Shannon Stacey - Mistletoe & Margaritas

“You want me to hang that mistletoe?”

“No, thanks. I’ll hang it somewhere later.” If he hung it, then he’d end up standing under it and she might be tempted to kiss him.

“This is the part where you offer me food,” he reminded her.

“We’ll be at Cal’s party in a few hours and there’s always tables of food.”

“The keywords being in a few hours.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled open the refrigerator. “I don’t have much. Haven’t worked up the ambition to go grocery shopping in a while. Deli meat. A leftover chicken breast. It was a little dry the first time around, so I don’t think a microwave is going to help it any. I could slice it thin, maybe. Make a sandwich with lots of mayo.”

“You got any chocolate pudding?” His voice so close to her ear made her jump.

He was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. With one hand on the open door and the other braced on the fridge itself, she was trapped by his body and awareness of it crackled through her like an August wildfire.

It had to be that stupid dream, she told herself. Now that she knew her body was thinking about sex again, she was fabricating desire where it didn’t exist. She didn’t feel that way about Justin.

He moved closer, trying to see around her, and when his hip bumped hers, it took every ounce of self-control she had not to react. Okay, so maybe she felt that way about Justin a little. But it would pass. As long as he didn’t catch on, things wouldn’t get weird and eventually her body would find somebody else to lust after.

She hoped.

“Next right,” Justin told the cab driver, who put on his turn signal and slowed the car. Then he sent a quick text to Claire to let her know they’d arrived.

Neither of them were big drinkers, but the booze flowed freely at Cal’s Christmas parties and Justin would have at least a couple of beers and Claire would have some kind of sparkly, fruity drink. Before Brendan’s accident, he would have risked it, telling himself two drinks was nothing. But, even though alcohol wasn’t a factor in the accident, Justin had been the one to visit the impound and collect any personal items from the mangled wreck that had been Brendan’s car. Since then, he did what he could to make sure his family wouldn’t have to do the same.

When the cab was in Park, Justin got out and walked around to open Claire’s door for her just in time to see her making her way carefully down the staircase in red high heels he’d never seen before. And, holy crap, her legs. He’d seen her legs before. Kicking around in shorts and flip-flops. Hell, he’d even seen them at the beach a time or two, when she wore nothing but a modest, one-piece suit.

But they looked different tonight. He’d never seen her long, curved-just-right legs going on for what looked like forever, from her short black skirt to those red high-heeled shoes that would make any hot-blooded male instantly hard just because they were red high-heeled shoes.

“You ready?” she asked, and he realized he’d watched those amazing legs walk right up to him and stop.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, thinking maybe being concerned for her health would sound like a legitimate excuse for the staring.

She hesitated, looking like she was going to say something but changed her mind. Then she shook her head. “Not really.”

“The dress code for Cal’s party’s pretty casual.”

“So I felt like dressing up a little.” Her hair was up in some sparkly red clip thing and she had on just enough makeup to keep his gaze bouncing between her gorgeous eyes and a mouth just begging to be kissed.

As she walked past him to get into the cab and he closed her door for her, he thought about that mouth and those legs and those shoes and swore softly, but very earnestly, under his breath. She looked like a woman who was hoping to find a man.

What the hell was he supposed to do if she found one? He wasn’t sure he had the willpower to watch her leave with some other guy.

Especially once he was in the cab and those legs were in his peripheral vision. The skirt wasn’t indecent by any means, but it had ridden up and when she shifted in her seat, he got a painfully delicious glimpse of her smooth, pale inner thigh. He turned his head to look out the window and was thankful it was only a ten-minute drive to the small resort hosting the party.

Cal Reading was a builder who specialized in building overpriced custom homes for people with way too much money and he threw one hell of a Christmas party every year. Justin’s invite was thanks to the occasional roof he’d do if the regular Reading Builders roofing crew was held up on a big job. Claire worked with a lot of the outfit’s subcontractors and Cal appreciated how well she coordinated with his big-city accountant.

They both knew pretty much everybody in the big banquet room, so it wasn’t long before they’d gone their separate ways, each with a drink in hand. It was only when he heard her laughter over the crowd and the music that he realized the men really outnumbered the women in the room. By a lot. And too many of them didn’t appear to have women to leave with.

No wonder Claire was practically surrounded. Okay, maybe not surrounded, but there were a few guys who seemed to be orbiting her like they were just looking for an opening to land their lunar modules. And the shimmery, flowing red blouse that matched her shoes and hugged her curves wasn’t helping any.

“Hey, Justin.” A woman slid up next to him at the cash bar and it took him a few seconds to place her. She ran the contractor desk at the local home-improvement store and he was pretty sure her name was Jen. Usually she had a name tag on pinned to her work vest, but tonight her dark hair was teased and hairsprayed to what looked like its breaking point and her V-neck sweater was a little more V-necked than it should have been.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Not bad. Running empty, though.” She set an empty glass on the counter and waved to the bartender.

“Next one’s on me,” Justin said, because he wasn’t sure if she was fishing for him to buy her a drink or not, but he thought she might be. It seemed the polite thing to do, plus she always took good care of him at the store, so he pulled out his wallet.

Jen was smiling at him over the rim of a fresh rum-and-Coke, when it belatedly dawned on him she might be looking for some extra-curricular company, so he looked around the room until he spotted Claire again.

This time, she wasn’t laughing at something one of her clingy male satellites had said. She was looking at him. Or rather, she was looking at Jen. And she looked annoyed, which wasn’t like her. Then a tall plumber who’d once screwed up one of Justin’s roofs with a bad venting job walked up and handed her a glass of something red, and she smiled up at him.

“I think you have to have a claim on the lady before you can beat the crap out of the guy hitting on her,” Jen said and he scowled at her, which made her laugh. “Don’t bother denying it. You looked like you were mentally ripping his head off his shoulders.”

“He hacked up a roof I did once.”

“And then he bought a drink for the woman you arrived with.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Sure. Hey, I see somebody I want to say hi to. Thanks for the drink.”

“No problem. See you around.” He took a sip of his beer and looked around for somebody-anybody but Claire-to talk to and spotted a few guys he knew standing around in the corner shooting the bull.

On his way over, he caught sight of Claire through the corner of his eye. She was still talking to the idiot plumber, but she was watching Justin. And her expression looked a lot like Jen’s expression before she caught on she wasn’t holding his interest, but he told himself it was just his imagination.

Just friends. That was all they were.

Claire sipped at her cranberry margarita-a lovely and potent holiday concoction of tequila, orange-flavored liqueur, and cranberry and lime juices-and watched Justin over the rim of her glass. She wasn’t sober anymore, but she wasn’t drunk, either. She’d hit that sweet spot of inebriation where she could check out the man’s ass and not feel weird about it.

And what an ass it was. Every woman in the room had checked it out, even the ones who’d had to be sneaky about it because they hadn’t come to the party alone.

Claire hadn’t come alone. And she wouldn’t be going home alone, either. The hot ass in the tight jeans would be leaving with her, since Justin intended to crash on her couch, as he always had in the past.

Warm and flushed and basking in a mild alcoholic glow, she watched Justin laugh at something one of the other guys said and thought about how, a few hours from then, he’d be stretched out on her sofa in his sweatpants and the Bruins T-shirt that always rode up in his sleep and exposed his abs. And then, because her hormones and the margaritas had lit a fire in her belly, she thought about him stretched out on her bed, minus the sweats and T-shirt.

He turned at that exact moment and caught her staring. Or devouring him with her eyes, as the case may be. Judging by the way his eyebrows rose and a soft flush of pink crept up his neck, whatever look she was giving him wasn’t one he’d seen her give him before.

Without breaking eye contact, he took a long swig of beer and she realized he was giving her a look she hadn’t seen from him before, either. Hot. Hungry. The kind of look a man gave a woman when he was considering his chances of getting naked with her and hoping they were good.

She gave him the wrap-it-up signal and he smiled at her over his bottle. He extricated himself from the conversation and then pulled out his phone to call for a cab. And as he made his way over to her while saying a goodbye here and there, she tried not to think about the fact they were going home together. Which they’d done before, of course. Quite often. But not after exchanging sizzling glances over the tops of their drinks.