Wild Holiday Nights

She sounded exasperated, but he knew he had her on the ropes.

“Because I owe Nathan. He saved my hide a few months ago, and frankly, I wouldn’t even be standing here if it weren’t for him. He asked me to do a simple favor for him, and I agreed. I’d like to keep my promise, even though it’s clear that you’re okay.”

She stared at him for several long moments, her shoulders dropping as she pushed a block of cake across the table, relenting.

“Fine. It’s a deal. You suck, you leave. Wash your hands, put on some gloves and let’s see what you can do.”

2

CALLA WATCHED GIDEON study the block of cake as if wondering where to start. He looked at her drawing, her cake plans, and then at the bells she’d done already. He didn’t say a word.

Ever since she’d met him on the sidewalk, her heart hadn’t settled down for a second. He had beautiful hands. Rough from the carpentry work that he did off hours, but nicely shaped. Masculine. They seemed too large for the delicate block of cake, but he was gentle, too.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

She hadn’t thought she’d ever see him again. They’d shared a kiss eight years ago. She’d still been a virgin then, and she’d wanted more, but he’d backed off.

She’d only met one guy she liked in culinary school—Max—and she’d thought he’d be the one, but he had run as fast as he could in the opposite direction when he’d found out about her untouched status. He’d said he couldn’t take that responsibility.

She’d been home for a month that summer with one goal on her mind—to change that status before she went back to the city. Gideon had appeared to be an excellent solution to her situation. They’d had sparks from the moment they’d met, and she’d wanted him. That had been new to her, too.

She’d walked with him across the field down by the old barns under the auspices of showing him around the ranch. She’d assumed they were on the same page—that he wanted the same thing she did. She’d known he was attracted to her. She’d been experienced enough to know that—and to try to take advantage of it.

When he’d kissed her, she’d known she’d made the right choice. His lips had melted her like candle wax at the first touch. His hands on her back, where he’d dragged his fingers back and forth along the skin under the band of her jeans, had set her on fire for the first time ever.

How could she ever forget those hands?

He could’ve had her right there and then, and oh, she had wanted him to do just that. But he’d stopped, made some vague excuse about it not being the right time or place and kissed her once more, lightly, before he’d walked back to the party. Alone.

Twice rejected, still a virgin. What Gideon had done was even worse than what Max had done. She’d been willing, warmed up and ready. She’d wanted him. She’d chosen him. It had been her first real attempt at seduction.

And he’d walked away.

It had taken awhile for the bruise on her ego to heal, and eventually she’d even had to give Gideon credit for doing the right thing. Kind of.

He’d been a few years older, wiser, and he was her brother’s friend. His reasons were better than Max’s, or at least nobler. Still, at the time it had hurt, and she didn’t forget that either.

Now here he was, sitting in her bakery, holding cake in his hands as if it was a slab of wood, peeling off some delicate edges, thinly sliced, as he eased his way into the block.

She went to her drawer, grabbed another knife and some cake from the freezer and started another bell. She really didn’t have any time to waste, since now she’d have to fix or redo whatever mess Gideon made. But if this little deal sent him on his way, it was worth it. He was far too distracting.

She started carving, silently inventing ways to kill her brother Nathan the next time she saw him. She was going to give her older brother an earful for dragging her into whatever was between the two men.

“There. How’s that so far?”

Calla had been so lost in her ruminations that she wasn’t paying attention to the minutes ticking by. Gideon’s question shook her out of her trance to find him holding half of a perfectly shaped bell in his hand. He’d managed to get that far in the same time that she had barely made a dent.

“It’s...great.”

It was better than great. It was easily as good as hers.

“Don’t sound so glum about it.”

“I guess I should have studied carpentry instead of pastry,” she muttered, knowing she was being a bad sport.

His bell might actually be better than hers, with a few little flourishes that she approved of. There was even a small smattering of applause outside the window as onlookers approved of his effort. She’d reopened the window not to embarrass him on purpose, but because she did so on a schedule, when the most people were walking by at intervals during the day.

A few more than usual were here this afternoon. Drawn in by her new helper? A number of them were female.

“So I get to stay and help you out?”

She frowned. “Looks like.”

Then he put his cake and knife down and reached across the table to put his hand over hers.

Ay caramba.

Calla was pretty sure her entire body sizzled at the touch. Just like it had years ago.

She drew her hand away, self-conscious with people watching.

“Calla, listen, if you really want me to leave, I will. Would you mind, though, if I stop by the station and check in on their progress finding your attacker? And maybe let me take you to dinner tonight? I can’t go back until tomorrow anyway.”

Damn, he was being so nice. Calla knew she was being unreasonable.

“I’m sorry, I just... It’s family stuff. I’m mad at Nathan, and at life, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked gently.

Calla let out a breath she was holding. He was being so nice. She ended up telling him about the financial trouble the shop was in, her guilt about not going home and just about everything else.

“So you see, I shouldn’t go to dinner, but it’s not about you. I have to keep working on this,” she finished. She didn’t sound very convincing, though, even to herself. “I have to do whatever it takes to keep this place going.”

“Well, you have to eat.”

“Gideon—”

“Why don’t you let me help you at least finish the bells? Then we can see?”

Calla considered. Why was she being so stubborn about this?

“I...guess. I mean, if you really want to, I wouldn’t say no. They seem to like you.”

She looked out at the crowd—noticing the appreciative looks several women closer to the window were giving Gideon.

“I’d better bring out some samples.”

“I can do it, if you like.”

“Um, sure.”

She put together a tray and let him take it out. She noticed he grabbed a stack of the business cards she kept on the counter and took those as well, handing one out with each sample.

Why hadn’t she ever thought of that?

She continued to work as he chatted with the group and eventually came back in with an empty tray.

“You received rave reviews, as usual,” he said. “And I had an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t you let them decide on whether you should go to dinner with me tonight?”

“What?”

“Make them feel more involved. We can ask them if you should go to dinner with me.”

“Are you saying we should take a vote?” Her voice rose slightly, incredulous.

“Why not? Maybe if you can find more ways to get them involved each day, you’ll draw more and more people. That’s the point, right?”

Calla narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re a cop?”

He grinned. “My sister’s in marketing.”

“I see. That was a good move with the business cards. But I think I can make up my own mind about dinner. If we can get enough work done, I think it would be nice. Thank you.”

And I might not say no to anything else you have in mind, either.

Not that she would throw herself at him again only to be rebuffed—she’d had enough of that—but...her eyes drifted down to his hands.

Gideon grinned, sitting back down after washing his hands again.

“You already told them to vote yes, didn’t you?” Calla intuited, and saw his smile widen.

She felt the responding smile tug at the edges of her lips, her mood lightening somewhat. It was kind of nice to have someone to talk to as she worked. She hadn’t shared a kitchen with anyone for a few years, and she’d missed it. Or maybe it was Gideon’s company in particular that was so nice.

“What about your own family? Don’t you need to be home for the holiday?” she asked.

He returned to his bell, finishing it up before walking to the freezer to grab another hunk of cake.

“No, not this year. That’s part of why I offered to help Nathan out. My mother passed away over the summer, unexpectedly. My sister invited me to her place in Arizona for the holiday, but honestly, it was easier to get away. I’ve never seen New York at Christmas, so I figured, why not?”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your mom. You were close?”

“We were. She raised us alone—my dad died in the line of duty when we were kids, so you know how it is.”

Calla swallowed hard. She did know, sort of. Her family had had their own share of close calls.

“I do. Dad was almost killed in an accident when I was twelve, and I lived in fear every time he left the house after that. For Nathan, Bill and Gina, too, for that matter.”

Gideon frowned. “Is that why you left? Too much worry?”

Calla looked up sharply. “I didn’t leave. I went to school, which happened to be here in New York. But yes, I suppose it was nice to be in an environment where I didn’t have to think about the danger they were in every day or listen to all of the police and fire reports over dinner every night.”

“Not to mention how much of a pain in the butt it had to be when your older brothers were all cops, too,” Gideon said with a grin, lightening the mood. “Had to make dating tough.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “You have no idea.”

She and Gideon worked and chatted for a few more hours, until the skies outside the shop window darkened. When Calla got up to stretch her legs, she saw it was snowing like crazy out.

“I still love seeing the snow,” she said. “We got some in Texas now and then, but not like this.”

Gideon joined her at the window.

“This is the first snow I’ve ever seen—real snow, not the slushy Texas stuff,” he said.

Calla turned to him in surprise. “Really? You’ve never seen snow?”

He shook his head, staring out the window in awe that made the young boy in him shine through.

“Not like this.”

Her heart warmed. “Well, then, what are we doing in here?” She opened the door and went outside.

He joined her just in time for her to smack him in the side of the head with a makeshift snowball. The snow was soft and fluffy, so no harm done. Calla laughed at his momentary shock, and then at the sheer glee in his expression as he scooped up some snow and threw it back at her.

He managed to get her at the back of her neck, and the snow slid down her back, making her wiggle as the cold snaked down her spine.

“Oh, good shot, but so cold,” she said, still laughing and shivering at the same time.

Then she caught his eye, how he watched her, and she stopped wiggling. Gideon’s dark hair was plastered against his forehead, wet from the snow, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. The look he leveled at her, though, was hot enough to make her forget the icy snow sliding down her back.

For a moment, so much heat leaped between them they might as well have been back behind the barn in midsummer rather than standing in the middle of a snowstorm.

Then he broke the connection, shaking the snow from his dark hair as he turned to go back inside.

Oh, no, you don’t.

Turnabout was fair play, and Calla hadn’t grown up with two older brothers without knowing how to hold her own. She scooped up some snow, quickly catching up with him as he walked back into the store. She grabbed the back of his sweater, dropping the icy bundle down inside.

His yelp was her reward.

When he spun around, wiggling as she had, she grinned and closed the distance between them.

“Wait. I know a better way to warm you up,” she said, pushing up on tiptoe and kissing him.

She meant it to be a quick kiss—or maybe she didn’t. Calla was exhausted, thrown off her game by the strange week and by being so close to Gideon for most of the day.

All she could think about while they’d been making those wedding bells was the kiss she’d had with him nearly a decade ago.

She’d wondered if it would be as good now.

It wasn’t. It was better.

His lips were still cool from the outdoors, firm and just right. She darted her tongue out to taste him and his arms came around her, pulling her up tight against him. She slid her hands under his sweater to flatten her palms against his solid—and slightly wet—back. Gideon took over the kiss almost without her realizing it, parting her lips wider as his tongue made all kinds of promises to hers.

Calla moaned and pressed her hips into his, and then again as his erection nudged against her belly through his slacks.

“If you need to keep an eye on me, this is a much better way, I’d say,” she whispered into his ear.

As soon as she said the words, Gideon’s hold loosened, and he backed away.

“I’m sorry, Calla. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She blinked, still not quite recovered from his touch. “Why not? And technically, by the way, I did that to you.”

“I thought after so much time we wouldn’t have the same chemistry, or I...I don’t know what I thought.”

She frowned. “But we do have it. And what’s wrong with it? Unless...” Her stomach dropped as she realized what could be the very large problem. “You have someone back home?”

She’d never thought he might be attached, even married. Her eyes dropped to his left hand. No ring. But that didn’t mean anything these days. A lot of people she knew were in committed relationships without the traditional symbols.

“Absolutely not. There’s no one.”

Her knees almost sagged with relief.

“Except your brother Nathan.”

Calla froze, momentarily stunned.

“My brother? Wait. No. I know for a fact he’s been seeing a woman he’s fairly serious about for the last year—”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “No, not like that. Jeez. I mean, he’s my friend, and he asked me to come here to see if you were okay, not get you into bed. I’m fairly sure doing that breaks some kind of code that would allow him to shoot me if he found out.”

Calla read between the lines as fast as Gideon spoke.

“But you’d be interested otherwise?”

“I’m so interested I’ll be using a lot of cold water back at my hotel tonight.”

“So...” Calla posited what seemed to be the obvious thought. “Why does he have to find out? What business is it of his?”

“You think he wouldn’t know if I was seeing his younger sister?”

“I’m not talking about a long-term relationship, Gideon. I’m not moving back to Texas, and I assume you aren’t planning to move to New York, so...why not enjoy each other’s company for the holidays? I can show you the city, and you can make sure no bad men attack me.”

“I think I would be the bad man attacking you,” he said dryly, but she could also see he was interested.

“Sounds good to me.”

In part, Calla almost couldn’t believe the words coming out of her own mouth, but the more she spoke, the more she convinced herself, if not Gideon.

This was the perfect way to spend her Christmas holiday. A few days of no-strings mattress gymnastics with Gideon was suddenly all she wanted for Christmas.

Then he shook his head. “If he asked, I’d have to tell him the truth, and it could ruin a good friendship. Not to mention the trust we have on the job. You know that trust is a serious thing.”

She couldn’t argue the point. The wind went out of Calla’s sails as she realized she’d done the exact thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do—she’d thrown herself at Gideon again, only to have him walk away.

She felt like an idiot. Humiliated twice by the same guy. Wouldn’t she ever learn?

“Fine. You’re absolutely right, and I understand. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to close up for the night. Your help was great. Thank you,” she added stiffly. “You can ask the police anything you want. The detective in charge was Howser. I hope you have a nice trip back.”

With that, she walked to the door and held it open in a clear message for him to leave. The cold air rushing in reminded her of how hot he’d gotten her minutes before, adding to her resolve. If he was going to walk away this time, she was making sure it was at her invitation.

Gideon blew out a breath. “Calla, please—”

“Really, I do understand, Gideon. Have a safe trip.”

When he halted his progress, pausing next to her by the door, she thought for one hopeful second that he’d changed his mind. That he might sweep her up and say the heck with her brother, but he only looked at her one more time with regret and then stepped out the door into the snow.

Calla shut the door behind him, locked it and went back to work on her cake. She’d lied about going home to sleep. Right now the last thing she wanted was to go to bed alone.

3

GIDEON KNEW HE’D done the right thing—just as he’d done by walking away eight years ago.

Doing the right thing sucked, but it was a lesson his father had drilled into him when he was very young.

He wished he could have broken the rules this once. But Nathan wasn’t just another cop on the force; he was Gideon’s partner. Nate had trained him, and they’d worked together ever since. He’d saved Gideon’s life, and the trust they shared wasn’t something Gideon took lightly. Gideon was supposed to make sure Nate’s sister was safe—not seduce her.

Calla’s offer of a holiday affair had been torture to turn down, especially since he hadn’t been with anyone in a while. On top of the demands of his job, his mom’s death and the resulting grief, sex had been the last thing on his mind.

Until he’d seen Calla. Now it was all he could think about. She was right—who would know? Well, he would.

He entered the large double doors of the local precinct where Calla had reported her break-in, announcing his arrival at the reception desk.

Gideon looked at postings on a corkboard in the hall for a few minutes, waiting.

“Detective Stone?”

An older guy, short and squat, but no less tough for his stockier stature, stood behind him. Gideon could tell Detective Howser had been in the game for a while. He’d probably seen it all, and more.

“Detective Howser. Call me Gideon. Thanks for taking a minute to talk to me.”

“Sure, no problem,” the detective responded with a thick New York accent, waving Gideon on to follow him back to his office.

Inside, he shut the door. “What can I do for you, Tex?”

Gideon grinned, not minding the moniker the detective casually threw his way. “I wondered if you could give me any more information on an attempted robbery that happened four days ago at a bakery in Chelsea...”

Awhile later, Gideon emerged from the precinct resolved not to leave the city, or Calla. Not just yet, anyway.

The fingerprints taken from the knife belonged to a repeat offender with a long rap sheet—one that included several assaults as well as robberies and other crimes. He’d done two stints in prison already, and tended to hold a grudge. Gideon’s gut was telling him it wasn’t time to head back to Texas just yet. Howser had said they were scouring the neighborhoods to turn him up. Once Gideon knew the police had the thief in custody, then he could relax and consider his work done. However, Calla wasn’t exactly going to welcome him back into her shop, or her life.

Returning to her shop in his rental car, he drove by to check that she was in the store, working—she was. He found himself some coffee and a sandwich, and then parked in a spot down the street from the shop, under a snow-covered tree. The streets were busy. She didn’t know his car, and Gideon was good enough not to be spotted tailing her—and to spot anyone else who might be following her, as well.

He settled in, watching Calla’s storefront. From a distance. Which was exactly as it should be. He had no place coming on to or kissing Calla Michaels. This was the price he’d pay for getting too close in the first place.

It made for a long afternoon and evening. Calla didn’t even leave to get dinner; she worked straight through, sitting at her table. The crowd in front of the shop seemed a bit larger today.

Did Calla’s family have any clue what amazing work she was doing, and the effort she put into it? When Nathan had said she ran a bakery, Gideon had pictured doughnuts and Italian bread, but what Calla did was as much art as baking. Clearly as dedicated as she was talented, she easily worked the same kind of hours that he—or any of her family members—did.

He needed to stretch his legs and got out of the car to take a turn around the neighborhood while keeping an eye on the shop. It was considerably less busy this time of night, when Calla’s Cakes was one of the last businesses open.

Shortly after midnight, the lights in the shop turned off and Calla finally emerged from the front door. She’d mentioned that her apartment was within walking distance when they’d been chatting in the bakery. Gideon locked his car and followed on foot.

He’d make sure she was safely tucked inside for the night, then he could come back and move the car to a spot near her home. So much for the pricey hotel room he’d booked, but this was the job. It was going to be a long, cold night, he thought as he pulled his coat around him, keeping a safe distance behind Calla from the opposite side of the street.

She walked with the crisp step he saw other New Yorkers use, moving through the dark street to her destination as if completely focused on that task alone. The area seemed safe enough—still, it was late, and she was alone.

Five minutes later, she turned to climb the stairs toward the wrought iron doors of an older brick apartment building. There was a decorated tree on one side of the yard, and a menorah across the walk. Several tenants had decorated their windows as well, making it very cheerful and bright. Near the top, Calla slipped her hand inside her bag for her keys.

The next few seconds were a blur. Everything happened so fast that Gideon was unprepared when he saw a shadow dart out and grab Calla from behind, dragging her back down the steps and into a small courtyard.

Gideon was across the street in seconds, reaching for his gun—which he didn’t have, and wasn’t allowed to carry, in the city. That didn’t stop him, though.

Dashing into the darkness where the intruder had dragged Calla, Gideon called her name and heard her muffled reply. Someone was covering her mouth. He saw them scuffling in the corner under a barren tree and ran in that direction, taking the attacker by the back of his coat collar and pulling.

“Get off her!” Gideon growled. Primal emotion ran through him as he yanked the man back from Calla, and then...extreme pain made him gasp.

Hollers of agony filled the quiet courtyard. A tenant in the building yelled something from a window up above them. Gideon was knocked back on his butt into the snow. Someone fell on top of him—the attacker? He couldn’t see; his eyes were on fire. He grasped for something, an arm, a leg, but there was nothing.

“Calla? Where are you? Are you okay?” Gideon pushed himself up from the wet ground and saw a blurry image of Calla appear in his view.

“I’m right here, Gideon, where did you come from? Oh, my, I’m so sorry, look at you, let’s get inside...”