A Christmas Together (3 page)

A sense of absolute certainty hit him like a blow to the gut. If he didn’t go after this girl with everything he had, he’d be the biggest idiot of the Twenty-First Century.

She waved her palm in and out of his line of vision. “Hey. You okay? Did I say something classified by accident?”

She might have, but it wasn’t why he’d lost the ability to form sentences. “No. Yes. I’m not sure. You spooks are more anal about these things anyway. Not that I’m calling you anal…” He came close to clamping his hand over his mouth to stop the verbal diarrhea. “And no, I got recruited into the unit out of the Academy, probably because I grew up speaking Arabic. So I…err…do some of the kung fu stuff, too.”

She placed her chin in the cradle of her hands. “CIA people
are
kind of anal, myself included. So are your parents Syrian? I’m guessing from your skin tone, and the way your name is spelled.”

He’d known he had the hots of this woman. What he hadn’t expected was that he’d
like
her. “Nah. My deadbeat all-American Dad gave me the super dark tan. Mom’s Lebanese, and she’s as fair as they come.”

She pointed her nose at her half-filled coffee cup. “Do you want to try some?”

He tasted the saccharine concoction and winced. The drink was more artificial sweetener and milk than it was coffee. “Wow. This is really awesome.”

“The drink?”

Choking, he slid the container back to her side of the table. “No. Dating someone who knows what I do for a living.”

“This isn’t a date.”

“Sure it is.” He nodded for emphasis. “We’re in a public place at a table with two seats. I paid for your coffee.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If this is a date, what’s your next play?”

He hadn’t thought this through beyond “Hello,” which he’d forgotten to say. “Can I take you to,” he looked down at his watch, “breakfast?”

Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Her cheeks dimpled. “Where?”

He tried to recall his walk from the Metro station. “The burger joint down the street?” he hazarded, his fingers crossed the place had opened in the past twenty minutes.

“I don’t have a whole lot of experience, but I think you might be pretty bad at the whole hitting on women thing.”

“You figured this out now?” Having not engaged in many lengthy conversations with the opposite sex, he’d never crashed and burned on the verbal front with this much flair, or enjoyed female company more.

When she leaned forward, he mirrored her position. “I’m a picky eater,” she informed him in a stage whisper. “You need to come up with a better idea.”

“You must have made plans to do something before I showed up,” he murmured back. “What was it?”

She shook her head. “That won’t work. I was about to go to the farmer’s market to grab some groceries.”

He jumped up. “It totally works.”

“You want to shop for groceries with me?”

“I haven’t bought fresh food in ages. It’ll be fun.”

She swept him from head to toe with her gaze. “It’s a long walk. Aren’t you freezing in a T-shirt?”

“It’s a balmy forty degrees.” He pointed at the knee-length wool coat she’d draped over the back of her chair. “If you’re wearing this today, what happens when it starts snowing?”

“I hibernate.” She stood, reminding him of their difference in height. Without the high-heels she’d worn a few days ago, the top of her head didn’t even reach the center of his chest. “Are you sure you want to come? Shopping for organic locally-sourced veggies doesn’t seem like your thing.”

He grabbed her coat and held it up. “You’re cooking this stuff afterward, right?”

Turning, she slid her dainty little hands into the armholes. “Of course.”

When she swiveled around, he attempted what in his head approximated a charming grin, but chances were high he’d bared his teeth like a crocodile. “Am I invited?”

“To my apartment?”

He managed to keep the smile on his face. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“I deserve a kiss.”

Karl stood with his back against Brennan’s door. He’d overstayed his welcome a few hours ago, but his legs seemed to have grown roots on the tile. No part of him wanted to leave.

His host fluttered her blonde lashes. The thick fringes appeared cartoonish behind her oversized glasses. “You don’t deserve anything. I cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner. All you did was eat all my ice cream.”

This might not be the best time to ask why her ice cream was olive green, ball-shaped, covered in sticky dough, and had Japanese lettering on the packet. He focused on the argument he’d prepared while loading her dishwasher. “I spent twelve dollars on five tomatoes. Forking over the cash went against everything I believed in, but I did it to make you happy.”

“Those were heirloom tomatoes, and you admitted they tasted delicious.”

“Delicious, but not filling, which is why I compensated with dessert.” He decided not to comment on how the same tomatoes could have been purchased for half the price at the grocery store opposite her apartment. “I also paid an arm and a leg for wilted mushrooms.”

She cocked her head to the side. “That’s how shiitake mushrooms are supposed to look, and you scarfed them down with the quinoa risotto.”

He placed his palms on her shoulders. “Bree, you’re an excellent cook.”

Her brows arched.

“Considering you don’t own butter, you’re a fucking genius. But if this is going to work, you’ll need to explore this great place called Costco.” Though her spacious two-bedroom apartment, stainless steel appliances, and fifty-inch flat screen suggested the CIA paid a great deal better than the military, he had to object to her shopping habits out of sheer principal. No one should spend as much as she did on a home-cooked meal. He’d grown up watching his mother haggle for hours over a dollar’s worth of vegetables, which meant he’d learned young how not to get ripped off. Brennan veered in the extreme opposite direction. Judging from her expression, she might never have even heard of the wholesale supermarket he’d mentioned. “You do know what Costco is, right?”

She crossed her arms. “Of course I do. I choose to shop local. It’s better for the environment.”

He snorted. “Please. That’s a load of hippie bullshit, but we’ll have this debate later. For now, let me point out how well I behaved during the entire ordeal. Instead of laughing at the ridiculous prices or dragging you to a supermarket, I carried your bags and stayed quiet. Then I ran out to buy the wine you asked for even though it cost an arm and a leg. You ended up cooking with it.”

“If it’s not good enough to drink, it’s not good enough to eat.” Her brows furrowed—a facial expression he’d learned to interpret as quizzical rather than angry. “Are you this cheap about everything?”

The scent of rosemary and oregano wafted off her hair. The woman somehow managed to smell better after cooking than before. The list of things he liked about her had grown dangerously long. “For my admirable and uncharacteristic restraint while shopping, I’ve earned a reward.”

The corners of her mouth lifted. “You did. Three meals plus popcorn and dessert.”

He wondered if she’d noticed him placing his hand on her lower back. He waited half a second before pulling her closer. She had enough of a spine to stand her ground and argue, so if she objected, he doubted she’d stay quiet. Thus far, there’d been no indication she didn’t like the presumed intimacy. “I want more.”

Turning them both, he nudged her closer to the entryway wall. When he had her trapped, she tipped her head back. “I have a rule about not kissing on a first date.”

Unable to resist the temptation, he traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “By my calculation, we’re on our fifth date.”

“Talk about wonky math.”

Her lip balm glistened on his skin. She seemed addicted to it, which might explain why her mouth was the softest he’d ever touched. “We’ve spent over twelve hours together.”

“So?”

He smelled wine on her breath. She’d sipped less than half a glass, but the alcohol had nonetheless turned her face a gorgeous shade of pink. Entranced, he smoothed the back of his fingers over her warm cheek. “Our first date was the coffee shop, the second breakfast, and the third lunch. The god-awful DVD we watched puts me at four, and dinner makes it an even five.”

Cradling her nape, he angled her head to optimize exploration. Her eyes growing wide, she drew in a sharp breath. “I…I guess that’s about right.”

Sensing weakness, he shifted forward. “So you agree this kiss is overdue.”

“I wouldn’t go quite as far.”

He leaned down. “I’ll take however far are you’re willing to go.”

He waited until she parted her lips. Using his free hand, he nudged her glasses up until they rested on top of her head. As he brought his hands to her shoulders, he brushed the bridge of her nose with the tip of his. She blinked a few times, her eyes shifting as if she were struggling to focus. Her lower lip trembled, her expression turning vulnerable. It took a moment to realize she couldn’t see him clearly.

Capitalizing on the advantage, he followed the shape of her mouth with his tongue. Tremors reverberated under his palms as she lifted her hands and rested them on his upper arms. When he pushed her lips apart, a soft moan escaped her throat.

Their tongues tangled. Her fingers slid over his shoulders to interlace behind his neck. She arched her back. Her breasts flattened against his chest. He could feel her nipples harden through the thin barrier of their T-shirts. Emboldened by the physical cue, he claimed more.

Once he’d nibbled and sucked her lower lip, she reciprocated, mirroring his advances with a restrained precision that hinted at inexperience. Reaching for control, he released her shoulders to press his palms against the cold wall, using the lowered temperature to pull out of the lust-filled haze. When he broke the kiss, he found her lips ruby red, her chest rising and falling with each shallow pant. Clinging to the collar of his shirt, she rested her forehead between his pecs, her hot breath branding him through the cotton.

If he didn’t leave soon, he wouldn’t go at all. “What do you have planned for tomorrow?”

Lifting her chin, she slid her glasses back on. “I always keep Sundays free.”

“Good. I’ll come by at seven.”

“Seven?” she squeaked. “As in a.m.?”

Nodding, he grabbed the doorknob. He needed time to clear his head—to make sure he was ready for where this might lead. “Wear workout clothes. We’re going for a run.”

Her wispy hair whipped back and forth as she shook her head. “I don’t run. I don’t even own sneakers. I’m more of a Pilates type of girl.”

Caressing her cheek, he leapt into the carpeted hallway. “You’ll figure something out. See you tomorrow.”

* * * *

“Stop…I can’t…I need a break…”

Surprised her pounding heart hadn’t yet exploded, Brennan placed her hands on her knees and doubled over. The barely functioning part of her brain reminded her to stand straight and take deep breaths. Exhaustion won out. Gasping, she gulped small mouthfuls of air and closed her eyes. If she lifted her head right this instant, she might throw up.

Karl jogged in and out of her peripheral vision. He’d literally been running circles around her for the past ten minutes, and the dratted man hadn’t even broken a sweat. His much longer stride meant it took considerable effort to keep up with his slow jog. She’d never had any hope of matching his unrelenting pace. Words couldn’t describe how much the disparity in their physical fitness aggravated her.

“Perk up, sugar.” His taunting voice snaked through her consciousness, the effect approximating the sound of nails scratching a chalkboard. “We haven’t even done a mile.”

No way could that be accurate—not with her lungs on fire and her calves threatening to cramp. Pressing the pedometer setting on her wristwatch, she read the digital readout and growled, “We’ve covered 3.6 miles, asshat.”

He cupped the back of her head, his strong fingers massaging her nape. Then he gripped her shirt collar and yanked. Not giving her time to protest, he spanned her lower back with his free hand and pushed. Since complying demanded less energy than fighting, she managed to crest the hill.

Groaning with relief as they stopped under a shaded patch of pavement, her back met the wall of his chest. She closed her eyes and leaned back, using his body as leverage to remain upright. His hands closed over the sides of her neck, his callused palms heating her clammy skin as his thumbs dug into her shoulder blades. With a purr of pure bliss, she sank into his hold. Her muscles relaxed, her limbs threatening to soften into a jelly-like consistency.

Then she made the mistake of tilting her head back and lifting her lids. Recognizing the possessive gleam in his jasper eyes, her nerve endings tingled with awareness. Trapped within a warm masculine cocoon, her lungs filled with the salty scent of sweat muted by a hint of mint. Memories of last night’s kiss exploded over her exhausted haze. She remembered those lips devouring her mouth, those hardened hands tensing against her body. Arousal curled in the pit of her stomach, making her inner muscles clench with an insatiable hunger.

It served her right for going years without bothering to have sex. Straightening, she stepped forward and faced him. “Umm…I’m okay now. Thanks.”

A smug smile on his face, he captured her chin with two fingers. “I’m not.”

It didn’t seem possible, but she’d somehow forgotten how to swallow. “I…We ran more than a mile.”

He grabbed her wrist, turning her arm so he could glance at the digital readout. “These things overestimate.” Instead of letting her go, he adjusted his grip and laced his fingers with hers. “For someone who never runs, you sure own a lot of gadgets.”

Needing to occupy her free hand with some sort of task, she adjusted the sweatband that had long since failed to keep hair out of her face. “I use it to count how far I
walk
. It also tells me how many extra calories I’m allowed.”

Starting to jog once more, he dragged her with him. “Think about all the things you can eat after we get to Georgetown.”

She almost tripped. “I refuse to run to a different state.”