All He Wants For Christmas...: Flirting With Intent / Blame it on the Bikini / Restless. Kelly Hunter

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All He Wants For Christmas...: Flirting With Intent / Blame it on the Bikini / Restless - Kelly Hunter

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      ‘If you want anything like that, let me know. That’s my department.’

      ‘Ruby, I’m quite capable of stepping out for half a dozen cans of cola. Consider it exercise and a change of scenery on my part.’

      ‘That’s really not how it works.’

      ‘No, that’s usually exactly how it works,’ he murmured with a crooked smile. ‘Want one?’

      ‘Just water, please. It’s slick out. Hopefully the icing hasn’t slid off the roof of the house.’ Ruby gave the confectionary a careful once-over but all looked well with Santa’s gingerbread cottage. ‘Are we flirting yet?’

      ‘Just working my way up to it,’ he said with a smiling glance in her direction. ‘It’s all in the timing.’ He looked back at the cellophane wrapped gingerbread house. ‘Anyone ever tell you that you shop too much?’

      ‘You’re the first. Speaking of shopping, are those the jeans we bought for you yesterday?’

      Damon nodded. ‘Useful, aren’t they?’

      ‘There goes the Christmas present,’ she murmured. ‘Perhaps I forgot to mention the part where I wrap them up and put them under the tree?’

      ‘That can still be arranged,’ he said dryly.

      ‘It’s not the same. You’re meant to wait. Take possession on Christmas Day.’

      ‘It’s just another day, Ruby.’

      ‘Well, it is now. Take them off.’

      Grinning, Damon set his drink down and reached for his fly. Ruby raised a delicate eyebrow but made no move to stop him. Eventually he stopped of his own accord.

      ‘You’re supposed to say “not here”,’ he said. ‘And then you blush.’

      ‘Not sure we’re living in the same universe, my friend.’

      ‘I’ll say. Good thing I’m adaptable.’ The trousers came off. He handed them to Ruby, who stripped his belt from the trousers and handed it back to him with considerable expertise.

      ‘And the rest of the clothes from yesterday,’ she said airily. ‘When you’re ready.’

      ‘Good thing we didn’t buy underwear,’ he murmured and set off up the hall, not an ounce of self-consciousness anywhere in sight. Just strong, athletic legs, broad, shirt-covered shoulders, and a hint of mighty fine buttock. Put today’s picture together with yesterday’s man-and-his-towel image, and a woman could be excused for losing her breath.

      ‘I know you’re looking,’ he said from halfway down the hall.

      ‘No, I’m not.’ But she said it with a smile, and she leaned over the counter the better to catch the show.

      Only once he’d reached his room did Ruby drag her attention away from Damon West’s very fine form to study his can of cola and note the label. She’d add it to the drinks order and make sure a case of it arrived later this evening with the last of the Christmas Day fare.

      When Damon returned he had the rest of the clothes they’d purchased yesterday in hand and a pair of vivid Hawaiian board shorts on person.

      ‘A leftover from your last stint as a pool boy?’ she queried delicately.

      ‘What? You don’t like them? They’re my favourite.’

      ‘Oh, Damon. That’s just …’ Words failed her. ‘Sad.’ She handed the new trousers back to him with a sigh. ‘Put them back on before your father sees you. He has a reputation to maintain.’

      ‘Ruby, you confuse me,’ he murmured, but he took hold of the trousers deftly enough and the edges of his lips signalled his satisfaction.

      ‘Player,’ she accused.

      ‘Despot.’

      ‘Yes, but I’m a benevolent one. How many of these clothes we bought you yesterday are you going to need to wear tomorrow?’

      ‘Only the shirt. And the jeans again. Maybe the jacket.’

      Ruby sighed, temporarily defeated. Maybe she could shop with him in mind on the way home. Something with a V-neck and tiny little sleeves. Flared pants with spangles.

      ‘Would it have killed you to get two sets of clothes when we were shopping earlier?’

      ‘I wasn’t sure that shop was me.’

      ‘There were other shops.’

      ‘Yes, I know,’ he said with a shudder. ‘They were everywhere. But two clothes shops a year is my limit and we did them both yesterday.’

      ‘We need to build your stamina.’

      ‘I have stamina,’ he murmured. ‘It’s selective.’

      ‘Ah,’ she murmured. ‘Now we’re flirting.’ ‘Correct.’

      Ruby’s gaze cut to Damon’s mouth. Flirting was meant to be light. Fun. Not deeply, emotionally satisfying.

      Moments later those tempting lips got a great deal closer as Damon leaned towards her in much the same way as she had done the first time they’d met. Bench in between them but personal space still well and truly invaded. Her eyes moved up to meet Damon’s gaze and there was a promise there waiting for her, and a challenge if she dared to accept it.

      ‘Something you want from me, Ruby?’ he asked silkily.

      ‘Nope. Definitely not. Can’t think of anything. At all.’

      ‘Liar,’ he whispered softly.

      ‘Are you sure this is flirting without intent?’ she whispered back.

      ‘Now that you mention it, I may have acquired intent,’ he murmured.

      ‘That’s really not part of the plan.’

      ‘I know.’ He rocked forward until his lips brushed hers. ‘The plan was flawed. No pep.’

      ‘Don’t you have cola for that?’

      ‘It’s not enough.’

      ‘Is that a favourite saying of yours?’

      ‘It is of late.’ He touched his lips to hers again and his big body grew very still. Warm lips against her own and a bench in between them as he waited for her response.

      Time seemed to stop as Ruby battled for control of her wayward reaction to Damon West. Not flirty and easy but complex and needy. So much need in her to taste the essence of this man.

      Tentatively, she set the tip of her tongue to one corner of his lips and tested the seam. In. He let her in, and he tasted of sweetness and his tongue knew how to tease, drawing her deeper into passionate play, and he

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