Jingle Bell: Rock Part 20

Jessie s.h.i.+vered, pus.h.i.+ng the thought away. Or at least giving her best shot to turning her thoughts from the past.

But memories of Blue's naked body, memories of being as physically close to him as a woman could possibly be to a man-memories of her head on his chest, her hand deep between his legs, his arm wrapped around her with such desperation that their bodies seemed more one than two-were not easily buried. Especially when those very memories had brought her here.

It was late in the day, at least by September, Texas, standards, yet Jessie kept her sungla.s.ses in place, deflecting both the final rays of the setting sun and the curious glances that had tracked her westward progress through town. Now nothing lay ahead but the highway that would take her to Blue... and his Christmas tree farm.

If anything in her snooping surprised her, the discovery of Blue's having converted twenty of the Miller homestead's sixty acres did-though, having read about the Virginia pine growing and harvesting timetable, she supposed he'd had his father's help in the venture's launch.

The year-old profile she'd searched out in the Texas Monthly online archives mentioned that Ann and Phil Miller, Blue's parents, had retired to the dry Arizona desert, leaving the family business in the very capable hands of their only son.

Blue Miller, CEO. Jessie smiled.

With September in her rearview mirror, she scanned the road ahead for the cutoff to the Miller place. When she'd left for her four years at Wellesley financed by her maternal grandmother's trust, Blue had been on his way to Stephen F. Austin and a business degree. It was nice to see the proof of his success. She knew how much his parents had sacrificed to ensure their only son's future.

The most intriguing thing her research had uncovered, however, was the fact that Blue had never married. An online issue of the county newspaper featuring an article on his Christmas tree farm had labeled him one of the area's most eligible bachelors. But the issue had been five months old, and Jessie hadn't wanted to take a chance on showing up if his status had changed.

To that end, she'd bribed her marketing department's administrative a.s.sistant with a week's worth of lunches to give him a call. They'd concocted a story that the radio station where Jessie worked as an account executive was considering a Christmas promo involving a weekend stay at a local B&B topped off with the selection of a live Christmas tree.

Would he mind if they sent one of their people out to tour his place? Such a visit, of course, would be arranged not to interfere with his family life. Blue had obligingly let slip that he had no family locally and lived on his own, setting Jessie's plan into action.

As driven as she knew Blue to be, as pa.s.sionate about life, she had a hard time believing he'd have chosen celibacy over a committed relations.h.i.+p. That left her believing-hoping-that his s.e.xual involvements were casual. For her plan to work, she needed him to be open to her suggestion that they warm up the season by creating a few new Christmas memories.

Blue Miller had been the best s.e.x she'd ever had. She'd come back to find out if he still was.

Chapter Two.

One of these days, Blue decided, he really did need to learn to say no. Why the h.e.l.l a Dallas radio station thought any of their listeners would want to make a trip to September for a Christmas tree was beyond him. But marketing wasn't his thing, and he'd agreed to meet with the rep from the radio station before thinking the idea all the way through. At least nothing legal or binding had been signed.

Turning onto his long, winding drive, he wondered again why he hadn't called this whole thing off days ago. h.e.l.l, it was barely a month until Christmas. The station's contact name and number were scratched right there on the chalkboard back in his store office. Yet when he'd finally looked up this afternoon from the tons of work still waiting, he'd realized the rep would've left Dallas hours before.

He'd had no choice but to save his spreadsheet, shut down his laptop, grab his coat and hit the road. And obviously it was even later than he'd thought, he grumbled, grunting as his pickup bounced through the gate and into the clearing surrounding the house.

An electric blue Mercedes Kompressor sat parked alongside the covered, wraparound porch. Feeling perversely inconvenienced, he parked directly behind, catching a flash of movement near the porch swing before climbing down from the cab.

He had a b.u.t.tload of orders to see to for Miller's Annual New Year's Deals. He should be spending the evening at work, not making like the nice Christmas tree farmer at home. When his father asked about the delay in orders, Blue would remind the older man whose idea it was four years ago to plant all those d.a.m.n pine seedlings. And who hadn't ended up sticking around to see the venture through.

With his work boots crunching on the crushed-sh.e.l.l drive, Blue headed for the porch steps, determined to send the station's rep packing and get his own b.u.t.t back to the store.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, mounting the four steps in two strides. "I got caught up at the office." But that was all of his. .h.i.t-the-road spiel he had time to get out before coming face-to-face with his past.

Jessie Buchanan had grown into a h.e.l.l of a woman.

She wore black leather, black silk and black denim: a motorcycle jacket, a low-cut T-s.h.i.+rt and tight, skinny jeans. Her skin was as porcelain-pale as ever, her eyes brilliantly knowing. Her toenails were painted a deep lush red; she had on the strangest looking pair of heeled sandals he'd ever seen. Lace-up and velvet and black.

She looked nothing like the girl he remembered, the girl who'd turned his gut inside out when she'd licked her lips and begged. Not for what she wanted; it had never been about what she wanted. It had always been about what she wanted to do. For him. To him. He choked back the memory, took the last step onto the porch and stopped. He wondered what she was up to. He wondered if he wanted to know.

Fists shoved into jeans pockets and shoulders hunched forward against the cold, he acknowledged her with no more than the suggestion of a nod. "Jess."

"Hi, Blue." She walked toward him, her hips swaying in that same seductive walk he'd seen for years in his dreams. "You're looking good."

She looked better than good. She looked like the breakfast he craved when he rolled out of bed, the sinful dessert he never took time to savor. He lived on fast food and coffee, his life having become a series of quickies when his back had been turned.

And now here was Jessie Buchanan, looking like a bad girl who understood quickies well. The thought stirred the primitive heat seeing her had kindled deep between his legs.

"It's the air." He pulled in a huge breath. "The clean country living. It does a body good."

"You're full of s.h.i.+t," she said and moved even closer. "You always were."

"And I see you're still a mouthy little thing." Only she wasn't so little at all. She wasn't any taller; she just seemed so, her presence that of a lioness, confident, proud, where once she'd been more mousy and meek, skittish and easily cowed. Except with him. Never with him.

And then she was in his arms, saying h.e.l.lo with her body and smelling like the suns.h.i.+ne missing from these dreary winter days. His arms went around her waist; hers wrapped around his neck. He nuzzled his face to her hair and breathed deeply, remembering, reliving, aching from more than the press of her thighs to his, her belly to his, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his chest where his heart had started to thunder.

He stepped back and set her away, holding her upper arms because he didn't want her to bolt just yet and wasn't sure if she'd broken herself of the habit. And then he found himself shaking his head. This woman, this Jessie. Bolting looked to be the farthest thing from her mind. Long dark lashes swept down, swept up, her eyes as green as he remembered, as green as pine seedlings soaking up summer's sun, as green as winter's harvest of Christmas trees. The trees... G.o.ddammit! She was here because of the Christmas trees.

He released her as if he'd been felled by an ax. The victorious look on her face confirmed his suspicion. "You're from the radio station, aren't you?" Her growing smile stirred the coals of his wariness. He moved back into her s.p.a.ce, towering above her, glaring down. "What the h.e.l.l's going on?"

She ran a hand through her silky black hair, shoving it back from her face. She licked her lips and started to turn away. He wasn't going to let it happen. They were separated now by ten inches, not ten years, and he held home-field advantage.

He reached out, ran his hand along the side of her neck, his fingers into the hair at her nape, and cupped the back of her skull. "I'm waiting here, Jess. I want an answer."

She nodded, a smile playing along the line of her lips slick from the touch of her tongue and tinted a dark winter rose. "You used to be more trusting."

He snorted. "I used to be eighteen."

"So did I," she said, turning her face to press her lips, the tip of her tongue, the barest edge of her teeth, to the inside of his forearm. "We're both older now, Blue. And hopefully more than a little bit wiser."

His pride ordered him to let her go. His c.o.c.k that remembered that warm and wet mouth told him to pull her body to his. "Being wiser is the reason I don't trust you. If you set this up... if you set me up... so help me I'll-"

"You'll do what? Turn me over your knee?"

Why did she look like that's exactly what she wanted him to do? Not fifteen minutes ago he'd been working on a plan to get out of this deal with the radio station. Now the idea didn't seem like the same waste of time, except he knew that's exactly what it was.

He couldn't work with this woman. f.u.c.k her, yeah.

But deal with her professionally? Keep their contact strictly business when she was the last person on Earth he'd have invited back into his life?

He hated her even more now that she was standing here, her lips parted and her breathing labored, making him forget why he had never wanted to see her again. He needed to remember her leaving, the way she had given but half of the story, never telling him the whole truth. He tilted her head back, stared directly down into her eyes. His pulse roared in his ears-and in his pants, where his non-thinking head wanted a rough-and-raw pounding revenge.

"I think you'd better get back in that fancy import of yours and get the h.e.l.l back to Dallas before you regret having come here."

"You haven't even heard my proposal yet." She caught at her lower lip with her teeth, once, twice.

The fog of breath she exhaled surrounded him, a warm coc.o.o.n in the rapidly frosting air. It was all Blue could do not to slide his hand into her panties and see if she was as slick and wet as the look in her eyes promised.

"I don't need to hear it. This Christmas tree thing isn't going to happen. There's only one thing that ever worked between us, Jess. And I don't think you're here to sleep with me."

"Think again."

Chapter Three.

His eyes flared. That was the only way she knew to describe the flash of fire that consumed her where she stood.

His grip on her head tightened, and Jessie wondered if she would survive the force of his body when it finally slid into hers. When she'd made the decision to head for September, she'd never expected to find the boy she'd last seen.

But she sure as h.e.l.l hadn't expected to find Blue Miller to be such a large, compelling and dangerous threat.

"Wait a minute. Are you saying the radio station promo story is bulls.h.i.+t?" He skipped right over the part about her being here to sleep with him. And he snorted. "You don't give a s.h.i.+t about the trees. You don't even work for the station, do you?"

"No. I mean yes, I do." Deep breath, Jessie. Deep breath. She'd never pull this off if she kept stumbling over her words, if he thought she was still the girl who'd run, who hadn't possessed the backbone to stay and bring her father up on charges of abuse. "And I am here because of the station's Christmas promo. It's just not..."

"Just not what?" He let her go then, took a step back and dragged a palm down his face before jamming both hands to his hips. "Just not a promo that has anything to do with my trees?"

"Do you mind if we go inside? I'll explain everything. I swear." She s.h.i.+vered and told herself the night fog rolling in off the fields and surrounding the house was the cause. "It's too cold out here to talk."

"Oh, yeah, sure." He dug his keys from his front pocket and headed for the door. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I was waiting for you to take off your clothes."

She glared at his back. "Very funny."

"Hey." He shrugged. "You said you were here to sleep with me."

"Sleeping wasn't exactly what I had in mind, Blue, though I'd be more than happy to share your bed for the weekend."

She made the offer to his broad back. He froze, stiffened, then pushed open the door, letting off a muttered string of curses both raw and foul.

She ducked beneath his outstretched arm, dragging fingertips over his sculpted abs as she pa.s.sed, amazed by the strength in his body, amazed by her own strength of will, the steadiness of her voice.

Hugging herself tightly against a case of the jitters that she hoped pa.s.sed for cold, she walked to the center of the front room. The furniture had changed, as had the color scheme and the decor. But still she knew this house better than the one she'd grown up in. Never had she felt the same sense of things being right, and safe, as she had when here with the Millers.

Even now, tendrils of clinging nostalgia remained...

Blue shut the door and turned the deadbolt. The thud echoed from her jaw to her toes. "You're a.s.suming a lot here, Jess. Like the fact that there may not be room in my bed."

"Why? Are you sleeping in a twin size these days?" She glanced toward the staircase that had once led to his room before turning to face him. "That never posed a problem before."

His pulse ticked in the vein at his temple. "I wasn't talking about the size of my bed."

"You live here alone, right?"

He nodded.

"Are you expecting company tonight?"

He shook his head.

"Then I'm not sure I see the problem. I'm talking about s.e.x." Now to get the messy past out of the way so they could get down to business. "It's not like I'm asking you to marry me."

"No. You wouldn't. We both know how you feel about marrying me." Pus.h.i.+ng away from the front door on which he'd been leaning, he shrugged out of his denim jacket and tossed it over the back of the sofa. Then he headed to the kitchen, leaving her with a look that made his feelings about her ten-year-old rejection quite clear.

Her eyes stinging, she watched him go, his shoulders as broad as she remembered, his legs as powerful and long. She'd hurt him, yes, but still her body responded. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s swelled, her body quickened, yet hesitation crept in.

She'd told herself while concocting her plan that her motives were all about reliving the s.e.x. She hadn't wanted to face or discover the truth-that Thomas Miller was the only man capable of making her body respond. But reality paced the tiled floor in the kitchen, banging cabinet doors, blasting water from the faucet, abruptly shutting off the flow.

Jessie waited, letting Blue steam and letting the coffee brew before she followed. She left her leather jacket on the couch next to his, brave enough now to face him wearing the low-cut and long-sleeved T-s.h.i.+rt she'd bought with this reunion in mind. She wore no bra, and five-percent Lycra gave a clingy oomph to the rich black silk.

Blue had loved her b.r.e.a.s.t.s more than any part of her body. She knew she wasn't playing fair, dressing to remind him of that fact, but she wanted him to remember what she couldn't forget. The way he'd buried his face against them, the way he'd suckled.

The way he'd straddled her chest, pressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s together and repeatedly shoved his c.o.c.k between. His face had grown strained, veins standing rigid along his neck with his effort to hold back, to wait. He'd failed, accepting the invitation of her open mouth every single time.

Oh boy, she thought and took a deep breath, wiping sweaty palms on her thighs before stepping from hardwood onto the kitchen floor tiled in colors of sienna and earth. Blue stood in profile, hands braced on the black marble countertop, shoulders hunched as he stared at the coffee streaming from basket to pot.

She wanted to go to him; she ached to hold him. The need to tell him again that she'd loved him wrapped vise-like fingers around her heart. But then he straightened, and he looked at her, and she thanked G.o.d that she hadn't said a word or made a move toward him. His eyes were cold and hurt, and he wasn't in the mood for sympathy or soothing.

He certainly wasn't in the mood for s.e.x.

"One cup," he ground out. "One cup and you're gone. The caffeine will get you back to Dallas."

"I'm not going back to Dallas tonight."

"Fine. There's a Motel Six on the interstate. And the Kettle next door serves ham and sweet potatoes every night in December."

She clamped down on the need to tell him what she could easily show him instead. Her heels clicked against the smart Italian tile on her way across the room. She kept her gaze locked on his, looking away only long enough to reach up into the cupboard for a mug. The one she set next to the pot would easily hold a quart.

One of Blue's dark brows went up. "You drink that much; you'd better get a room. You'll be needing a bathroom every ten minutes, and between here and Dallas you're outta luck."

"So I'll get a room." Whatever. She wasn't going back to Dallas. Not with all the excuses she'd made, the begging off of parties and intimate dinners she'd done to free up this weekend.

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug and poured.

Jessie wrapped both hands around her mug and brought it to her mouth, blowing across the surface before she sipped. The flavor was earthy and rich and, coffee-sn.o.b that she was, she knew it hadn't come prepackaged off the Maxi Mart shelf.

She wasn't completely successful keeping a smile from her face. "I didn't know you could get coffee like this in September."

"You can't." Blue sipped and grimaced at the burn. "I pick it up coming through Palestine or Tyler."