Bewitched by Christmas Page 3

  “I make all natural organic herbal teas, dried herbal scented bags, bath bombs, bath salts, and I crochet wool soap sox and kids’ beanies,” she smiled. “I enjoy it. I have an online shop and I also sell out of a local store.”

  She’s dangerous, Brock thought. She was the total opposite of what he normally went for and he liked her—a lot. He felt himself grinning at her like an idiot, but if he was honest with himself, he was very much enjoying her company. She was beautiful—seemingly inside and outside—and for him, that was hard to come by.

  “Hello, earth to Brock,” she said, bringing him out of his musing.

  “Sorry,” he responded. “So, where do you get the herbs and stuff to make your products?”

  “I have a huge greenhouse and a workshop built onto the back of the house,” she beamed. “I make everything I sell from things grown right here on my property.” Allie turned and pointed to a door off the kitchen with a smoky glass panel. White light twinkled behind the glass, giving the door a magical affect.

  “The greenhouse?” he asked.

  “Yep,” Allie beamed. “If you can’t find me in the main house, I’m usually out there tending to my plants and my products.”

  “I will remember that,” Brock smirked. “Then that is what I saw from the road?”

  “Yep,” she answered, not sure whether she should offer to show it to him or not. It was her personal space. She thought about what he’d said earlier—she was too trusting. Maybe now wasn’t a good time.

  Turning, her mouth already half open ready to speak, he stood beside her. When had he moved? He smelled good—too good—and her mouth watered. “I’m headed to bed,” Allie announced abruptly. “I guess we can figure out something in the morning about what to do with your car.”

  Brock turned to look down at her with the abrupt change in topic. Green was the only thing that entered his mind as their eyes met. She had the greenest damn eyes he’d ever seen on a woman. He could get lost in them. Brock took a deep breath and stepped back to put a little space between them. “Yeah, I need to rest, too.”

  What the hell was his problem?

  He stared after her as a soft meow caught his attention and he looked down to see a fat fluffy cat happily rubbing his leg, begging to be petted.

  “Hey there,” he said, bending down to oblige the happy cat, “and what is your name?” Brock felt for a collar amongst all the smoky colored fur, quickly realizing the dang thing wasn’t fat—just literally a fur ball.

  He found what he was looking for and gently pulled at a turquoise colored collar with a little silver tag engraved with, “Max.”

  “So, you’re a boy,” Brock said, picking up the happy feline. It purred loudly as he scratched its head. “What can you tell me about Allie?”

  The cat continued to purr, patty-caking at the air.

  Chapter 4

  Brock woke very early the next morning in an old wrought iron bed, covered by a cream and tan flowered comforter. He hadn’t paid much attention to the bedding and his surroundings last night as he’d crawled into the bed, his body and mind heavy with exhaustion from the day.

  He thought about everything that had happened yesterday: about getting lost, about his car, about Allie, and he let out a long, heavy breath.

  His shirt hung across the back of an antique chair in the corner—a little wrinkled, but clean. He pushed back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, getting his bearings, before reaching down toward the floor to retrieve his discarded pants and slipped them back on.

  After finding the bathroom down the hall, he showered and dressed back into his clothes from yesterday.

  He didn’t have a choice.

  He rolled up the sleeves, but didn’t bother buttoning all the buttons or tucking in his shirt.

  As he headed down the old staircase and rounded the corner, Brock could hear music coming from the kitchen and the smell of bacon hit his nose. He walked slowly, following the tunes and delicious scent.

  His belly grumbled, and Brock rubbed his stomach automatically with his hand.

  He walked to the kitchen and quietly leaned against the arched frame of the door and chuckled. There was something about her that drew him in…

  Allie danced around the kitchen in a white t-shirt and red leggings that sported little white snowflakes all over them while holding a large spatula in her hand.

  Her hair bounced as she sang along with Shania Twain.

  Brock realized he really liked how she looked in those cute little holiday-themed leggings. He wondered how many pairs she owned. So far, that was all he’d seen her in. Did this woman own regular jeans? A thought about wanting to find out crossed his mind. His eyes traveled to her bottom as she danced around the room, and he wondered what she wore underneath.

  His fingers itched to peel those leggings off and find out. If it was a thong, he was done for, and from what he’d seen so far of her Christmas obsession, the thing would probably be Christmas themed. He rubbed a hand over his face as he grew semi-hard.

  As Allie turned, she about jumped out of her skin to see him standing in the doorway. He watched her with a grin plastered on his face, looking sexy as hell in his half-buttoned shirt and bare feet. “Oh, shit!” she exclaimed as she dropped her spatula, her heart beating hard in her chest. His eyes were another story; they were intense as they focused on her. She saw something else. Was it desire? Or was she imagining it?

  “No, don’t stop,” he chuckled, “you’re actually a pretty good singer. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Brock reached for the spatula that had slid his way on the floor.

  “I like that song,” Allie answered, feeling her cheeks burning.

  “So, whose bed were his boots under?” he asked teasingly, smirking.

  “What?” Allie asked. She’d been staring at him, watching the muscle exposed by the half-unbuttoned shirt flex and move as he reached for the spatula on the floor. Her mouth felt dry and her fingers itched to feel him. Allie blushed deeper if that was possible.

  “The song,” Brock prompted.

  “Huh?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

  “The song you were singing to?” Brock grinned. He knew that look all too well and the thought of her checking him out made his blood warm all over again. Thank God, his dark dress pants hid his semi.

  Allie laughed at his attempt to make her feel less awkward. “She never says,” she smiled. “I like a little music in the morning while I’m making breakfast, and I like to cook.” Allie shrugged her shoulders.

  “I could smell the food,” he smiled, “and it smells great.”

  “Hope you’re hungry,” Allie retorted as she placed the last of the bacon from the pan onto a paper laden plate, already heaped with bacon. She led him into a little dining room with an old farm table. “I got kind of carried away with the pancakes and the bacon,” Allie said sheepishly as she set the plate down.

  “I’m starved,” he replied, taking a seat across from her. He loaded his plate with bacon and eggs and several large pancakes as she poured him a glass of orange juice. She suddenly jumped up and quickly ran to the kitchen, returning moments later with two mugs and a pot of hot coffee. Brock smiled.

  They ate in silence, stealing an occasional glance at each other.

  Allie mentally shook herself. It was like she’d never been in a man’s presence before. He made her feel all tingly inside. Allie sighed into her mouthful of bacon. He was a big man, she thought as she glanced again in his direction. She could see his strong forearms where he’d rolled up his sleeves. He had broad, muscular shoulders. She felt flushed again thinking about the muscle she’d seen flexing under his shirt.

  She watched as he ate mouthfuls of pancake covered in butter and syrup, putting a dent in the heaping plate between them. Oh, his mouth, Allie sudden thought. His goatee framed a full bottom lip and thinner top lip. She watched him wipe away a dab of butter and licked her lips in response.

  Sighing, Allie looked down at her empty
coffee cup and absentmindedly tapped the edge. Her cup again was full to the top with coffee, just the way she liked it. She stared at it a moment and then her eyes cut toward him and she inwardly moaned. Thank goodness he wasn’t looking in her direction. She picked up her mug and took a large gulp.

  “That was wonderful, Allie,” Brock said, breaking the silence as he poured a second cup of coffee for himself. “I need to make a few phone calls this morning.” He stood, holding the cup of coffee tightly in his big hand. “The office will wonder where I am.”

  “But it’s Saturday. A lot of places are closed,” Allie retorted, taking a sip of her own coffee. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “But I’m the head boss, and I’m always there, so my absence this morning is going to draw some attention,” he smiled. “Plus, I need to see if they can send out a tow truck to get my car.” Truthfully, he didn’t mind staying here. He liked it. He liked her. “And yes I feel fine, and I’m thankfully not as hurt as I could have been.”

  “Good.” She looked at him. “What company?”

  “Elite Ops,” he answered bluntly.

  “Oh, and what do you do?” Allie inquired.

  “We protect people.”

  Allie just looked at him and smiled. It was obvious she was not going to get a lot out of him about his company right now. He was tall, strong, and had a hard edge about him. Owning a business that offered people protection seemed to fit him.

  “What?” Brock asked curiously.

  “I can see that,” Allie smiled. “Maybe now is a good time for me to clean your injury and change the bandage.”

  Brock nodded, “But first, I’ll help you clean up the table and dishes.”

  “Thank you,” Allie answered.

  She smiled at his sweet offer and accepted his help. They made quick work of the table and dishes. Soon the table was clean and the dishes were back in the cabinet where they belonged. Allie inwardly laughed. A snap of her fingers and the dishes would have been finished in seconds, but she couldn’t do that in front of him.

  ~*~

  “Mr. Alexander, what are you trying to say?” asked the voice on the phone.

  “I hate that Mr. Alexander crap. I told you, call me Jess. I’m saying I need more time, Pratt. When we set our terms of agreement, killing him was not in the cards,” answered Jess. This dickhead was really beginning to piss him off. If he could reach him through the phone he’d probably strangle him. He took a deep breath.

  “Well, Jess, now we are getting into a kind of time crunch, aren’t we?” Pratt answered in a slithery tone.

  “He’s my nephew,” answered Jess.

  “Yes, and I thought he was the problem?” Pratt retorted in a condescending voice. “Didn’t you say you hated the little bastard? That the company should have been handed over to you? That you were treated like shit and you’d only been given power over the training facility? That he fucked up your plans?” Pratt chuckled, “Now is not the time to be wishy-washy, Jess. Kill him.”

  “I can take him out of the picture without killing him,” answered Jess.

  “No, you can’t,” Pratt spat into the phone. “If he’s alive, then you gain nothing and we cannot join our companies. We gain nothing. I gain nothing. I offered you quite a hefty sum under the table for this merger to go down, and I expect you to man up and complete your end of the deal and deliver.”

  Jess sighed and mentally counted to ten, attempting to calm down.

  “No second thoughts,” Pratt said harshly.

  “No,” answered Jess.

  “Good,” smiled Pratt into the phone. “Now, he didn’t come home last night as we’d planned. Have you found out where he is? If we can’t find him, you can’t kill him.”

  “I know where he is. Brock called and spoke with his assistant, Mason Weathers, at the office this morning. He asked for a tow to be sent out to some Podunk back farm road three hours from the city.” Jess paused. “Apparently he wrecked his new toy, but what he was doing way the hell out there, I don’t know.”

  “If you know where he is, then get your ass in gear and follow through with your side of the deal,” answered Pratt.

  “You are one pushy son of a bitch,” retorted Jess, “and it is really fucking annoying.”

  “Tsk-tsk, Mr. Alexander,” he warned in a dangerously low tone, “do not bite the hand that feeds.”

  ~*~

  Hours went by until finally Brock got a call back from his assistant that the tow truck had a damn flat tire and would not be making it to get his car today. Brock sighed. How could the tow truck get a flat? What was with his luck?

  Brock looked around him.

  He thought about breakfast. How normal it felt to just sit and enjoy a meal with a woman he enjoyed being around.

  Maybe this was to his benefit.

  Brock wanted to get to know Allie better.

  Even though she was a stranger, his being here did not feel odd, but right.

  He couldn’t explain how much he was drawn to her, and he liked her more and more with every minute he was in her company. It scared him a little, to be honest. He’d never felt like this toward a woman, and he’d not planned to for a long while.

  This morning she’d looked so cute singing and dancing around the kitchen as she cooked breakfast.

  She was good.

  She was real.

  She had some inner energy that seemed to draw him in.

  He needed some good in his life. He was fed up with girls only after his money and a night in his bed. He was fed up with one-night stands. He was past that crap. It had turned into just an act with no emotion, no real satisfaction besides the physical.

  Brock ran his fingers through his hair. He’d just met her and already he was growing feelings for her. What was his problem?

  Obviously, it would be a couple of days before his car would be picked up. He felt compelled to get to know her.

  He would make a quick phone call to his assistant Mason with instructions to take care of a few things and cancel a few appointments, freeing up a few days.

  Chapter 5

  He spent the day helping Allie with chores around the house. He chopped wood for the fireplace so she didn’t to and fixed her faulty light switch in the hallway.

  He’d laughed when she’d appeared in yet another pair of Christmas leggings. This time they were gray with little ornaments all over them. Those leggings hugged her like a glove in all the right places, making her hourglass figure more evident.

  Brock enjoyed not having to constantly act the part of hard-ass around her. He could relax and let his guard down a little.

  He watched through the window as the snowfall picked up, and he couldn’t see much farther than her lit up tree in the front by the driveway. His eyes traveled the length of the lights up the tall tree and he wondered how she’d managed to get them strung up the tree as high as they were.

  At this rate, Brock wouldn’t need a tow truck to get his car out of the damn ditch and to a repair shop; he would have to dig and find it in the snow first.

  He looked toward the window and watched as the snow continued to fall heavy on the ground. “I hate to say it, but I think our weather has made a turn for the worst. It looks like we have a blizzard happening out there.”

  Allie looked toward the window and nodded her head in agreement. “You may be stuck here for a few more days. I have plenty of food. I always make sure to stock up during winter just in case, and thanks to you, we have plenty of firewood.”

  “It’s okay if I stay here for a few more days. You’re very good company,” Brock smiled, watching her reach for a heavy log. He started to get up, “Hey, let me get that.”

  “I’m fine,” she said and continued over to the fireplace with Max purring at her side. “I’m used to it. Are you a good wrapper?” Allie asked Brock as she placed the log in the fireplace. Content with the job, she happily watched it crackle in the orange flames. She shooed Max away, and he settled himself under the Christmas tre
e in the soft tree skirt totally unperturbed.

  “Damn, you’re beautiful,” Brock uttered before his brain could stop him. The wash of color from the fireplace had an amazing affect as it bathed her in a soft orange glow.

  “Thank you,” Allie smiled, “not bad yourself. But I asked if you were a decent present wrapper.”

  “Well, if you mean like Lil’ Wayne, no,” he laughed, “but if you mean boxes and stuff, I think so,” he answered. “I can hold my own.”

  “Good. I have a huge box in the hall closet full of presents for Betty’s grandchildren and some small children’s items to bring to the church for the Angel Tree. I’d love your help!” Allie stood and took off to retrieve the box and wrapping supplies from the hall closet.

  Brock got up and followed behind her. He felt another smile break across his face of its own accord. He had a feeling he was going to be smiling like a freaking idiot a lot around her. He watched her body move and those damn leggings left nothing to the imagination. They should be outlawed.

  Allie didn’t realize he was behind her when she turned with the box and rammed into him, dropping it, and almost falling over it in the process.

  Brock quickly grabbed Allie with his arm and pulled her to him before she could fall. Hell, she smelled so good—like warm cinnamon and sugar. He leaned closer to get a better whiff of her delicious scent without really thinking about what he was doing. She reminded him of something sweet he wanted to eat up slowly…savoring her taste.

  Brock pulled her closer and watched as her eyes widened and moved gradually to his mouth. It was an invitation and he gladly accepted it. He lowered his mouth to hers, tasting her lips. He heard her little moan of satisfaction and it drove him crazy, egging him on. He was right, she tasted fucking amazing.

  It all happened so quickly, Allie had no time to think as her body pressed tightly to his. She sighed at the feel of his lips on her and her head spun as he deepened the kiss, pulling her tighter yet against his hard body.