. And without a doubt, she wouldn’t reveal him as her Secret Santa. He looked around. Everyone was here except her.
Melvin beamed at the crowd. “Well, it’s time to open the final gifts-”
Cole interrupted. “Hold on. Aren’t we going to wait for Tatiana?”
“She’s already left for the day,” Elle said.
But he’d caught a glimpse of her early this morning. “What?”
“Yeah. She thought she was coming down with something so she left,” Elle explained.
Melvin rubbed at his balding spot. “Yeah. I meant to tell you earlier, but I got hung up on something else. You only have that final restaurant visit tonight. She asked if you could do it separately and e-mail the reviews in. That’s the new plan.”
“What’s wrong with her?” He felt a foreign sense of panic that she was ill.
“She thought it might be the flu and didn’t want to make everyone sick for the holiday weekend.”
Andi spoke up. “I’m sorry she’s sick, but thank God she didn’t stay and spread germs. I’ve got twenty people coming for dinner on Sunday. Getting the flu would be a disaster at this point.”
The gift exchange wasn’t nearly as much fun without Tatiana there. He’d so looked forward to throwing her off balance with his gift. And he hated to think of her at home, all alone and sick.
He retrieved his gift and opened it. He’d begun to think his Secret Santa might just be Ms. Snippy herself, but this blew that theory to hell. Someone had baked him homemade cookies. He’d had cookies from a bakery any number of times, but his mother or any of the subsequent steps had never been of the cookie-baking variety. He pulled off the plastic cling film and inhaled deeply. Ah, a hint of almond. Slightly brown around the edges. It was quite possibly the nicest gift anyone had ever given him.
He knew a moment of intense possessiveness. No one had ever done this for him before, and he wanted to save them, hoard them as his own. But it was Christmas and he was thirty, not three, so he offered the plate around and everyone except Misha, who struggled to control his diabetes, took one. Finally he took one for himself. He bit into it. Perfect. And he still had about half a dozen left.
After the exchange, everyone began to pack up to go home. The day’d been pretty much a blow-off anyway. Melvin had dismissed the department with holiday wishes. Tatiana’s gift sat pathetically alone on the now-empty table next to the rosemary topiary.
Elle began moving the chairs back to where they belonged. Cole pitched in to help.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m trying to get out of here as soon as possible.”
“No problem.” She was gorgeous, but he’d never been interested in asking her out, even before her
