Unwrap Me. Susan Lyons

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      Kris didn’t even look at it. “That’s screwed up. It won’t feel like Christmas.”

      Karen slid the last cookie sheets into the oven and came over. “Would you two grow up? You’ll still have a great family Christmas, and your parents will have a romantic cruise.” She grinned broadly. “Hey, for once, Kris and I can please both families. We’ll have a Buchanan Christmas and then a Locke one.”

      “Fine for you two,” Nick grumbled. “What the hell am I going to do? I’ve got Christmas off.” He’d never in his life been alone for the holidays. That wasn’t what Christmas was all about, damnit.

      “Hang out with us,” Karen said. “My folks would love to have you.”

      Maybe being alone wasn’t such a bad fate after all. “No, thanks. Your mom’s always trying to matchmake me with your ditzy cousin.”

      She raised a brow. “If you’d find a girl, people would stop playing matchmaker.”

      “I have no problem finding girls,” he protested. The nagging, teasing, and attempted fix ups had gotten especially bad since Kris, younger than him by a couple years, had married Karen two summers ago. Seemed it was some kind of sin for a younger brother to get hitched first. “But no way do I want to get married. I’m years away from that.” Lots of women he’d dated were looking for a serious relationship, but none had even tempted him.

      “You turn thirty this year.”

      Like he didn’t know his own age. “If I’m not married by the time I’m turning forty, you can hassle me then.” By then he’d probably be ready to settle down. He put on his jacket and picked up a string of lights. “Hey, Kris, we gonna put these things up?”

      2

      December was whacked this year, Nick thought. The last two weeks of faking Christmas—doing the normal stuff but at the wrong time—had been fun, but it hadn’t felt right. And now it was all over. Christmas was over on December 14.

      He couldn’t be mad at his parents, though. At the send-off party on the cruise ship, they’d been as excited as kids at Disneyland. Trying to get in the mood, he’d drunk champagne and spiked eggnog, but each sip had made him feel emptier, so he’d stopped.

      Now the ship would be passing under the Lions’ Gate Bridge while his parents dressed for a fancy late dinner. And he was driving out of downtown Vancouver, heading for a strange woman’s apartment in Kitsilano. He’d been sent by his sister-in-law on some crazy mission.

      On the passenger seat of his Dakota 4x4 was an envelope Karen had said contained a Secret Santa gift for a friend at her office. He’d asked why she couldn’t give it to this Jude person at work tomorrow, but she’d said it had to be delivered to the door. And she couldn’t do it herself, because she and Kris had special plans—wink, wink.

      Lucky them.

      Fact was, Nick wasn’t in any rush to go home and be alone, so he’d agreed.

      This was the start of a few days off work. It would be a while before he’d be back at the fire hall, hanging out with his second family. At any other time of year, being alone wouldn’t have made him think twice. But now everyone was gift shopping, caroling, wrapping presents, baking cookies with their families. And for him that stuff was over for the year.

      God, he was pitiful. Time to get a life. Tomorrow was Friday. In the evening he’d go to the Players Chophouse down by BC Place and check out the women. It’d be nice to find someone fun to share the season with. Somewhere there had to be a great girl who didn’t give a damn about getting a diamond ring on her finger.

      Glad to have a plan, he concentrated on finding the address Karen had given him. The big brown house with cream trim had probably once been a family home, but now it was divided into two apartments. He walked up the steps and pressed the buzzer for the door bearing Jude’s number.

      An overhead light came on, and the door eased open an inch or two, held in place by a chain. A slice of female face peered through the gap. “Yes?”

      “Jude Benedetto? I’m Nick Buchanan. Karen’s brother-in-law. She sent me over.”

      Brown eyes narrowed below well-shaped black eyebrows. “Why?”

      He held out the envelope. “To deliver your Secret Santa gift.”

      Her eyes squeezed shut, as though she was annoyed or in pain. “I keep telling her I’m not into that stuff.”

      “Uh…you don’t like presents?” He raised his eyebrows. This was one unusual woman.

      Her eyes opened again, and she gave a wry smile. “Sorry, Nick. You don’t deserve to get caught in the middle. Thanks for playing messenger. Give me the gift, and you can go home.”

      He liked her voice. Low and musical, threaded with a touch of humor. Nick bit his lip, guessing he was going to piss her off again. “Karen said I had to hang around while you opened it.”

      “What? Oh, good god.” She shook her head and then closed the door.

      What was he supposed to do now? But then he heard the rattle of a chain, and the door opened—wide this time.

      “It’s cold,” she said. “You might as well come in.”

      “Thanks.” As he stepped inside and she closed the door, he stared at her. Man, Jude was something else. A tumbled mess of shiny black hair down past her shoulders. Olive-toned skin and striking features to go with her Italian surname. A build that was tall and shapely, shown off by jeans and a long-sleeved turtlenecked T-shirt the cinnamon-nutmeg color of mulling spices. Same color as her eyes, he realized as she stood in front of him and tilted her head inquiringly.

      Attraction sparked through him, putting every cell—and especially the ones in his cock—on the alert.

      Realizing she’d held out her hand, he put the envelope into it. Deliberately he let his fingers brush hers. Oh, yeah, more sparks. It was sure as hell getting hot in here.

      She ran a fingernail under the sealed flap, muttering, “Let’s get this over with.” When she pulled out a card with Santa on it, her eyebrows drew together. Then she opened it and frowned harder. “What on earth is this supposed to mean?”

      She thrust the card toward him. Below the printed message that read, Santa wishes you a Very Merry Christmas, Karen had written For you, Jude, the perfect gift. Your Secret Santa gives you Nick. He’s just what you wished for.

      What the hell?

      Jude studied the man standing in her entrance hall.

      The moment she’d seen him through the narrow gap between door and frame, she’d noted that he was unusually good-looking. Even though she’d been upset with Karen, she’d had to enjoy the eye candy. Now that he was inside, smelling of a fresh winter night, she could appreciate him fully.

      Nick Buchanan was tall and rugged looking without being bulky, even in a heavy sheepskin jacket. His hair was as black as hers, a little on the long side, but it softened his strong features.

      Features that right now were twisted into СКАЧАТЬ