Blame It on the Mistletoe by Nicole Michaels Page A

bad boy Alex Coleman, and he was kissing her like his life depended on it. There was no woman in her right mind that would let him stop, and suddenly Brooke didn’t care what the repercussions were. He was too warm, smelled too good, and kissed her just right. She needed this, meaningless or not. She was strong; she could handle it.
    “Oh god, you’re gonna make this hard, aren’t you?” he murmured against her lips.
    “I hope so.” She laughed quietly at the double meaning.
    “Shit, Brooke.” He joined in the laughter. “You’re going to kill me.” He pulled back a little, then leaned his forehead on hers. He placed a few more quick kisses on her lips, then fully removed himself from her grasp. “Okay. I’m going. For real.”
    She stepped back, a little shocked and embarrassed. Could he really resist her so easily? That was a little painful because she wanted him so badly her body was humming with it. “Okay.”
    He ran a hand through his hair, a move she was coming to adore. “Come to dinner with me at my grandmother’s Friday.”
    Her mouth dropped open, but she quickly collected herself. “Seriously? I mean, I’d love to, but that’s like,
family
.”
    “I’ve known you forever, Brooke, and my grandmother loves you. It’s not like you’re strangers.”
    “Okay, if you insist.” She smiled.
    “I insist. I’ll come by and pick you up at five.”
    “Well, then, I guess I’ll see you Friday.” Only three days. She knew they were going to crawl by.
    He began to walk to his car then suddenly turned and in two strides was back up on the concrete slab. He gripped the sides of Brooke’s face so gently and softly kissed her lips, the heat of his mouth canceling out the frigid air surrounding them. When he pulled back, he looked deep into her eyes. “Friday.”
    She nodded, rendered speechless by the tenderness he showed. This time he stood waiting until she got into the building and locked the door behind her. She was now pretty sure that he’d held himself back to be a gentleman, not because he wasn’t feeling something for her. The happiness that consumed her was dangerous, because it wouldn’t last, but right now she couldn’t bother to care. For the first time in her life, she knew what pure joy felt like.

SEVEN
    The next morning Brooke woke early, unable to go back to sleep. She idly stroked Diva’s soft head as she stared at the ceiling. The cat’s loud rhythmic purr was an odd soundtrack to her mess of thoughts about the previous night’s date. She couldn’t help thinking how easily they’d laughed, smiled, joked. Brooke wasn’t the most confident of people these days; she usually left a conversation thinking she’d said all the wrong things. But not with Alex. He’d made her feel funny, intelligent, beautiful.
    And the kissing.
    She’d dreamed about it all night—his soft lips, scratchy face, and sexy scent. She’d wanted him to come inside more than anything, had nearly begged him. But he’d done the right thing, respected her wishes from dinner, been a gentleman, and left. What
had
she wanted? Him to beg her to give it up, to make her feel like he needed her so bad he couldn’t stand it? Okay, maybe that would have been amazing. With a groan, Brooke rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up, Diva meowing in protest.
    Thank goodness she’d managed to make a coffee run yesterday, and after her first cup and a yogurt, she showered and dressed in leggings, boots, and a long chambray shirt. It only made sense to dress comfortably at the shop since she could end up crawling under a table or helping someone load a bookshelf into a truck. Realizing she didn’t have as much time as she thought, she let her hair dry wavy, just hitting it with a little hair spray and a quick blast from the hair dryer.
    Once downstairs she got to work turning on lights, taking money from the safe, and cleaning up the classroom area from the night before. Within an hour she’d refilled her coffee