Tanya Michaels - Mistletoe Hero

“You’ve reached Sloan Carpentry and Odd Jobs. Leave a message at the beep or, in case of emergency, page my cell.”

Right after he gave the number for that, a woman spoke. “It’s Nicole. I may have an idea for a job possibility if you’re willing to move to Kennesaw. Give me a call if you want more details-it was great to hear from you the other day.”

Nicole? Against her will, Arianne recalled what Shane had told her. Kitchen tile wasn’t all he laid for Nicole Jones.

Even if Shane was right, what business was it of Arianne’s? Every adult had a romantic past. No, the pang she suffered probably wasn’t jealousy over a woman with whom Gabe may have once been involved, a woman who no longer even lived in Mistletoe. Instead, Arianne suspected that the reason it temporarily hurt to breathe was because even though Gabe had told her point-blank that he planned to leave, she’d harbored the subconscious hope that he’d change his mind.

She shot the answering machine a malevolent glare. Good thing she wasn’t a selfish, devious person or that message might accidentally get erased before Gabe was fully recovered. Pretending she was too noble to have even had such a thought, she left the kitchen and hurried down the hall.

Gabe wasn’t snoring, but his breathing was audible, deep and even. She crept forward, figuring she could leave the ice pack on the nightstand in case his headache woke him up in the immediate future. Unable to resist the temptation of studying him at her leisure, she sat gently on the edge of the bed. Gabriel. It was a fitting name for him. He was formed beautifully enough to look like an angel, albeit one with the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.

As she gazed down at him-this six-foot loner with surprise dimples and a secret love for ice cream-tenderness swamped her.

She bent to graze his forehead with a featherlight kiss. Unexpectedly, the arm at his side clamped around her, drawing her inexorably to him. He never even opened his eyes.

“Gabe?” she whispered.

Nothing.

She was squashed into his torso and had to wiggle around so she could breathe easier and so that she wasn’t lying in such a way that pulled her long hair. His breathing was still relaxed, but his arm was like an iron band around her. She debated the best way to slip loose without disturbing his well-earned rest. Oh, heck with it . Despite his teasing remark about taking her to bed earlier, who knew if she’d ever have this chance again?

Deciding to enjoy it while she was here, she tucked her chin against his chest and succumbed to the luxury of being in Gabe’s arms.

When Gabe woke in the dark room, his head hurt some but it was a distant pain that paled in comparison to the other physical sensations jolting his body. Arianne was snuggled across him, her warm weight draped over him like the world’s sexiest blanket, her thigh pressing against his erection. Although he wasn’t complaining, he couldn’t remember crawling into bed with her.

He barely recalled finding the grit to make it down the hall on his own two feet. How long had they been here? No light shone around the edges of the window shade, so the sun must have already set. To get a look at the digital clock on his dresser he would have to shift Arianne, and he didn’t want to disturb her.

In fact, part of him wanted nothing more than to sink back into slumber, enjoying her nearness and accepting it as fate’s gift to him, a reward for helping that kid earlier. But Gabe didn’t think he’d be able to sleep that easily. He was too alert now, too aware of the sensual softness of her, the crush of her breasts against him, the teasing scent of her shampoo. The kisses they’d shared earlier came back to him in excruciating detail.

He fidgeted, restless and trying to get more comfortable as his arousal spiked to new levels.

“Mmm.” Arianne burrowed closer, and he almost laughed. How could she feel so addictively good yet be torturing him at the same time?

The phone shrilled, and Arianne’s eyes popped open, going wide as they met his. “Oh!”

He suspected that if there were enough light in the room he’d be watching her blush.

She started to roll away, but he hugged her first, just long enough to let her know he wasn’t sorry she was there. When their gazes locked again, she no longer looked embarrassed at finding herself sprawled in such a position. Shadows fell across her features, but he could sense a new emotion in her. Dare he hope, desire?

He slid his hands from her back down to the curve of her butt. She moved against him, the friction overwhelming, even through his jeans.

“What about the phone?” she whispered, propping herself on one elbow.

The phone was the least of his problems. He wanted-needed-to kiss her again. But they weren’t in Mistletoe town square now. They were alone in his bed. If they got carried away by the same passions they’d kindled in each other earlier, there was no question of how this would end. He would make love to Arianne Waide.

And then what? His conscience tried to make itself heard over his libido. Gabe’s only affairs in the past decade had been with women who either lived in neighboring towns or women who, like Nicole, wouldn’t be in Mistletoe long. Arianne would probably be here for the rest of his life. What kind of bastard would seduce a woman like her, then leave without a backward glance? While Gabe thought Shane McIntyre was largely a horse’s behind, the man had been accurate when he said Gabe wasn’t worthy of her.

“Gabe?” His name was a husky caress on her lips.

“You were right,” he said halfheartedly, dropping his hands to his sides. “I should get the ph-”

“It stopped ringing.” She used his horizontal position to mitigate the difference in their height, moving up to nip at his neck and then his bottom lip.

His body tensed in piercing pleasure. “Arianne-”

“Kiss me,” she said against his mouth.

God, yes. “Wait, I-”

She froze. “I’m so selfish! I’m hurting you, aren’t I? Is your vision still blurred?”

How could he tell? He was nearly cross-eyed with lust anyway.

“You aren’t hurting me.” At least not in the way she meant. “But you don’t know me well enough to do this.”

“Shouldn’t I get to decide that?” She poked him lightly in the chest.

“Not if you don’t have all the facts,” he countered.

Shushing his protests, she pressed two fingers against his mouth, then drew them down so that her index finger slipped between his lips. He sucked on the tip, reveling in the way her breathing sped up. Arianne was never shy about expressing herself. Making love to her would be-

“I know enough,” she pledged, swiveling her hips so that she was astride him. “And I want you.”

He surprised a gasp out of her when he pushed himself upright, gathering her to him for a searing, openmouthed kiss that burned away the last of his qualms. Plunging his fingers through her hair, he slanted his mouth over hers. The clip she’d been wearing clattered to the hardwood floor and long blond waves fell forward, curtaining them.

Arianne burned with need. No one had ever kissed her like this. She felt dangerously, exhilaratingly out of control. She was greedy for more, wanted to explore the hollows and planes of his hard body. She started to pull back so that she could remove his T-shirt, and gasped when the motion rocked her against him, the sensation so exquisite that she rolled her hips a second time with slow deliberation.

He swore softly, then grabbed her waist, hauling her to him and kissing her breathless. Somehow he managed to unbutton the top half of her long shirt using only one hand, shoving the material backward so that it dropped away from her body. The cool air was a sensual balm against her overheated skin. Under the lacy cups of her bra, her nipples beaded into tight points.