Jill Shalvis - Kiss Me, Katie! & Hug Me, Holly!

“Holly looks prettier,” she noted, still walking at nearly the speed of light. “If you tell her so, she’ll probably be so flattered you’ll be able to grope her back this time.”

“What?” He stopped to gape at her, but all that accomplished was to allow her to outdistance him. Her hips and sweet rear end were really moving now. Running to catch back up, he grabbed her arm to slow her down and turned her to face him.

“I said, if you tell her so,” she repeated dutifully. “You might-”

“I heard that part!” He must have missed something here. Katie’s face, usually calm, flashed annoyance, anger, even embarrassment.

The lightbulb finally clicked on in his dimwitted brain. “Holly told you about what she did-”

“No, I saw what she did, when she dropped my papers and I went under the table. I saw her foot-And then you- Oh, you know!”

Yeah, he knew. “Don’t you see what’s happening?” He was disturbed that she really didn’t appear to. And even more disgusted that it mattered so much to him. Since when did he care what people thought?

But he cared what she thought, he realized, and figured he’d dwell on that shocking fact later. “You saw exactly what Holly wanted you to.”

“What do you mean?”

He hated this. It was like being back in high school, and he’d really hated high school. He’d thought to wait to tell Katie the truth about the Santa thing, both because it amused him to keep the secret and because he took few things seriously other than flying.

But oddly enough, he was taking this very seriously. “I know you’re trying to get Matt to discuss your Christmas party kiss, but there’s a good reason he won’t.”

“I know.” She grimaced. “It’s because I’m Christmas cursed. I never should have made that stupid Christmas wish.”

“You’re…Christmas cursed?”

“Let’s just say Santa seems to lose my address.”

“And the Christmas wish thing?”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Oh, I think it probably is.”

“Okay, fine, I made a stupid wish to…” She blushed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Well, you’re a man…”

“Yes.” He had to smile. “That was too easy, try another question.”

She rolled her eyes. “Forget it, just forget it. It’s not important.”

Yes, it was, he could see that much. But so was this. “About that kiss, Katie-”

“I’d like to forget that, too.”

“Sorry, no can do.” He’d never forget it. “Matt can’t discuss this with you. He can’t, Katie, because I’m the one who shared that kiss with you.”

Her mouth worked.

Opened.

Closed.

Opened again. “I kissed Matt,” she finally managed to say. “In the Santa costume.”

“No. You kissed me. In the Santa costume. And I think you already know it.”

“No.”

“Yes. Otherwise, how would I know about it?” He tried to smile, but truthfully the memory of her in that dress, pressed against him, her mouth on his, pretty much made it difficult. “I know if you think about it, you’ll see the truth. You’ve nearly recognized me every single day since.”

“In your dreams.”

“Really? Then why are you always staring at me?”

“I am not always staring at you!”

When he only waited patiently, she blew out a frustrated breath. “Much,” she muttered.

“I’m flattered,” he said.

“Don’t be! I did not kiss you!”

“I could prove it to you, if you’d like.”

HE COULD prove it to her.

Oh, Lord.

Katie’s palms were clammy, her heart raced.

The flu, she decided. It was just the flu coming on.

Which didn’t explain why the thought of him “proving it” to her had her nipples hard and achy.

Bryan kept his distance, but she felt the heat of him, the power in his big frame all the same, and she knew if she slid her arms around his neck and pressed close he’d make a rough, appreciative growl-

No. This was most definitely a road she did not want to travel.

Normally she was an easygoing person. Quiet and reserved, maybe even a little mousy, but she was working on that. And yet she wasn’t easygoing now. “How could you prove something that never happened?” she asked with remarkable-and totally false-calm.

“By kissing you again.”

She stared at him, and it wasn’t a loss of words that made speaking difficult, but that she had so much to say and no rationale left in which to say it. “No, you can’t kiss me.”

“Again. You mean I can’t kiss you again. ”

“There was never a first time!”

He leaned closer so that she was surrounded by him. “I have six sisters,” he confided in a voice that managed to convey both his affection and love for his family. “That’s six nosy, bossy, demanding and completely wonderful females. ”

She did not want to know this about him. She wanted to picture him as wild, uncaring and…well, a jerk.

He felt safer that way.

But nothing about this man was safe. Nothing.

“So trust me on this one,” he continued. “I learned early to never disagree with a woman, but I’m very sorry to say you’re wrong.”

Did he have to stand so close? She could see his eyes weren’t just a little blue, but all the way, ocean-deep, drown-in-me blue. Terrific. Not only did he love his family, but he had amazing eyes.

Not fair.

He also had a scar that ran along the line of his dark brow, probably from doing something crazy.

Realizing she was staring at him, and that he was enjoying that very thing, she turned on her heels and moved toward the storage warehouse. She didn’t need anything, but she felt so flustered, so uncustomarily unnerved, she opened it, flipped on the light and stepped inside.

Okay, think.

She’d kissed Santa Claus, she knew this much for certain. The rest was pure speculation. She knew what she wanted. She wanted Santa to have been Matt. Wanted Matt to have hoarsely whispered her name with longing. Wanted Matt to have been the one to put his hands on her and gently squeeze as if he could never get enough of her.

Nice, dependable, kind Matt. Grown-up Matt. Perfect Matt.

She had no doubt it had been him, none whatsoever.

None.

Mostly none.

This wasn’t good. In fact, this was bad, very bad.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Bryan whispered.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“If you have six sisters, you also know it’s not exactly flattering to call a woman a liar.”

He grinned.

“I bet you’re the baby of the family,” she said without thinking, and his grin widened.

“Oh, I am. Spoiled rotten, too. And you know what else? You’re interested in me. I like that.” He settled even closer and smiled at her. “What else can I tell you?”

“Why you’d want to play footsy with Holly.”

His smile faded. Honestly faded. “Holly is the last person on earth I would play footsy with,” he said. “That woman is dangerous.”

“Men like that.”

“Men like excitement, not danger, not in a woman anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” she said in a tone that could be construed as nothing other than sarcasm.

“Tell me this much,” he said, strangely intent. “Did you see me egging her on? Or did you see me move away from her as quickly as I could?”

She thought about that. “You moved away from her.”

“Like a mouse out of a snake’s path.”

That made her laugh. “You’re hardly a mouse.” But she could concede that maybe what she’d seen in the meeting had been one-sided. There were, however, other issues here. Personal issues. Bryan may be charming when he wanted, but he wasn’t serious. At least not about women. And she was serious. She wanted a serious man.