Misbehaving Under the Mistletoe: On the First Night of Christmas... / Secrets of the Rich & Famous / Truth-Or-Date.com. Heidi Rice

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      ‘Not necessarily,’ she heard herself reply. ‘You could always come with me,’ she added, before she lost her nerve.

      While she totally understood this was about great sex and nothing more, the compelling desire to spend time with him outside the hotel suite was unstoppable.

      It would give them the chance to talk properly. And there were so many things she’d become curious about in the last four days. His failed marriage, his past, how the moody boy from a ‘bad home’ she remembered from school had become such a charismatic and successful man. All things she hadn’t had the chance to ask about. Maybe that was why the heart bumps kept getting worse. Because she wanted to know more about him, and the more she didn’t know, the more he avoided giving her that information, the more vulnerable she felt.

      If he came shopping with her, she’d be able to quiz him without him being able to distract her quite so easily.

      She dismissed the niggling little voice that told her she might be straying into dangerous territory. She’d become more sexually intimate with this man than she had with any other man. He knew things about her body that no other man had ever even bothered to discover. How could it be wrong to want to know a bit more about him? It didn’t mean she would lose sight of her objectives. They’d already set out exactly what this relationship entailed and what it didn’t. And they’d been busy reinforcing that point in the most delicious way possible for three whole days. So where was the harm in satisfying a little of her curiosity about him now?

      Jacob Ryan had been a fascinating enigma ever since she’d had a crush on him at school. He’d always been so taciturn and surly then. And while he had acquired a layer of relaxed easy-going charm as an adult, she couldn’t help wondering if traces of that angry boy still existed, or if he had disappeared for good.

      Surely this would be the perfect opportunity to dispel her fascination with him once and for all. Because she had an awful feeling that all the great sex they’d been having might have started to reawaken that stupid crush. Which would explain all the heart bumps. And that could not be a good thing.

      ‘Nah, you go ahead,’ he said, sitting back down and picking up the paper. ‘I’ll contact my PA. I should schedule some of those meetings today while you’re not here to distract me.’

      ‘But, Jace, that’s silly. It’s Sunday. And it’s Christmas Eve. No one will be able to meet today. And we could have lunch out together.’ She hurried on, trying not to sound too eager, the opportunity to have some of her curiosity satisfied suddenly irresistible. ‘And don’t you have any Christmas shopping to do?’

      Jace stared at Cassie and kept his mouth firmly shut, before he did something really daft, like agreeing to go with her. Ever since she’d turned up at the hotel four nights ago, her small wheel-around suitcase in her hand and a shy but eager smile on her face, he hadn’t let her out of his sight. In fact, he’d barely let her out of his bed. The plan had been to seduce them both into a coma, overdose on great sex for a few days and get the driving need to have her out of his system. Parts A and B of his plan had worked out great—a bit too great. Because part C had clearly been a dead loss. If not, why would he have the driving urge to stop her going out as soon as she had suggested it?

      The woman was becoming an addiction. An addiction that all the really amazing sex seemed to be making worse, not better.

      Luckily he had the perfect excuse not to accept her invitation. He folded the paper, dumped it back on the coffee table. ‘Believe me, Cassidy. You don’t want me along.’

      ‘Yes, I do,’ she said, earnestly. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

      ‘Because I hate shopping. I won’t be good company.’

      ‘Why do you hate shopping?’

      He shrugged; this bit at least was easy. ‘There’s always crowds of people and too much stuff to choose from and it takes for ever. Before you know it you’ve lost the will to live over a rack full of suits. I’d rather be kicked in the …’ He paused when Cassie winced. ‘I’d rather be kicked somewhere a guy definitely does not want to be kicked,’ he finished, deciding to spare her the graphic visual.

      ‘What is it about guys and shopping?’ she said, exasperation edging her voice. ‘It’s the eighth wonder of the world if you do it right.’

      ‘I do do it right,’ he said flatly. ‘I do all my shopping online.’

      She didn’t just wince this time, she flinched. ‘That’s awful. How can you buy clothes on a computer? Especially designer ones. You’ve got to try them on, see how they hang. What the cut’s like. You can’t tell that from a picture and a list of measurements.’

      ‘If I don’t like it, I send it back. Get a refund.’

      ‘Which means standing for hours in a post office queue. Personally, I’d rather take my chances at the shops.’

      He sent her a level look. ‘I don’t do post office queues.’

      ‘How can you send it back if—?’

      ‘Put it this way.’ He stopped her in mid-argument. ‘One of the reasons I worked so hard to earn my first million was so I could send someone else to queue at the post office.’

      She dropped back on her heels, an adorable crease of consternation lining her brow.

      ‘And so I would never have to enter a department store again in this lifetime,’ he added forcefully. ‘Especially not in the West End on Christmas Eve. It’ll be my worst nightmare,’ he said, determined to keep that fact front and centre. He didn’t do shopping, even with someone as cute and sexy as Cassie.

      ‘No, it won’t,’ she said, clearly not prepared to be beaten. ‘It won’t even take that long.’

      ‘How so?’

      ‘I happen to be a champion shopper.’

       Yeah, right. Most women didn’t even know what that was.

      ‘I’m getting the impression from that sceptical look that you don’t believe me,’ she said. ‘How about I make you a bet that we get everything done in under an hour?’

      ‘How many people do you have to get stuff for?’ he asked judiciously.

      ‘Umm.’ She curled her plump bottom lip under her teeth as if she were counting up the number in her head. ‘Ten. No.’ Her eyes met his, the bright light of excitement in them almost tangible. ‘Eleven.’

      ‘Eleven presents in under an hour? In the West End? On Christmas Eve? For a woman who loves to shop?’ he clarified.

      She nodded enthusiastically.

      ‘Not possible.’ This had to be the sucker bet to end all sucker bets. ‘And what do I get if you don’t manage it?’

      ‘Hmm, let me think.’ She pressed the tip of her finger to her mouth, then leaned forward and touched his chest. Her nail trailed down over one nipple, across his ribs, down his abs and stopped just short of his belly button where his robe closed. She sent him a coy smile. ‘I’m sure I can think of something that you’ll enjoy,’ she said, her voice husky with provocation.

      Despite his recent СКАЧАТЬ