The door clicked shut behind him and Netta closed her eyes for a moment, screwing her face up to absorb the desire Mo’s almost-touch had released. She stepped out of the gown and laid it carefully on the bed, took off her pinching strapless bra and slipped the skirt and Blondie T-shirt on. The cardigan was luxuriously warm as she slid her arms into the sleeves. She was much comfier, but also fairly confident she looked like a lunatic.
She found a hanger in the wardrobe and hung the dress, then checked her appearance in the gilded mirror leaning against the wall. Her hair still looked great and her make-up was miraculously still in place thanks to the industrial strength products. But the outfit was … well, it was something that only Rhona could pull off. She wrapped the cardigan tightly across her front to conceal her bralessness. She would have to do.
From the top of the stairs, she could see Mo sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand. A second glass was waiting on the table alongside a packet of chips and a block of chocolate. Outfit aside, if there was such a thing as perfection, she was about to walk right into it.
‘Hey.’ He smiled as she took a spot on the couch next to him. ‘I took the liberty,’ he said, passing her the wine.
‘Thank you. This is basically medicinal at this point,’ she said, taking a sip. ‘I could die that you had to get me out of the dress.’
‘It was nothing,’ he said quickly. ‘Hey, this’ll make you feel better.’ He stood and reached inside the neckline of Don’s Christmas jumper, his fingers searching for something behind his neck. ‘Ready?’
Netta nodded and then lights flashed all over the knitted Christmas tree. She burst into laughter. ‘Oh my God!’
‘That’s not all.’ He reached behind his head again and the jumper launched into a tinny rendition of ‘O Christmas Tree’.
‘What the hell?’ Netta was doubled over laughing. ‘Where do you evenbuysomething like that?’
Mo shrugged and grinned as he sat back down. ‘Rhona and Christmas are pretty tight. She does it bigger and better every year.’
‘Were you and Mav supposed to be there tomorrow?’
‘Yeah, but it’s okay,’ he said. ‘This will be nice too.’ He held her gaze for a second and then looked away, clearing his throat. ‘Chips or chocolate?’
‘Red wine needs chocolate,’ said Netta.
‘Indeed it does.’
Mo grabbed the block from the table, tore the wrapper open and held it out to her. Netta snapped a row off and gave it to Mo, and then took another row for herself.
‘It doesn’t get much better than hazelnut chocolate and red wine.’ She settled back into the couch and admired the fire. ‘You did a good job there.’
A comfortable silence descended as they unwound, finally still after the whirlwind. Netta began to relax, allowing herself to sink further into the couch, tucking her feet beneath her as the fire splashed light across the dim room and the comforting smell of smoke mingled with the aroma of the shiraz.
‘Quite a night, hey?’ she said.
Mo nodded silently and took a sip of wine.
‘I’m sorry it ended up like this,’ she said. ‘I really do feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t gone with you, you’d probably be at some fancy after-party right now with—’
‘I’m not.’ His voice was low.
‘You’re not what?’
‘Sorry that it ended up like this.’ He lifted his gaze from the fire to meet hers.
‘But what about …’ Netta hesitated.
‘This is perfect. Apart from this, obviously.’ He gestured at his outfit. ‘I could live without this part of it.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Netta. ‘You actually pull that jumper off pretty well.’
‘The purple’s quite good on you, too. You look like Grimace’s beautiful sister.’ He touched the soft sleeve of the cardigan, his fingertips kissing the back of her hand as he pulled away.
Netta’s skin exploded with want at his touch, her heart racing so fast she was certain he’d be able to see it through her clothes. Their eyes met and the growing black pools in Mo’s blue eyes made her wonder if, maybe, he’d felt the same thing.
He took a deep breath and set his wine glass on the table. ‘Netta, I …’ He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, his gaze fixed on the floor between his feet. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay.’ But Netta was not okay. Her insides were a tornado and her skin was on fire. She’d never wanted to kiss anyone so much in her life. ‘Lorena’s probably sticking pins into a voodoo doll of me right now.’
