Holiday Heat (6 page)

He grunted at
her caress. “Yeah. I didn’t think ahead very far. Unless—”

She never knew
what alternative he would have offered because she kept massaging him until his
body tightened palpably, and he stifled a groan of release.

Then she
stepped back, feeling ridiculously proud of herself for making him lose it that
way.

 When he saw
her expression, he narrowed his eyes—although his face was flushed and replete.
“Don’t say it,” he warned.

 She felt a
swell of affection. Couldn’t help but wrap her arms around him in a hug.

He hugged her
back, and her chest began to ache as his arms tightened. She half-expected the
embrace to turn sexual again, but it didn’t.

She felt
awkward and confused when she finally pulled away. She smoothed out the
wrinkled black dress. “I think I’d better buy this one, after the uses we put
it to.” She pushed past the strange feelings. “It’s on sale anyway, so it works
better with my budget.”

He nodded
toward the red dress, hanging neatly on a hook. “Then I’m going to buy you this
one.” When she opened her mouth to object, he went on, “No arguments.”

She shrugged,
figuring he could afford it and she could consider it a Christmas gift. “All
right. I’ll get both.”

As Carrie got
dressed into her street clothes, she said, “Now there’s no way you can argue
that we’re having a sleazy affair.”

He frowned.
“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s
obviously a sleazy affair when we can’t even go shopping without having sex in
the dressing room. With us, it’s always all about the sex.” She was saying the
words mostly to remind herself, since she didn’t really like the sound of them.

Matt’s face
looked strange for a moment, but a teasing smile appeared before she could identify
the other expression. “If I’d known you would use it to define our entire
relationship, I would have resisted the way you came on to me just now.”

She sputtered.
“Hey!
You
came on to
me
!”

“Whatever you
say.”

She glared but
decided not to dignify his blatant lie with a response. She slipped out of the
stall, feeling raunchy and rather embarrassed at having done what they’d done
in a dressing room.

Matt, on the
other hand, looked perfectly composed. He blithely presented the dresses to a
cashier and handed the woman a credit card to pay for them.

Carrie was too
distracted to even notice that he was paying for both of them. She felt like
everyone who walked by must know what she’d been up to.

When she
glanced over at Matt, she saw him smiling at her with an expression that now
looked almost tender.

“What is it?”
she asked self-consciously.

“I love it when
you look like this,” he murmured, a possessive gleam in his eyes.

Carrie knew
exactly what he was talking about. She raised her palm to one of her cheeks.

It was hot.

Carrie twirled in front of her
mirror, scanning over her body in the red dress. She looked fabulous, the
slinky fabric skimming the contours of her figure and the elegant color making
her skin and eyes look vibrant.

She’d twisted
her hair up in a clip and slipped on her best pair of heels, so she was all
ready to go.

But she didn’t
really want to.

She felt sad
and sick and lonely. A little part of her wanted Henry. But even more of her
wanted Matt.

This truth made
her confused and guilty and almost paralyzed with anxiety about what she’d
gotten herself into, but she pushed the tangled feelings away.

She gave
herself a pep talk, telling herself that Jenn and her boyfriend would be at the
party, so she could at least talk to them. She didn’t have to stay long. She
would make an appearance and make sure her family knew she was all right. Then
she could leave.

So she blew out
a breath and picked up her clutch before she headed down to the street to hail
a taxi.

She’d just
stepped out of the building when a chauffeured car pulled up to the curb.

Carrie stared,
her mouth falling open.

She was still
gaping when a window rolled down in the backseat and Matt’s familiar, scarred
head appeared over the descending tinted glass. “Very nice,” he drawled,
evidently hiding a smile as his eyes lingered on her body.

“What are you
doing here?” she demanded, when she finally found her voice.

“Do you want a
ride?”

Carrie
mindlessly got into the car when he opened the door, feeling flustered and
bewildered. “What are you doing here?” she repeated, after she gave the driver
the address.

Matt smiled,
looking both amused and something she could only describe as fond. “I thought
you might want an escort.” He was dressed, she noticed belatedly, in a black
suit. She’d never seen him in a suit before.

“But—”

“If not, I can
just drop you off.”

“But—”

“You look
gorgeous, by the way. The dress was definitely a wise investment on my part.”

Carrie flushed
a little more at the flare of heat in his eyes. “Thank you. But, Matt, are you
serious? You want to come to the party with me?”

He gave a
slight shrug. “Why not? I haven’t gone to a party in two years, and I could use
some holiday spirit.”

“So you’re
going to be my date tonight?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the inexplicable
idea.

“If you’ll have
me.” There was something strange in his eyes—almost like vulnerability.

She swallowed
hard. “Yeah. I’ll have you.”

Matt smiled,
and Carrie smiled back. Then she looked around the expensive car. “So you
couldn’t even spring for a limo?”

He laughed
warmly, uninhibitedly, the way he hardly ever did. She loved the sound of it.

When they
reached her aunt’s place, she was feeling ridiculously happy—the tangled
confusion crammed tightly into a safe corner of her mind. As she was getting out
of the car, however, she felt a clench of anxiety.

“Are you sure
it’s all right?” she asked, grabbing his arm. “Someone might recognize you, and
then there might be stories about Matthew Lynch—”

Matt shrugged
with a half-smile. “So there might be stories. It’s no big deal.”

“And you know
they’re all going to think… I mean, I haven’t dated anyone for a year, so
they’re going to think that my bringing you here means—”

“I couldn’t
care less what they think. If you want, tell them you dug me up just for someone
to bring to the party.”

For some
reason, his dry tone made her giggle.

“What’s so
funny?” he demanded.

“Nothing. It’s
just that you’re not exactly the kind of guy a girl would just dig up for an
acceptable date to a family party.” Matt was more like dream-date material. She
never would have had the courage to ask him out had she run into him in any
normal way.

“What does that
mean?” To her surprise, he actually sounded offended. “I can be an acceptable
date.”

“What are you
getting all grouchy about? I just meant you’re too good to be dug up from the
bottom of the heap.”

“Oh.” His
expression relaxed. “That’s all right then.”

She couldn’t
help but giggle again at his quickly changing emotions. He was definitely an
artist. “Now you’re all pleased with yourself again. I’ve never met a man with
such pomposity.”

He slid his
hand down her spine and kept it at the small of her back as he walked with her
to the front door. “What did you say I have?”

“Pomposity.”

“I’m not sure
that’s really a word.”

“Of course it is.
It’s the state of being pompous. Look it up. The dictionary will cross-list the
word with ‘Matthew Lynch’.”

He was still
chuckling as they entered.

Carrie didn’t
know what she expected, but their entrance wasn’t dramatic or remarkable. They
were greeted by her aunt. When Matt introduced himself as “Matt,” her aunt
didn’t even blink, although the look on her face made it clear that she would
be calling Carrie’s mom with this news the first free moment she had.

Jenn and her
boyfriend hadn’t yet arrived, so they mingled for a while with other guests.
Most of them were a lot older than Carrie and Matt, so they didn’t have much in
common. After about an hour, Carrie started to get bored and restless.  They’d
made the rounds, and her sister still hadn’t shown up.

Matt slipped an
arm around her waist. “Ready to go?” he murmured into her ear. He smelled
faintly of red wine, a top note to his characteristic warm scent.

“Yes, please.”
She was grateful he’d read her mind. “Let’s slip out before we get trapped in
another conversation about the stock market.”

They went to
thank her aunt, and she let out a long breath as they left. It was cooler now
than it had been a week ago, but it was still unseasonably warm for December.
She could feel a little trail of perspiration start to bead between her
shoulder blades.

“All right?”
Matt asked, his eyes resting thoughtfully on her face.

She wasn’t sure
what he was asking, but her answer was the same to any question. “Yeah. Just
hungry.” The cocktail nibbles at the party had been tasty but not nearly
enough.

“Then let’s get
some dinner.” Matt stepped over to open the back door to the car the waiting
driver had just pulled up to the curb.

Carrie had no
objection to such a plan, and she didn’t even ask herself why he’d suggested
it. They’d never gone out for dinner before, but it seemed a natural thing to
do tonight.

And she wasn’t
quite ready for the evening to end.

Matt took her
to an out-of-the-way restaurant—quiet and candle-lit. The food was delicious,
and the ambience romantic and continental. The room was far too warm, and
Carrie drank too much wine. Matt told clever, funny stories about places he’d
traveled and asked her about her childhood. So, by the time they were brought
the most delicious crème brûlée she’d ever tasted, Carrie was giddy,
red-cheeked, and a little bit buzzed.

Two and a half
hours after they’d been seated, they got up to leave.

Carrie swayed
on her feet, a rush of dizziness overtaking her. She laughed sheepishly as Matt
gave her his arm for support and felt strangely protected as they walked
outside together.

The evening was
mild and beautiful, and the city was festively lit with holiday lights. “Let’s
walk a little,” she suggested, twirling a circle without thinking as she gazed
up at the city around her. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

“Sounds good to
me.” Matt’s voice was natural, but the tone held a warm resonance she almost
recognized.

When the
familiar note sank into her slightly befuddled brain, she blinked up at him
suspiciously. Her suspicions were confirmed by the slight tilt of his lips.

She gasped.
“You’re laughing at me!”

He laughed out
loud. “Never.”

“You are too.
I’m not drunk,” she pronounced. “Just a little buzzed.”

“A fine state
of intoxication,” Matt agreed, nodding supportively and reaching around her
waist to give her a fond half-hug.

She gave him
dirty looks, still dubious over the humor on his face but not able to think
clearly enough to pin down any direct affront.

They walked
toward one of the city parks and stopped to hear a group of carolers singing
Christmas songs. Despite the overly warm temperature, it conjured up a whiff of
holiday spirit in Carrie, which was intensified by the festive lights adorning
the trees and light posts in the park.

She applauded
enthusiastically at the end of the fourth carol, and Matt left a surprisingly
large bill in the tip jar earmarked for charity.

When they
started to stroll again, Carrie heard someone humming “Carol of the Bells.” It
took her a minute to figure out it was her.

She didn’t know
many of the words, but she made appropriate noises and sometimes hit the right
key. Then a pleasant baritone joined her, and she gazed up at delight at Matt,
who was singing what were obviously the correct words. She tried to sing with
him as they walked, and they even tried some parts at the end. It wasn’t a very
successful attempt, but Carrie was pleased nonetheless.

As they
finished, she clapped her hands and impulsively gave Matt a hug.

He hugged her
back, holding her tighter and harder than she expected. But he felt
wonderful—firm and strong and substantial against her—and she didn’t see any
reason to end the embrace.

They’d kissed a
lot over the last three months. They’d caressed each other. Explored each other
intimately. And they’d screwed. A lot.

But they hadn’t
hugged very much.

When she
finally pulled away, her buzz was starting to wear off, but a soft languor
still remained. Grinning, she said in an ironic voice she hoped would cut the
odd mood, “Who would have thought that Matthew Lynch and his hard edge would
like to sing Christmas carols?”

“I bet there’s
a lot about me that you don’t know.” His words were bland, but his eyes
lingered with a strange intensity on her face, reminding her of the first night
they’d met.

Carrie looked
away, a little flustered. “That’s probably true.”

They walked in
silence for a few minutes until Matt finally asked, “Are you ready to go home?”

She wasn’t
really ready. She didn’t want to leave Matt. They never went home with each
other. If she went home, she would do so alone.

***

Matt said nothing about spending
the night during the drive home, so Carrie felt uncomfortable asking.

She wasn’t
worried that he would laugh or reject the suggestion to spend the night with
her. Rather, she was embarrassed about admitting to herself that she wanted him
to.

After so many
months of being convinced—absolutely, utterly convinced—that she would never
feel for anyone this way after Henry, here she was feeling this way for Matt.

When Matt had
never said a word about wanting her for anything but sex.

So she was
wrapped up in her thoughts for most of the drive, and she jerked in surprise
when the driver pulled the car in front of a building she’d never seen before.
“Where are we?” she asked, peering out the window. It was an older neighborhood,
and there was a little park across the street, so it was obvious these
apartments were way beyond her budget.

“This is my
place.”

“Oh.” She
blinked, trying to figure out what was going on and wishing she hadn’t drunk so
much, since her head was still a little fuzzy.

“I wasn’t
paying attention, but I can tell him to take us back to your place, if you’d
rather.”

“You want me to
come up?” Her heart fluttered wildly, and she wasn’t sure if it was from fear
or excitement.

“You can, if
you want.”

“Are you…are
you sure?” They’d always spent nights in hotels. Her coming to his place felt
like a gigantic leap beyond their boundaries.

His eyes were
sharp with scrutiny as they scanned her face, as if he were seeking an answer
for her stuttering bewilderment. Then his expression relaxed, the corner of his
mouth quirking up. “Have I ever shown myself reluctant to spend the night with
you?”

His implication
was true, without question. But this was
his
bed,
his
apartment.

Evidently
reading her mind, Matt added, more gently, “We can find a hotel room if you’d
prefer. Or I can just take you home.”

Carrie didn’t
prefer. She wanted to go upstairs with him. It just made her incredibly
nervous. “No,” she murmured, slanting him a smile she hoped was flirtatious
rather than terrified. “Here’s good.”

They went up to
his apartment without speaking. Inside, Matt offered her a drink, and she
gratefully accepted a bottle of water.

His apartment
had high ceilings, historical detail, huge windows, and wide-plank hardwood
floors. There was an eclectic mix of art on the walls, but none of the
paintings were his own work.

Carrie looked
around in silence.

“Well?” Matt
demanded, after a minute.

She released a
breath of laughter. “I like it. It looks like you.”

“How does it
look like me?”

“It’s gorgeous
and creative and sexy and…I don’t know…really smart.”

He appeared
surprised and pleased with her conclusion, but he covered it with familiar
irony. “How exactly can an apartment be smart?”

“It just is.”
She chugged down some of the water, wiping away a little that dribbled onto her
chin.

He was watching
her with that look of intense scrutiny, like he was reading too many of her
thoughts and feelings. “Then my apartment looks like you too.”

“What? I’m not
as smart as you.”