A Little Christmas Jingle by Michele Dunaway Read Free Book Online

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    â€œAlong with the rescue groups, I was out in that snow and those temps. I didn’t go home for over forty-eight hours, maybe closer to seventy-two. I only slept an hour or two here or there. I would not make a good pet parent. I can’t commit to providing attention. Work comes first.”
    She ripped open her package of thinly sliced cheddar and sour-cream flavored potato chips. “Still, I have cats and my neighbor—”
    He reached for his water. “I can’t ask a neighbor to care for them. That’s not fair to anyone.” She watched as those beautiful lips took a long draught, his throat constricting as he swallowed. He set the bottle down and wiped his mouth, getting the drop that had caught the edge of his lip.
    â€œWhat?” he asked.
    â€œNothing.” She fibbed, hating that she’d been caught staring. Worse, like when someone yawned and someone repeated, she’d also swallowed. Hard. She grabbed her water and took a sip that failed to quench the heat she was feeling. Chemistry. Human magnetism. That’s all this was. Nothing she couldn’t squelch.
    â€œYou’re really into Christmas, aren’t you?”
    His question caught her off guard, but it was a safe topic. “Love it. Can you tell?” Like the waiting room, she’d decorated here as well: a tiny Christmas tree on a table, some garland around the doorframe, and a porcelain Santa Claus collection on her desk. Fake poinsettias lined one wall. “Wouldn’t you agree? Isn’t it the best time of the year?”
    Despite how cheery she’d made her office, he answered, “Debatable.”
    That wrinkle pinched the skin above her nose again, and she rubbed it with a finger. “Then how come you’re Mr. December?”
    He sighed. In a year, she’d be staring at him half naked for thirty-one days. Strange that thought didn’t bother him as much as it should have. Maybe it was because he’d like to see her naked, her brown hair framed out on his white pillowcase. He’d never considered white lab coats sexy, but on Kat … he wondered what was underneath. He jolted to the present, focused on her question.
    â€œThey didn’t ask us our favorite month. We just arrived and did what they told us to do.”
    â€œOh.” She seemed a little disappointed.
    â€œEach of us got to pick where our portion of the proceeds went. As the task force is new and can use any publicity, and my lieutenant told me it would be good PR to do the calendar. I never considered all the consequences.”
    â€œLike?”
    â€œWell, I’m the only cop permanently assigned to the task force, which means I’m the media darling. It’s made me a bit of a target, and now that that calendar is out …”
    Brown eyes reflected mischievousness tempered with a side of doubt. “Oh, please. You mean to tell me you weren’t flattered by all those women vying for your attention at the ball?”
    â€œYou mean my stalkers?”
    â€œFan club?”
    â€œStalkers. Or overzealous attention seekers? Calendar groupies? Those better terms?”
    She had cheddar crumbs on her lips. He gestured, and she wiped with her forefinger. He clenched his hands, putting them safely in his lap before he did something stupid, like clean her lips with his tongue. “Surely the calendar fallout can’t be that bad.”
    â€œEasy for you to say. I’m a blue-collar guy, and that shot turned me into a calendar stud. My work e-mail is public, and since the calendar debuted, the majority of my inbox is women asking me on dates. I had one or two file abuse claims, but those ended up being excuses to get me to stop by their residence—where at least two opened the door wearing nothing but smiles. It’s hard to talk when looking at someone’s feet.”
    â€œSorry,” Kat said, trying to contain her laughter.
    â€œIt’s not