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“Mr. Walsh. Are you him?” she breathes, her teeth chattering as she runs shaky fingers over her bare shoulders in an attempt to warm them up. I realize with a start that she isn’t wearing a coat. I step aside quickly and gesture her in.
“How do you know my name?” I ask, eyes narrowed on the beauty. Even with the smudged lipstick and shaking like a leaf in the tiny dress that has to be squeezing the life out of her with how tight it is—she’s still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
“I...” She stumbles, and I step forward, wrapping my arms around her waist to stop her from toppling to the ground.
“Fucking hell!” I curse out at how cold her body feels. I lift her into my arms, a warm sensation spreading through me when she lays her head on my chest without protest.
I have a lot of questions, but getting my angel warm as fast as possible is my first priority. I take the stairs two at a time, kicking every door I come across until I find a bedroom. I pull the blankets back and lay her down.
Her dress is so tight, she’s only able to take shallow breaths, and I mull over undressing her before finally giving in. My movements are quick and efficient, unwilling to cross a line, and once she’s stripped, I draw the covers over her body.
I sit down beside her, brushing her hair from her face and questioning how the hell someone like her—angelic and perfect—could cross paths with me.
This must be the woman Eric said the estate owner’s son would send. But why would she be dressed so provocatively and without so much as a coat? I pat my pockets for my cell, groaning deeply when I discover there is no cell service. I toss the phone on the bedside table and hastily retrieve my overnight back, hoping to find something warm for her to borrow. As I open my bag at the foot of the bed, I see the note written in Eric’s handwriting. I grab it, gritting my teeth as I read, and slowly, everything clicks into place.
I hope you like your Christmas present. I thought of getting you a feisty little thing to keep you on your toes, but then I saw her and knew she’d be perfect. I think you will appreciate the effort I put into selecting her for you. Even a grump like you wouldn’t dare discard such a precious gift. Hopefully, she’ll help you discover the Joy of the season.
-Eric
Goddammit!
My eyes cross to the angel sleeping deeply beneath the blankets, and I can’t help but be drawn to her beauty. The thought of my best friend paying for her services should disgust me and turn me off, but . . . I can’t look away.
I want her!
Chapter Three
Joy
I dream of him.
The suited man with jet black hair, short beard, and piercing blue eyes. Almost as cold as the chill spreading through my bones.
I dream of her too. Kim’s eyes are also blue, but hers are cutting as she forces me out of her car and into the freezing cold. She didn’t even give me an opportunity to grab my overnight bag or my coat before she drove away.
Unlike Kim, the suit’s eyes don’t scare me. His blues aren’t as angry, in fact, there are no discernable emotions in them, but I don’t mind as long as they keep watching me the way they do.
As long as he keeps touching me the way he is. As long as those strong arms hold me close to his chest as he carries me in from the cold.
“Are you awake?” a deep voice asks, breaking through my muddled brain. I try to push the fog away and open my eyes, but they’re too heavy. Sleep keeps dragging me back, but the need to see those eyes again has me fighting to open them. “Do you need any more blankets?”
There is shuffling before something heavy falls over my body. I moan as I try to open my eyes again, squinting against the bright light and trying to make sense of where I am. My eyes close on the massive man standing beside the bed in a two-piece suit that fits him like a glove. He doesn’t say a word as I run my eyes over his form-fitting pants and up to his broad shoulders, then to a face that editors would kill to feature on magazine covers. He has perfectly styled dark hair, not a strand out of place, and a chiseled jaw that could cut through glass covered in a short dark beard. But it’s those eyes . . . those cold, blank eyes that send my heart jackhammering in my chest.
Oh, he is no catfish, and I have no idea what to make of that.
Should I feign amnesia?
It’s tempting to pretend I don’t remember anything that’s happened or what I’m here for. I may have fainted because I’d been terrified and cold and wearing a dress that I couldn’t breathe in, but he doesn’t know that. For all he knows, it was the cold that did me in. Amnesia can happen when people are exposed to the cold for a long time, right? I read it on a post once. Maybe if . . .
Suddenly, I realize I can breathe easily. I move my hands under the blanket and touch my body, feeling bare skin. A gasp escapes as I realize that I’m naked beneath the covers. This stranger undressed me! Before I can utter a word of protest, he speaks, and his words distract me from my thoughts.
“Are you out of your mind?” the stranger growls at me, and for a second, I think he can read my mind, which would be mortifying considering the fact that I was checking him out only a few seconds ago.
“I–I’m sorry?”
“Are you so desperate for money that you would go out in the freezing cold without so much as a coat and risk your health?”
His rough voice sends a shiver down my spine, and his words . . . Well, they sting. I have no right to be hurt considering I did, in fact, risk my safety by coming up here, but it’s not like I had a choice. He, on the other hand, asked for me. What business does he have yelling at me?
