Nalini Singh - The Magical Christmas Cat

"How long have you lived here?"

"Last five years. I moved in after I got the teaching job."

"Did you live at home before that?"

She laughed through the thudding beat of her pulse. "Lord, no. I was outta there at eighteen."

"You ever get lonely, Annie?" he asked, his tone liquid heat over her skin.

"I like living alone. I intend to keep it that way." She thought she'd surprised him with that, but instead of replying, he lifted up the bag and raised an eyebrow. It was a dare. Annie had never con­sidered herself particularly courageous, but she walked around the counter. He nodded at her to take the stool beside his.

Knowing it would be silly to refuse, she got up, rubbing her thigh with one hand. He noticed. "It hurt today?"

"What?" She looked down. "Oh, no, not really. It's habit." It was always a little achy in the mornings. "So, breakfast?"

His eyes went cat on her between one instant and the next. She sucked in a breath at the intensity of that green-gold gaze. "Wow."

He smiled. "Let's play a game."

She had a feeling that playing with this big kitty cat was a very bad idea, but since she'd already given in to her insanity, she said, "What're the rules?"

"Close your eyes. Eat what I give you, and tell me what it is."

The notion of having him feed her had her heart racing at the speed of light. "What do I get if I guess correctly?"

"Mystery prize." His lashes lowered, and she thought she caught a glimpse of something edgy, something that blazed with raw male heat, but when he looked back up, there was nothing but amuse­ment in those leopard eyes. "Yes?"

"Yes." She watched mesmerized as he opened the paper bag with those hands she wanted to have all over her.

"Close your eyes, sweetheart."

She swallowed hunger of a far different sort and let her lashes flutter down. It made her even more aware of the scent of him, the warmth of him, the sheer presence of him. When he shifted posi­tion to put one of his feet on the outside of her stool, effectively trapping her, she opened her mouth to tell him . . . something.

But his finger brushed over her lips. "Taste."

He was all around her, in her blood, in her breath. Losing her train of thought, she closed her teeth over the pastry he put to her lips. The flaky stuff just about melted in her mouth, and she licked her lips without thinking about it.

Zach seemed to go very still, but when he spoke, his words were light. "Guess?"

"Danish."

"Wrong." She went to open her eyes, but he said, "No, keep them shut."

"Why?"

"I'm going to give you another shot. Right now, you owe a sin­gle forfeit. Let's see if we can even the decks."

"Forfeit?" She wondered why the thought sent excitement arc­ing through her. "You never said anything about a forfeit."

"You never asked."

As she'd thought—playing with this cat was an invitation to trouble. "Now I am."

"Later. First, taste this." He put something else to her mouth, and she bit down, determined to get it this time—he sounded far too delighted by the idea of having her owe him a forfeit.

She smiled. "Blueberry muffin."

A finger brushed over her lips, making her eyes snap open. "A crumb," he said.

"Oh."

He didn't smile this time, watching her with an intensity that reminded her that for all his playfulness, he was a DarkRiver soldier. And DarkRiver controlled the greater San Francisco area. More than that, they were allied with the bloodthirsty SnowDancer wolves.

"What're you thinking?" he asked her.

"That you're dangerous."

"Not to you," he said. "I wouldn't bite unless you asked very nicely."

Heat flooded her cheeks at the teasing promise, and she was more than glad to hear the coffeemaker ping. "Coffee's done, I'll grab it."

He let her go, but she had a feeling the game had only just be­gun. And that she was the prey.

Zach wanted to groan in frustration as he watched Annie move about the kitchen. He'd come within an inch of kiss­ing the life out of her when she'd licked her lips. Perfect, luscious, bitable lips. He'd resisted the temptation for two reasons. One, the cat liked the chase. And two, the man liked the idea of having An­nie melt at his touch. He planned to seduce her until she purred for him.

"Coffee." She put a cup in front of him, and he took a sip, at­tempting to behave when what he really wanted to do was haul her close and just take. Patience, he told himself. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Annie with the wild fury of his hunger.

"It's good." Sighing in appreciation, he passed her the muffin and a flaky croissant with a chocolate center. "The reason for your forfeit."

She scowled at the pain au chocolat. "So do the win and loss cancel each other out?"

"No. I'll collect my forfeit." His eyes drifted to her lips and lin­gered there. "A kiss, Annie. You owe me a kiss."

Her lips parted, her breath whispering out in a soft gasp. "And"—she coughed—"my winnings?"

"I'll give them to you later today." He wanted to drink up the scent of her, spiced as it was by the seduction of her growing arousal. However that arousal was nowhere near enough to satiate the sav­agery of his own need. But the cat was a patient hunter. By the time this day was through, he planned to have coaxed and tempted Annie Kildaire until she was as desperate for him as he was for her. "Now eat, or we'll be late."

She nibbled at her croissant, shooting him quick glances as he finished off the bagel he'd bought for himself. "When are you going to . . . collect?" she asked afterward, clearing away the cups with feminine efficiency that failed to mask her responsive awareness.

"I've got all day." He slid off the stool and smiled. "Ready?"

"You look very much the cat when you smile that way," she said. "You're enjoying teasing me."

He walked over and took the basket she'd picked up from the small table in one corner. "What's this?"

"I packed a couple of things for the picnic, and some snacks for the ride."

He peeked in. "Chocolate cake?"

"Chocolate mud cake," she said, with an adorable note of pride that made him want to claim his forfeit then and there. "I made it last night, gave it time to settle."

"You'll be Sascha's new best friend." Leaning in, he brushed his lips over her ear. "And yes, Teach, I like teasing you."

Annie still hadn't gotten over the sensation of his lips on her skin as Zach pulled away from her ground-floor apartment and out into the street. Open sexual heat laced his teasing, but she wasn't sure quite how far he'd take it. If he pushed, would she surrender?

The temptation was blindingly strong. Not only was he beauti­ful in the most masculine way, she flat out liked him. Being with Zach, if only for a night, would be, she already knew, a delight. He wouldn't be the least bit selfish, she thought. His partner's pleasure would matter to him. And, given his nature, he wasn't likely to want any kind of a commitment.

It was perfect.

Yet Annie found herself hesitating. Already, she reacted to him more deeply than she had to any other man her entire life. What would it do to her to sleep with him, to know him that inti­mately . . . then watch him walk away? Her mind flicked to a slide show of images. They were all of one woman. A woman with years of disappointment in her eyes.

"Look."

She jerked up at the sound of his voice. "What?"

"There." He pointed out the windshield.

Her eyes widened at the parade of old-fashioned automobiles on the other side of the road, all huge bodies and gleaming paint. They were so old they had no hover capacity, but there was something very sexy about them. "They look amazing. I wonder where they're going?"

"I read something about a vintage-car show about a twenty-minute drive from here. We could swing by after the picnic today."