Page 44 of Puppy Christmas

“Show him around, let him smell everything and anything he wants, and make sure he feels comfortable,” Lila had said. “We’ll sit here in the gym until you’re finished.”

The braiding, strangely enough, had been her idea as a way to spend their time. He’d hardly been able to believe his luck. Having an attractive woman between his legs wasn’t the most appropriate way to spend a morning in an elementary school gym, but he’d never been one to pass up a gift handed to him on a soft, supple platter.

“I can’t figure out why this is so hard for me,” he said as he set to work once more. “French, I can do. Fishtail is no problem. I can even do that one where Emily has to tip her head upside down and I work from the bottom.”

“Emily told me that Ms. Maddie taught you how to braid,” Lila said.

He twisted and inhaled the scent of coconuts. “She did.”

“And Ms. Helen.”

He tucked and dreamed of a tropical paradise with her in it. “Her too.”

Lila paused. “I’ve been thinking about taking Helen up on that offer to attend her Christmas Eve party.”

His mild “Oh?” didn’t capture a fraction of the interest that spiked through him. As tantalizing as this conversation was starting to become, he was too busy trying to turn the last strand at the exact right angle. He’d master this blasted braid if it was the last thing he did.

“I know I shouldn’t, since it’s best to keep our social interactions to a minimum, but she’s been so nice to me. It seems rude to refuse.”

His murmur was even more noncommittal the second time around.

“And it might give me a chance to clear the air. Thanks to you, my conversation with her at the tea party was useless. Not only does she still think we’re a couple, but she also believes we’re hiding our relationship for the sake of professionalism.”

“There!” He snapped the rubber band into place and released his hold on Lila’s hair. The coil of princess braids was decidedly lopsided, and there was one strand on the side threatening to come loose to frame her face, but he didn’t care. He’d never seen such a masterpiece before—and he wasn’t just talking about his handiwork. How such a woman could contrive to look this good at eight o’clock in the morning, with crooked hair and sleepy eyes, he had no idea.

It probably had something to do with the slightly bewildered air about her, the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth in an unconscious gesture that betrayed her discomfort with the situation. Like the telltale blush and sensitive spot on the side of her neck, it was one of the few signs Lila ever gave that she was in anything but full control of herself.

It was a small leap from there to picturing all the other ways she might let herself go. That smile. That laugh. That phone-sex operator voice. All it took was a little imagination and a slow, careful lick of her lips to set his pulse thumping.

“I’ve done it,” he announced, since it seemed there should be some kind of ceremony to commemorate his success. Also, because it suddenly seemed very important to dosomethingwith his mouth. “I’m a braid master. A hair connoisseur. A magician of—”

“Oh, crap.” Lila shot to her feet, almost toppling him over in the process. “Quick. We have to hide.”

“We have to hide?” he echoed, but his blood was still too thick, moving sluggishly through his veins. It wasn’t until she yanked him by the hand and practically pulled him over the side of the bleachers that he realized what they were fleeing from.

Or, rather,who.

“Well, fiddle. They’re not here.” Helen’s voice echoed through the empty gym, followed not long thereafter by theclip-clopof her heavily booted feet. “Principal Brown was sure this was where I could find them.”

A pair of determined hands propelled him from the relative safety of the side of the bleachers to the woodwork maze underneath. “Ford, you have tomove. She’ll never believe me about our relationship if she catches us like this.”

He opened his mouth to point out that there was little chance of Helen believing her anyway, but he closed it almost as quickly again. Lila was right behind him, her body soft and warm where it pressed against his.

And urgent. There was no mistaking the urgency.

“I thought you said you were some kind of expert at this,” she muttered. Her lips were close to his ear, the whisper of her breath causing a shiver to work through him. “Or has it been so long you don’t remember how it’s done?”

In the rational part of his brain, an admittedly small portion that seemed to be growing smaller by the second, he knew what Lila meant. She was talking about his expertise in finding his way under the rafters to the most secluded spot in the center of the bleachers—to the place where they couldn’t be seen or heard by Helen. His less rational parts, however, could only focus on one throbbing syllable.

Sex.

It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed that particular activity, and he was sure there had been one or two improvements since he’d last partaken, but he remembered just fine. In fact, remembering was pretty muchallhe’d done.

Well, that and imagining. Picturing. Longing. Hefting his own—

“Oh, for the love of Pete, would you move already? What’s Helen going to think if she finds us under here?”

Thanks to all that picturing and longing and hefting, he had the answer ready. Several of them, actually.