Page 214 of Screwged for Christmas

“How do you not have women lined up outside your door right now?” She turned in her stool and craned her neck around to the front door as if to make sure her statement wasn’t true already. “It’s like you infused sex appeal into pumpkin pie and then dipped it in chocolate for a follow-up orgasm and for aftershocks, added another dash of cinnamon.” She moaned long and low and he almost felt jealous of the pastry she praised, wishing it was him giving her such euphoria.

“I had no idea that was even a thing.” His words sounded raw even to his ears. She killed him. One mouthful of pie at a time.

“It is to a woman. Have you ever had an orgasm so hard the aftershocks felt just as good as the original until you’re left with nothing but a limp body and the need to sleep for days?”

That burned like a poker to the balls and had his jaw flexing, biting back the crazy notion of jealousy that clawed at him at the thought of another man giving her that experience. What the hell was wrong with him? “I take it you have.”

“Nope. Virgin, but I’ve dreamed about it.”

It took him a good ten seconds to gather his thoughts after that admission. This woman was amazing. Open book for sure, but there was a quaintness about it.

Braced against the counter, his gaze roved over the several platters of sugar cookies in various shapes. Tension cranked up the heat with every heartbeat and every muscle in his body bunched tightly at the single word.

“But this comes pretty damn close.”

He pushed up and poured them another round of espressos.

Time to change the subject. “How long have you been a doctor?”

Ivy shifted and straightened her shoulders. “Are you going to eat that?” He scooted his plate over to her along with her fresh cup of caffeine.

“So,” he pushed, looking into her eyes. He immediately wanted to shove his foot into his mouth so deep he’d need a crane to pull it free.

She drew away slightly from where they both bent over the counter, him on one side and her on the other. Perched on the edge of her stool, she didn’t have much room for retreat so he pulled back, sensing a change in her.

“Not a fully certified doc yet, but it’s a work in progress.”

Not a full answer. People who dodged had a tendency to hide things. Not that it was his business, but he couldn’t help the curiosity that dug into his brain.

“Must be hard dealing with so many other people’s problems. Separating them from your own when you go home at the end of the day. You and your sister are a lot alike. You both have hearts of gold. You more so. Especially if things don’t turn out like you expect for some patients.” He watched her over the rim of his cup.

“You read into people a lot, don’t you, Damon.” She swallowed another bite of his cake.

“Occupational hazard.” He shrugged.

“You mean as a bar and bakery owner. I had no idea. I guess you need to know people’s preferences. Makes for good business.”

“Cop. Former anyway, remember.” She didn’t need to know the grittier details so he kept that off the table.

She leaned forward with a pretty smile. “Oh, yeah, you got me with that. I didnotsee that coming. So, you retired from the badge and gun to what? Don an apron? Must be a story there. How long have you had this place?”

“I took it over when Morgan died a few years ago.” When he’d heard the news of his sister’s death in an avalanche he’d put in for his papers and never looked back. His job with the force had already run its course anyway. He’d done what he’d set out to accomplish and his family needed him here.

She sat back on the stool. “Your wife?” Her warm smile slipped a notch.

“No, my younger sister. The baby of the family.”

“I’m so sorry.” She reached out to clasp his hand. He drew closer and wrapped his fingers through hers and inhaled.

Big mistake. The power of her scent overpowered every other smell in the small bakery and wrenched up the heat. He was in so much trouble and he couldn’t see a way out of the dark alley he’d walked down that didn’t involve claiming Ivy and her virginity for himself.

His eyes slid shut. “You’re killing me, angel,” he grunted. The scent of happiness and torment mixed together to create a whirlwind of emotions bombarding one another in his head. His heart.

“Sorry.” Her hand slipped from his, and he wanted to tear down the world around him. “And I’m not an angel. Just a simple girl. A nobody.”

“You shouldn’t think like that. And there’s nothing that is ‘just simple about you.”

He drew closer until she could see nothing but his face, his eyes and drew her gaze to his so she could see the truth as he spoke.

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