Free Tinsel My Heart by Christi Barth Page A

an aneurysm. Perversely, it made him want to poke the bear a little more. “I’ll give you a file of the best take-out menus in the city as a housewarming present.”
    Becca turned, gave him her back. Pretended to hunt for something in the refrigerator that Jack was sure she didn’t really need. “I don’t know where you’d get that idea.”
    She must be pretty conflicted to go to all the trouble to lie to him. “Look, I saw the contract.” Jack raised a hand to hold her off when she whirled around fast enough to fly her braids out behind her. “I wasn’t snooping. You’re the one who told me to get the corkscrew. It was hard to miss. So why aren’t we toasting to your big Off Broadway debut?”
    Grabbing a wineglass, Becca half emptied it in three long gulps. “Nothing’s decided.”
    “It better be. Looks like you’ve got a matter of days to stop farting around and sign one of those contracts. What’s the holdup?”
    Clearly, he’d touched a spot sorer than a tooth needing a root canal. He could tell from the flurry of noisy activity. Becca snapped a potholder off the fridge, and sent its magnetic hook flying across the room. Opened and then slammed the oven after pulling out the chicken. Opened and slammed the cupboard doors after retrieving two plates. He sensed a pattern. Because he didn’t want to pick china shards out of his dinner, Jack grabbed them before she could slam them onto the counter. And then noticed the mistletoe and holly pattern stamped in the middle of each plate. Waaaaay over the top. At this rate, he expected to go into the bathroom and find toilet paper printed with Christmas carol lyrics.
    “Damn it, Jack, you’ve been back in my life for less time than I spend Christmas shopping. Do you really think you’ve earned the right to force your two-cents’ worth of unasked-for advice on me?”
    Okay, so he’d pissed her off. Jack decided to toss a little logic out and see if it smothered the brushfire he’d started. “You foisted your opinion of how I should feel about Ty on me. And why you don’t think I should hate Christmas. Seems only fair that I get to toss one of my opinions back on you.”
    A big sigh, one that ruffled her bangs. And then the blue pilot light of temper in her eyes blew right out. “You’re right. Being with you again is weird. Too easy, almost, to slip into our old roles. I’m as comfortable as ever talking to you, as if the lack of contact over the years never happened.”
    Crap. That set entirely the wrong tone for the rest of the evening. Or at least, the long make out session he hoped would happen after dinner. “Comfortable?” Jack nudged aside a braid to drop a kiss on the side of her neck. And was gratified to see goose bumps pop up below the shoved-up cuffs of her sweater. “Comfortable’s not exciting. It’s dull. Predictable. I don’t want you to be comfortable around me.”
    As he continued to nibble down to her collarbone, Becca tilted her head to grant him better access. “Can I have a do-over?” she asked breathlessly.
    “Sure.”
    “I’m comfortable with Jack-my-friend. With Jack-the-man, I’m distinctly off-balance and excited.”
    Excellent. Only fair, in fact, since he was having the same trouble reconciling the sweet-sixteen Becca he remembered with the sensual woman who quivered beneath his lips. “I’ll take that.”
    No, damn it, he’d take more. Jack didn’t want to keep Becca off-balance just to prove a point. He did it so that she’d topple into his arms. Back then, he’d been infatuated with the girl, but confused about what to do with his feelings. Clueless and scared about how and when to bridge the gap between best friends and boyfriend/girlfriend. Well, he damn well wasn’t confused any longer.
    How many times had they cooked macaroni and cheese together, or split a pizza for dinner as teenagers? The blast-from-the-past comfort zone of tonight had to go. He’d promised her a date. And when Jack Whittaker