“It’s just the reflection of all these red leaves and decorations and lights,” she said, waving her hand to encompass the store.
His gaze followed her hand, pausing on the Christmas tree set in the window. “Pretty tree,” he said. “Is that a new addition?”
“It’s been there for the past two weeks.”
He returned his attention to her and smiled. Whoa. The grin was pretty damn great, but the full smile was potent with a capital P. Warm, flirty and intimate all at the same time. Another few layers of strength fled her knees without a backward glance. She stabbed in another piece of pine and pretended she didn’t feel it.
“Guess I was too busy looking at you to notice,” he said. “What are all those little red envelopes hanging on it?”
For an answer she handed him a flyer from the pile on the end of the counter. “The Twelve Steamy Nights of Christmas,” he read. His gaze flicked back up to hers. “Sounds promising.”
“It’s for charity,” she said quickly, groaning inwardly as the words poured from her like a flood-a curse that occurred whenever she was nervous. And dammit, he made her nervous. “Each envelope contains a gift for a…sensual night out.” Crap. Her tongue had tripped on the word sensual. “Local restaurants have donated meal cards, shops in the area gave gift cards, that sort of thing. For a twenty-five-dollar donation, you can pick any envelope you want. All the proceeds go to local charities.”
He nodded. “Very nice. Your idea?”
“Yes. It seemed a good way to introduce myself and Blooming Pails to the community and do some good at the same time.” Which was absolutely true-although the full truth was that after six months with zero sex, the idea was also inspired by her own deep desire for a steamy, sensual Christmas gift. But since nothing remotely resembling sexy, steamy, sensual-all those lovely S words-hovered in her immediate future, she’d just live vicariously through her customers.
“Great idea. Lots of folks need help, especially this time of year. A fire last night in Ocean Harbor Beach left a family homeless.”
Toni’s stomach clenched. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anyone hurt?”
“No, but they lost everything.”
“If they’re still alive, they didn’t lose anything that really matters.”
“True,” he agreed. “But it’s still a tough situation. The guys at all the stations in the county participate in a toy drive every Christmas. It’s really hard to think of kids not having a present from Santa to open.”
Toni nodded. She recalled the faces of such children, such families, who’d lost everything. Even now, three years later, with that life behind her, the images still haunted her. To this day she still jumped at the sound of a fire alarm, and adrenaline pumped at the sight of a fire truck. She blinked away the heart-wrenching memories and said, “The toy drive’s a great idea. Even as we speak, my assistant is dropping off our donation at the Santa Rey station.” An errand Toni had thought she was so smart sending Jayne off on so she wouldn’t have to visit the firehouse. Little had she known Brad would show up here while Jayne was gone.
“On behalf of all of us, I thank you.” He glanced back down at the flyer. “It says if you bring your little red envelope here the day you’re using the contents, Blooming Pails will provide a free rose for the date.” He looked at her and zoom went her pulse. “Pretty romantic.”
Was he laughing at her? It was impossible to tell, just something else annoying about him. She could usually read people very well, but Bradley Griffin and his unwanted sex appeal kept clogging up her receptors. “You have something against romance? Or roses?”
“Heck no. And to prove it, I’ll buy one of the red envelopes.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and she absolutely didn’t notice the fascinating play of muscles beneath his snug black T-shirt. Or the way his jeans clung to his lean hips and long muscular legs. Nope. Didn’t notice a thing. Besides, what was the big deal? She knew damn well what great shape firefighters had to be in. Just because his shape looked better than most didn’t mean she had to stare.
He pulled out his wallet and handed her twenty-five dollars. Their fingers brushed as the money exchanged hands, shooting a tingle straight up her arm. “Which envelope should I pick?”
Any one. Then take your tempting, sexy self out of here and don’t come back. She shrugged. “Your choice.”
He leaned a bit closer and she pulled in a quick breath, one that filled her head with his scent. God, he smelled good. Clean. Like sunshine and freshly showered man. She had to lock her knees and grip the edge of the counter to keep from giving in to the temptation to bury her nose against his neck and simply breathe him in.
“What if I said you were my choice?” he asked softly.
She forced her gaze to remain steady on his-his gaze that was filled with unmistakable interest. And heat. Enough heat to make her feel as if someone had just set a match to her skin. “I’d say you were trying to pick something off the wrong tree.”
For an answer he just smiled-which was bad enough on her already weakened knees, but then he winked.
Oh, God. Why did he have to wink? A man that good-looking shouldn’t be allowed to wink. Especially at her-a woman who harbored a freakish weakness for winking. And what this man could do with one wink…good lord, she needed to ring up his purchase and send him on his way.
She turned and headed toward the cash register. From the corner of her eye, she watched him peruse the tree, as if choosing a card was a monumental decision. Finally, he plucked one from an upper branch then walked toward her waggling the envelope between his long, strong fingers. “Wanna see what I got?”
God, do I ever. I wanna see everything you’ve got. She firmly told her inner voice to shut the hell up then picked up several roses and resumed her work. “If you want to show me.”
The heat that flared in his eyes stilled her hands. And damn near stopped her heart. Okay, wrong thing to say. Why, oh, why didn’t life have a rewind button? Or a judge to rule on such things. Your honor, I’d like my last statement stricken from the record.
“Oh, I definitely want to show you.”
Her mouth went dry. It simply wasn’t right how this man turned her on just standing there. Why couldn’t he be an accountant? Anything but a firefighter? She briefly wondered if Nana Rose had put some sort of Sicilian curse on her love life.
With his gaze on hers, he opened the credit-card-sized envelope and slipped out its contents. Then he looked down. And smiled. Then looked up at her. With a heated expression that threatened to melt the soles of her sneakers.
“This must be my lucky day,” he murmured. He pulled out his wallet and handed her another twenty-five bucks. “I’ll take another.”
Before she could recover from her surprise, he headed back toward the tree. Her gaze zeroed in on his ass. And what a fine ass it was. The man definitely had a great walkaway. When he crouched down to mull over the envelopes near the bottom of the tree, her head tilted to admire the view, while in her mind’s eye his jeans-along with the rest of his clothes-miraculously disappeared. When he returned a moment later holding another envelope, she realized she was still standing precisely where he’d left her, holding the twenty-five bucks, her head still tilted to one side, and the fantasy-induced image of his bare backside fried into her brain.
“Wanna see what I’ve got now?”
I just saw it. And it was fiiiine. She blinked away the image of a naked Brad and shrugged. “You can show me what’s in the envelope-since I have a feeling you will no matter what I say.”