Free My Hot Holiday by Kate Crown Page A

hot water.
    "Merry Christmas to you, as well," I reply.
    “See, it wasn't that hard,” I tell myself as I work to straighten my spine.  I raise my posture with every step to the very back of the store, where all the picked over holiday gifts are piled into a heap.  I scan the mess of books and kids games and begin randomly grabbing items, shoveling them under my arms.
    There’s “ 7 Habits of Highly Effective People” for Dad, “ Remodeling for Your Home ” for Mom, and board games for my five nieces and nephews.  I sneak a peek at my very own gorgeous stocking stuffer at the counter and wonder what he's doing in this book store on Christmas Eve?  For Heaven’s sake, he looks more like the Governor than a cashier at a 900-square foot book store in Oyster Cove.
    Uh oh.  He spotted me staring...okay, drooling over him...and now he's walking over to me!  Shit!
    "Can I help you with something?"
    My arms ache with the weight of the growing gift collection sliding from my limbs.  And I sense a rush of heat between my legs that hasn't emerged since last month -- under the covers -- alone -- visions of a shirtless Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome aren't far from my sheets.  Whoaaa...
    Back to the issue at hand.  SPEAK!  Say something!
    "Yes, I'm actually trying to find some...ummm...last minute gifts."
    "I can see that.  Are you missing anyone?  Maybe I can help?"
    God, he smells as good as he looks.
    "Oh, thank you.  I'm fine.  I’m sure you are about to close, aren't you?  I will hurry up and get out of your way."
    "No.  You aren't someone who I want to push out my door," he said confidently, while glancing down at my left hand.
    OH.  MY.  GAWD!  Did HE just say that to ME?
    His eyes leave my barren ring finger, trail across my chest, and land squarely back on my baby blues.  I hold his glance for a long time, until he looks over my shoulder and reaches to straighten a few items behind my head.  I close my eyes as the smell of his skin becomes a gateway to my fantasy.  Mr. CEO clears the book shelves with the clean swoop of his arm and lays me down and we have hot, raw sex.
    Firmly I tell myself to get it together - and take a big breath.  Then, in one seamless, unplanned movement, my hand reaches out and grasps his bicep, which is even firmer than I imagined.
    I stare into his eyes for a few seconds, not quite able to believe what I've just done.  What did I do that for?
    Then, Mr. CEO’s eyes glance down at my arm that now springs back to my body like a rubber band.  AWKWARD.
    He seems unphased.  Everything about this man suggests power and importance, and yet there is something appealing about him too, something young and good.
    "Besides, I rarely get to visit my bookstores."
    I'm flushed...red...heart palpitating, as my body begins sizzling enough to melt all that snow outside.
    “You own Jake's Books?  I thought the other guy who is always at the counter owned this store?"
    “You know the one I've fantasized about for the past 6 months?” I thought.
    His lip curls with what I sense is a touch of humor and flirtation as I wait on his response.  His eyes demand that mine meet his...as he follows them up and down, while I try to escape his stare.
    "Close.  That's my little brother.  I'm Jake...Jake Sterns," he says with a commanding voice.
    There was a softness about him that confused me, a kindness; a sort of compassion that I've become convinced doesn't exist in men of power.
    "I decided it was more important that my employees and family spend time with their spouses and extended families.  I don't have anyone waiting under the mistletoe for me tonight, anyway.  At least, not yet..." his voice trails off.
    Suddenly, my anxiety becomes obvious as the mountain of gifts in my left arm starts to crumble.  One by one the books fall like an avalanche.  I feel woozy with shock and embarrassment.
    "I'm so, so, sorry..." I mutter as I try to catch the falling pieces.
    "Oh God!  I'm terribly