Mistletoe Madness

Chapter 6

The following afternoon, Tatiana finished editing her notes and saved the file. She rubbed at her temple. She didn’t have a headache, but by all rights she should.

No doubt about it. This had morphed into the worst holiday season in her personal history. She’d done the unthinkable. The unconscionable. She’d had a brain lapse and slipped into some silly infatuation with-dear God, just shoot her now-Cole Mitchell.

She wasn’t even sure how or when it had happened. All she knew was one second he was talking about Corfu and looking at her with those slumberous blue eyes and all of a sudden, she wanted to swim naked with him in the Ionian Sea and then share those sun-laundered sheets.

Or maybe it had started when Parker Longrehn had slimed by their table? What the heck, it could’ve even been the very first time she met him and felt the impact of his silver-blue eyes and his smile tingling through her all the way from the top of her head to her toes, when she’d been happy to latch on to his dad landing him his job so she didn’t tumble head over heels and land at his feet.

She thought about the brief fling she’d had in Prague with a philosophy student she’d met at a small café. They’d both considered it an intense cultural exchange. It would be different with Cole, who wasn’t part of the culture but would be there to savor and share it from a perspective similar to her own.

But the true moment of her wits’ capitulation had been that dance. Had anything ever been more perfectly romantic? She must’ve lost her mind, because it now topped her most-romantic chart, bumping her adventure in Prague down to numero two.

Her entire body had felt more alive, more perfectly attuned to the world with his hand at her waist, with the play of his muscles beneath her left hand, the tease of his warm breath against her skin, that brief brush of his mouth against her ear that had set her on fire. She’d longed for him to keep going. Thank goodness she’d rallied her remaining sense before she’d done something totally stupid like kiss him on the dance floor.

She just needed to keep her distance. Get through the holidays, wrap up this slate of Web assignments. Then he’d go his merry way, she’d go hers and things would be back to normal. Holiday depression was quite common this time of year, and Tatiana was sure she’d simply developed some weird fixated form of the malaise. At least that explanation sat better with her than having developed a terrible case of lust for Tall, Dark and-at this juncture-Dangerous to her peace of mind.

“Ready?” Speak of the devil…Cole poked his dark head around her door.

They were doing an early seating tonight and they’d both had late work, so they were cabbing it together to the restaurant. She shook her head. What was the point in trying to deny the way her breath caught in her throat or the way her heart raced at the sound of his voice?

“I’m almost ready,” she said. “I just need to close this program and get my things.”

An hour and a half later Tatiana was proud of herself. So what that she had some ridiculous infatuation with Cole? Maybe she’d been terribly aware of his body heat in the cab next to hers, but she’d handled it. And dinner tonight was a far cry from last night’s romantic ambience, with its low lighting and sultry notes of the saxophone.

She glanced around. Café Tatu was bright and noisy with the feel and look of a Japanese high-tech sushi bar. Conversation was limited, and the longer they sat there with limited contact, the more in control Tatiana felt. She finished the last of the restaurant’s signature drink, a sake martini. In an effort not to gain too much weight, she never ate all the food on her plate-and she noticed Cole had the same approach-or drank all the wine in her glass. Tonight, however, she polished off her drink. So was it considered a sakini or a marsake?

Heck if she knew, but it was tasty, and she was feeling fully in control of herself. Downright jubilant, in fact. She was no longer suffering from some delusional state of infatuation over Cole Mitchell brought on by holiday depression. True enough, she might feel a touch of lust blooming low in her belly over the way the bright light brought out a hint of brown in his dark hair, but that really didn’t mean anything. Half the women in the room had shot inquiring looks his way, some bolder than others. Grudgingly Tatiana had to give him credit. This was business, not pleasure, and he could’ve easily collected half a dozen phone numbers, but he had been seemingly oblivious to the looks.

They stepped out of the warm, overly bright restaurant on the trendy Upper East Side into the bracing, cold night. It had begun to snow when they’d first entered the restaurant and it continued to fall steadily now.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Cole said with a grin, snowflakes catching in his dark lashes.

“What?”

“It’s as if the city gets a new coat of paint. All the dirty snow is hidden by the new stuff and for a while, everything is fresh again.”

At the corner stood one of the numerous horse-drawn carriages found around Central Park’s periphery. The horse, a dappled gray, snorted, and its breath rose like a smoke signal among the falling snow.

“Are you in a big hurry to get home?” Cole asked.

The quiet of her co-op’s eight-hundred square feet, complete with tabletop tree and her stocking hung by the microwave in the kitchen-hey, as close to a fireplace as she was likely to come-seemed more bleak than appealing after Café Tatu’s noise and bright lights.

“No. I’m not particularly in a hurry. Why?”

He nodded toward the carriage. “How about a ride through Central Park?”

“Why? This isn’t like dancing last night. It’s not part of the dining experience.”

“Maybe because it’s there and we’re here and Central Park at Christmastime with the snow is beautiful.” He peered closer at her. “You have taken a carriage ride through Central Park before, haven’t you?”

Tatiana crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t need to make it sound as if I’ve committed a sin.”

“But you have.” Cole grinned at her and she wanted to grin back like an idiot. “It’s a cardinal sin of omission, but I can help you with that right now.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the horse and buggy.

“With you?”

“That was the general intent.” His smile, with a slight edge of sarcasm, didn’t waver, but Tatiana thought she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. “I don’t see anyone else forming a line.”

The word no hovered on the tip of her tongue until she heard her mother admonishing her to learn to have fun. She had an empty apartment waiting, and Central Park would be beautiful in the snowy onslaught.

“Why not?”

“Gracious, as usual,” he said.

“I wouldn’t want you to think aliens had taken over my body.” She figured if she could just keep things on the same footing they’d been on since she met him, she’d be okay. Holidays or not, she wasn’t expected to be nice to him.

Cole strode over to the driver, his shoulders impossibly wide in his wool winter coat, snow dusting his hair. He exchanged a few words with the man, some folded cash and something else she couldn’t make out at this distance. In less than a minute the driver handed her up into the vehicle. She settled on the worn velvet upholstery and Cole climbed in behind her. Suddenly it was all too close and too tight and he was too large to share such an enclosed space. Her heart thudded against her ribs. But she could hardly leap up and jump out of the carriage simply because they were now sitting shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, even though that minimal contact sent heat surging through her.

She gritted her teeth and looked in the other direction. Their guide spread a blanket over their laps. A half roof, similar to that of a convertible, with “windows” cut into each side, sheltered them from the wet stuff.

Then the driver climbed onto his seat and took up the reins and with a quiet “Heyya,” they were off.

It was like being transported someplace magical where green boughs hung low beneath the weight of white powder and the lights of the city were a far and distant place in the future. A quixotic blend of lassitude and longing stole through her.

Cole turned his head, which brought his mouth a mere inch or so from hers. “Cozy? Warm enough?”

She shifted slightly, enough to put a gap between them. “Toasty. Thanks.”

“You know, I think I’ve finally figured you out,” Cole said.

“Really? Please enlighten me.”

“You want to kiss me.”

She tried not to sputter. “You’re delusional.”

“You can’t add that to your long list of my sins.” The look in his blue eyes filled her with a delicious heat. “Why else would you sit under mistletoe?”

“I didn’t, Mr. Half-Baked Brain.” She glanced up. Sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe hung suspended from the carriage top above them. “Let me remind you, this was your idea.” Precisely. That was the other thing she’d seen him hand the driver.

“Are you implying I want to kiss you?” he said.

“I’m not implying anything.” A woman could drown in the depths of his eyes. “I’m saying it outright. I’m stating it so your simple mind can grasp it. You planned this.” She wasn’t sure whether she was annoyed at his manipulation or flattered.

“Just because I dream about your mouth at night, how it would feel…” He skimmed his fingertip along the bow of her upper lip and she nearly forgot to breathe. His voice was low and seductive in the cocoon of their carriage. “How it would taste…” He traced the seam of her mouth and she felt his touch all the way to her toes. “Is not proof that I would deliberately manipulate you under a sprig of mistletoe. I’m not that kind of guy.”

She nipped the tip of his finger between her teeth. “You’re exactly that kind of guy.”

“Then I might as well live down to your expectations.” He reached beneath her hair and cupped her neck in his hand. She could easily pull away, protest, but-God help her-she just wanted to kiss him. Once.

The air was cold and his mouth was warm and she kissed him back.

“Tatiana,” he murmured her name against her mouth and fisted his hand in her hair. Then he kissed her again and she realized she’d been wrong. She wanted-no, desperately needed-more than one of his kisses. She pressed closer to him, hungry for his warmth. Her tongue met his in a languorous sweep, and she was drowning in the sensation of cold air bracing her skin and the heat of his mouth.

Kissing Cole was like a stiff measure of brandy that warmed her from within and made her nearly drunk from the pleasure. Sweet, hot desire pooled between her thighs and left her breasts feeling full and aching for his touch. Instinctively she shifted and he pulled her nearer beneath the blanket.

They might have gone on kissing for…well, who knew for how long if the carriage hadn’t rocked to a stop, and Tatiana realized she was half sitting on his lap. Her body hummed like a finely tuned instrument ready to be played. If she was a Stradivarius, there was no mistaking the hard press of his bow next to her hip.

Tatiana blinked her eyes open. She scooted off his lap. Ostensibly they were back where they’d started, except she knew with a surety they’d never be back where they’d started.

The air’s chill seeped into her. If they hadn’t been in a public place, she wouldn’t have stopped. Desire and promise simmered in his gaze. He wouldn’t have stopped either. She felt it and she knew he did, too. It was there in his eyes. The next time was inevitable and they’d finish what they’d started tonight. This had satisfied nothing. Instead it had aroused a ravening hunger in her for the touch of his hands, the taste of his skin, the exquisite slide of him inside her.

Cole appeared all too satisfied with himself. “I told you you wanted to kiss me.”

She reached above them, tweaked down the mistletoe and dropped it in his lap.

“Well, darling, if you insist…You certainly won’t get any resistance from me.” His grin was sheer arrogant wickedness.

She offered him the sweetest smile she could muster. “If I wanted to kiss you, I wouldn’t need a piece of greenery to do it.”

She stepped past him and the driver handed her down.

It might not have been the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but it was a damn good exit line.