Page 31 of Puppy Christmas

He ignored the remark, which was offered with a growing note of skepticism. “No one to kiss. No one to cuddle.” He caught Lila’s eye. “No one tof-u-c-k.”

“Ford!” Lila reared up to her full height, but not wholly with indignation. There was laughter in that gaze; he was sure of it.

“What?” he asked with bland innocence. “You started spelling things out first.”

“Yes, but only because I thought you were mourning the loss of your wife.”

“Oh, I make it a point never to mourn Janine,” he said. “She ran off to the North Pole to escape me. I know when to take a hint.”

“The North Pole?” Lila echoed blankly. “You mean—”

“That I’m not pining for the lost love of my life?” He gave in to the urge to grin this time, but only because Lila was developing another one of those deep blushes. “No, I’m not. Or, rather, I wasn’t until a few days ago. Now it’s nothing but gnashing teeth and painful longing everywhere I turn.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Are you, Lila?” He drew closer, unable to keep his distance any longer.Shemight be able to pretend to ignore the pull of attraction between them, but he didn’t have a fraction of her strength. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“You’re being highlyi-n-a-p-p-r-o-p-r-i-a-t-eright now,” she said. Her whole body was stiff, but she didn’t back away. If anything, she leaned closer, drawn inexorably toward him, too.

“That one’s probably safe enough to say out loud. What would really be inappropriate, however, is if I were to tell you just how much I’d like to kiss you. Or cuddle you. Or, if you’re up for it, tof-u—”

She leaped forward with a suddenness that made him hope, for a fraction of a second, that she was going to stop his words with a kiss. She didn’t, opting instead to press her palm over his mouth. As this required her to stand so close that her breasts jutted against his chest, her face mere inches from his, it seemed like the next best thing.

“Your daughter is right down the hall,” she hissed.

Yes, and most likely pulling every dress she owned out of the closet to weigh the pros and cons of each one. Until one of them went in there and demanded that she make a decision or risk missing out on the tea party altogether, there would be no parting her from the exigencies of her wardrobe. Lila’s hand was still over his mouth, however, so he couldn’t offer her any of these assurances.

“You’re incorrigible. Honestly, if you can’t learn to control yourself, I’m going to have to…” Lila’s voice trailed off, her brow furrowed as she sought an ideal torture. Since there was little she could to do hurt him, short of handing the training over to one of her sisters and escaping from his life forever, he wasn’t too alarmed.

He was, however, highly intrigued when a look of cunning took over. It was evident in the slight narrowing of her eyes, the irrepressible dimple forming at the corner of her mouth.

“You know what?” she said as she dropped her hand from his mouth. “I think you might be on to something.”

“I am?” he asked before correcting himself with a cough. “I mean, I am. Of course. Always on top of things, that’s the Ford Ford way. And by on top, I mean—”

“I know what you mean. I’m not an idiot. You mean your body moving over mine. You mean the two of us entangled in your sheets.” Her laughter this time was gentle but somehow all the more powerful because of it. No low-throated laugh, this. It was an intimate sound, a private one. One he could feel rumbling through his entire body. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Do…what?”

“It,” she said. “The horizontal mambo. The slap and tickle. The rusty moose.”

He was fully on board with her suggestions until she reached the last one. Subduing a sudden choke of laughter, he asked, “The rusty moose? That’s not a real thing.”

“Sure it is.” She blinked up at him. Although he suspected she was only toying with him, calling his bluff in hopes of scaring him away, she said this part with perfect solemnity. “Anything can be a euphemism fors-e-xif you say it right.”

“Um, I don’t think so. There are some pretty freaky words out there.”

She trailed her fingers up the line of his bare arm. Even though he knew she didn’t mean it, he couldn’t help but respond. God, it felt good to do this again—to flirt in earnest, to banter with a woman in hopes that it would lead to something more, instead of just using it as a shield.

“Come on, Ford,” she murmured softly. “Wouldn’t you like to give me a taste of the ol’ rusty moose?”

Yes.She was obviously onto something here. He’d give her a rusty anything if she kept looking at him like that.

“Or maybe we could slip outside for some pickle juice,” she cooed.

Absolutely.Pickle juice. Pickle juice sounded amazing.

Those trailing fingers moved to his chest, where her palm lay flat against the rapidly increasingthump-thumpof his chest. “Oh, Ford, I love it when you climb the broken ladder.”