Page 24 of Cooped Up for Christmas

“That’s not your boyfriend. No. That is not your boyfriend.”

I had no idea why he scoffed. I looked back at the photo. Hot guy. Surfboard. Long, sandy hair. Cocky grin. Nothing funny at all.

“You got that picture of the internet, right?”

“What?” I gaped at him in shock. How dare he suggest a thing? So I flipped to a picture of the two of us. It happened to be one from a fancy party, and Dirk was resplendent in a white suit and black bowtie. “Hah!” I said as I showed him this photo. So there.

He sobered and took the phone from me and stared at it. “Damn, Vic,” he said. “You look hot.”

I grabbed the phone back. Yeah. I’d looked pretty snazzy that night, but that was hardly the point. “This is Dirk,” I said pointing to his photo-face.

“Dirk?” snicker.

“He is my boyfriend. He loooves me.”

“Oh yeah?” Coop leaned against the pillar. “Then why isn’t he here?”

“It’s not his job—”

“If I loved someone, no way would I let her go off for Christmas without me. Even if I had to miss the family potluck.”

“Oh… you!” He was so frustrating sometimes. “There was no potluck. There was a suite in the Swiss Alps, with five star service and fancy parties and…relaxation.”

His smile was sly. “And Dirk, of course,” he said softly.

“Of course.”

“Interesting that you didn’t mention him. You know. Just sayin’.”

“I mentioned him.”

“I believe I mentioned him, but why belabor the point?”

“Oh. Was there a point?” Honestly. He was so exasperating.

“I think the main point is that you and I are here, together, on Christmas. And Dirk is not.” At which point, he stalked toward me and took me in his arms and kissed me.

God, it was sexy. His mouth was soft and warm and plaintive as he teased me into a response. It didn’t take long for flames to lick through me with him so close, the two of us breathing the same sweet air. The kiss deepened; he ate at my mouth and caressed my scalp and walked me back until the door slammed against my back.

I was transported. We both were.

Until a spoon tapped on the window.

And not the nice way a spoon might tap on a window. This was a very angry spoon.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

Coop lifted his head, peered inside, and laughed. “I think we’re disturbing the chef,” he said releasing me.

I meticulously brushed myself down, patted my hair back in place, and cleared my throat before I went inside. “Good morning, Noel.”

He said some things in French that apparently needed to be pronounced through one nostril in order to be said correctly. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t cordial.

I surveyed the six or seven dishes he had cooking. “How’s breakfast coming?” It was supposed to be a quick buffet before the guests took off with Cooper and his team. Ah. The thought of all that quiet was delightful. “Let me know when you want to start set up.” I didn’t wait for a response. I headed straight into the great room to pull out the breakfast dishes.

Coop followed. Apparently. I nearly walked right into him when I turned around too quickly with arms full of china. “Oh, sheesh.” I frowned at him. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Let me take those.”