Page 47 of Baby It's Cold Outside

Okay, she was pretty sure she’d passed out there for a while but surely she’d remember doing the wild thing with a guy who looked like he’d been invented with the wild thing in mind? A twenty-five-year-old guy.

Georgia’s brother.

She shut her eyes and threw a swift prayer out into the universe. Please, please, please don’t let it be so. And if it was? Then for the love of all that was holy, please, please, please let her at least remember!

Her eyes flew open at a sudden thought and she quickly peeked under the covers—she was still fully clothed. That was good, right? She squirmed a little, trying to decide if she felt any different. Surely after a year’s abstinence she’d know if they’d done...it.

There was no ache—of the good variety. No residual feeling that all her kinks had been ironed out. No innate sense of...relief. None of that great sexual malaise that went right down into the marrow, paralyzing muscles and leadening bones. In fact, her body still felt pretty wired. She let out a raggedy breath, her gaze drifting down his flat abs. They couldn’t have done it. Luke Jackson looked like a guy who knew how to leaden bones.

He moved then, and Tamara’s breath seized in her chest. She shut her eyes in case he woke and caught her staring. He rolled, settling on his belly, his head turned away from her, and she breathed again.

Get up! Get up now!

Tamara obeyed, refusing the dictates of a body that demanded she give equal time to enjoying the back view. She slipped out from under the covers and did not look over her shoulder no matter how tempting it was. And it was very, very tempting.

Thankfully it was another hour before Luke emerged. Enough time for Tamara to have kept the fire stoked, prepared her apology speech, and gotten a little distance from her embarrassing antics that morning. Although that distance did evaporate somewhat as he stood straddling the two rooms, a foot on either side, using the archway to stretch. In nothing but his underwear.

“Hi,” he said, hands gripping the framework above his head. His abs elongated in a particularly tantalizing display. He dropped his head from side to side, drawing her gaze up as he gave his traps the same treatment.

It really should be illegal for some guys to go shirtless.

“Hi,” she responded, hoping it didn’t sound like she’d been sucking on helium for the last hour.

“I’m starving,” he said. “Are you starving?”

She shook her

head. “I’ve eaten three Pop-Tarts, two Twinkies and,” she held up an orange package, “half a bag of Cheetos.” Also, half a bottle of Tylenol.

He laughed and headed for the kitchen. “Ooh, Pop-Tarts. My favorite.”

Tamara watched the swagger of two tight buns for a few seconds before leaping to her feet. Did he not realize he was only in his underwear? He may be used to parading around in next to nothing in front of females he barely knew but it was a little too familiar for her!

“I’ll get them,” she said, gaze firmly fixed on the toaster as she also headed his way. “Why don’t you...er...get dressed?” Tamara was pleased her voice was sounding firmer.

And that she hadn’t given into the urge to check him out once more.

She watched as Luke looked down at himself and then looked at her and grinned. He didn’t even have the good grace to blush over his state of undress. He just shrugged and said, “Sure thing.”

Tamara put two raspberry tarts in the toaster and was satisfied, when they popped a minute later, to see he’d donned some track pants and his white T-shirt from earlier. Although somehow his clothes just seemed to emphasis what was underneath. Still, at least she wasn’t getting a full-blown Technicolor display anymore and for that she was grateful.

“Better?” he asked, and the mischief in his grin was charming as hell.

She gave him her very best kindergarten teacher, this-behavior-is-not-acceptable, look. “Thank you,” she said, because saying, “No, would you mind taking it all back off, please?” was counterproductive.

Tamara held out his plate and he was on the other side of the kitchen bench, plonking himself on a stool in three strides. “Mm, thanks,” he said and bit into one, his eyes closing momentarily as he groaned in appreciation. A groan that stroked along muscles deep inside. Rusty muscles. He opened his eyes and smiled. “Ahh, the taste of home.”

She could only imagine how much sexier that smile would be in ten years when his hair had a little gray and there were some lines around his eyes and some salt and pepper in the stubble emphasizing that wicked cleft in his chin. And a gaze that had lived and loved a little more. Although his endless blue eyes told her he’d seen a little too much already of things no one should ever see.

Only the crackling of the fire could be heard as she watched him devour the food. This was the perfect place to jump in with the apology she’d been practicing.

“About earlier...”

Luke looked up from his plate. Here it comes. He shook his head to cut her off at the pass. “It’s fine. You were fine.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “I don’t think so.”

He smiled. “It’s fine, really.”

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