Jennifer Probst - The Holiday Hoax

Her lips parted almost subconsciously. As if she had dropped down the rabbit hole, Isabella felt if this stranger leaned in and kissed her, she’d kiss him back. The connection hummed, pulsed, then settled. She took a step back and he gave her the distance.

“Sold,” he said. “For twenty dollars.”

Isabella nodded, still wary of the weird feelings jumping in the pit of her belly. She still didn’t like him, but something pulled her. She took out the bill and handed it to him. His bare fingers brushed against the buttery leather of her glove and she briefly wished she’d removed them, just to feel what it was like to touch his bare skin. He pocketed the money, and carefully lifted the tree. “I’ll take it to your car.”

She followed him through the endless rows to her practical sedan. He laid it gently in the back seat. “Too small to tie it to the roof, but you should be okay. Go easy on the turns. Do you live far?”

Isabella shook her head. “No.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “Here you go. Thanks for your help.”

He went to take the bill, but instead of pulling it out of her hand, his thumb found the edge of her glove and pressed against her bare pulse point. The shock of his touch made her catch her breath. His gaze flew to hers with the full knowledge of her reaction. Then he smiled.

“Keep it. Merry Christmas.”

Her tongue stumbled on the words. “Merry Christmas.” Then she turned and got into her car as fast she could. She pulled away and noticed he watched her the whole time, his gaze following the tire tracks until her car disappeared around the bend.

“Vin, I’m not in the mood to go to this party.”

“You’re going. I already told Rick to expect us, and there’s going to be lots of single ladies. Normal, nice single ladies for you. Bad, naughty, single women for me.”

Aidan laughed into the cell phone. “You can go without me, you don’t need a wingman. It’s supposed to snow tonight and I just want to read a good book and go to bed early. Manual labor is kicking my ass.”

“Now you sound like an old person. I’ll meet you at eight. Come on, A, I probably won’t see you again before the holiday. We’ll hang out, meet some women and have some laughs. Okay?”

Aidan refilled his coffee mug and leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. “Fine. See you at eight.”

He clicked off the cell phone and drank his coffee. Then glanced down at the ledger paper with a license plate number scrawled on the page. Her license number. The mysterious stranger who’d haunted his dreams for the last few nights. Aidan almost groaned. He was officially a stalker.

He had contacts. All he had to do was give them the number, and they’d get him a name and address. Yes, illegal, but he wasn’t going to do anything. He just wanted a name. If she was local, he could find a way to ask around to see where she hung out, or if she was married. God, what if she was married? The thought made his gut clench. No, her glove didn’t show a bump over her ring finger. He was positive she wore no ring.

Aidan didn’t feel like going to a party to meet another woman, not when he dreamed of her—a woman whose gorgeous blue eyes reminded him of the Caribbean ocean, and could be as chilly as the Atlantic when she raised her chin and tried to look down to him, even though he towered over her. This woman had guts and heart. Yet, he hadn’t asked for her number or her name. For the first time in his life, his smooth social skills held no match for his emotions. He’d been tongue tied, reminding him of his first crush. And when she stumbled back from his touch, obviously feeling their connection…well, he hadn’t known what to do. She disappeared so fast.

Aidan needed to find her.

He set down his coffee mug and went to get changed for the party he didn’t want to go to.

“I don’t want to go.” Isabella hated the whine in her voice as she stood outside the door and turned to her friend. “I told you I just wanted to stay home and read.”

Her best friend, Liz, gave a deep suffering sigh. “We’re here. You’ve complained the whole drive over and now you will stop. I set you up on an awesome blind date. You’re going to love this guy.”

“I hate blind dates,” she grumbled. “They’re always a disaster.”

“He makes a lot of money. He’s charming and good looking.”

“I hate rich guys. They’re spoiled brats.”

“Don’t judge. Come on.” Liz hustled her into the house, decorated for the holiday. The Christmas tree loomed huge in the foyer, over ten feet of sheer perfection and glory, with lights and decorations and tinsel. Crowds of beautifully dressed people clad in bright reds and greens mingled around the large wooden bar and buffet. Carols hummed from strategically placed speakers as they made their way through the room and got rid of their coats. Liz leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Go to the bar and get yourself some wine. I’ll find your date and bring him over.”

“Liz—”

“Go.”

Isabella obeyed and found a space at the bar. She ordered a Pinot Grigio and sipped it while she took in her surroundings. Then she saw him.

Christmas tree guy.

Isabella froze and watched him make his way across the room. Powerful, masculine energy hummed off of him in waves, and the crowd parted automatically to let him through. He looked dressed to please himself rather than the crowd—a black button down shirt, khaki pants, and work boots completed the outfit. In a room sporting Calvin Klein and Prada, she guessed he didn’t have the money to run with this crowd, but maybe he was with someone who did. Like a woman. The thought bit hard and hurt more than it should since she didn’t even know his name.

He looked up as if hearing her thoughts and their gazes locked.

He said something to the guy next to him and made his way across the room, his gaze never leaving her face. “Hi.”

Isabella couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed over her face. “Hi, right back. What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “Friend invited me. You?”

“Same thing.” Isabella felt silly at the pleasure of being near him again, like a teenager in high school getting to talk to the football star. “Did you supply the tree out front?”

He laughed. “No, they bought it at one of my competitors. Lost out on that sale.”

“Big commission. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, your sale made up for it. How is Charlie Brown?” he asked.

“Doing much better. You’d be impressed.”

“I am already.”

The words hung in the air between them. The sounds and sights of the party faded away under the golden gleam in his eyes. She cleared her throat. “I never got your name.”

“Aidan. Aidan Hunter. And you?”

“Isabella Summers.”

“Nice to meet you Isabella Summers.” With that, he reached out and interlaced his fingers with hers. The shock of skin on skin skittered through her. His hands were warm and strong. She imagined his touch on her naked body, over her tight nipples and lower. Heat tinged her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She based attraction to a man on his personality and kindness. Suddenly, the thought of ripping off his clothes took precedence over sparkling conversation.

As if he knew, Aidan leaned forward. His warm breath struck her lips. “Now that must have been an interesting thought,” he murmured.

She shifted as an achy heat settled between her thighs. Her blush deepened. Slowly, he reached out and ran one finger down her flaming cheek. The connection lit and burned like an electric fuse underwater. Her body jumped to life and demanded attention. His eyes darkened. She opened her mouth and—

“Isabella.” Her name cut through the fog like a razor. Liz stood beside her with a very good-looking man, her face evidently shocked at having to interrupt with her date. Aidan dropped his hand and stepped back. His face closed up and he looked distantly polite. Isabella’s tummy clenched, but she forced herself to turn with a welcoming smile to the man beside Liz.

Liz made the introductions and quickly exited, staring curiously at Aidan who nodded at the new man, Robert, and politely made his excuses, disappearing into the crowd. Isabella turned to her date and forced herself to initiate a conversation while her thoughts remained on Aidan Hunter.

Aidan moodily watched the couple converse while he sipped his drink. Evidently, it was a blind date set up from her friend’s introductions. Still, Aidan didn’t like it. Fate had stepped in and allowed him to find her. He certainly didn’t want to lose her to another man this early in the game.

She was more riveting than he remembered. Those eyes burned with blue fire, but with her knit cap and coat off, Aidan admitted she was a knockout. Honey strands of hair fell in artful disarray around her face, setting off high arched brows, and full, pouty lips. Her Christmasy red sweater accentuated high lush breasts. Long legs were clad in black pants, emphasized by thigh high leather boots that were all the rage and sexy as hell.

He dated beautiful women all the time. Isabella seemed different from them. Her face reflected an open honesty and strength of character he rarely spotted anymore, evident in her rescuing a tree that was ugly on the outside. She glimpsed more underneath the surface and took the precious time to look. The people Aidan knew rarely wasted effort to investigate. They craved bigger, better, shinier, and demanded it yesterday. Isabella’s loyalty toward something ugly intrigued him, until he followed his instinct to make the deal difficult for her. No one would pay money for something that didn’t fit. Something that wasn’t beautiful.