Page 17 of Unwrapping His Naughty Secret

“God, no.” He reaches out and curls his hand around my elbow. Unwelcome heat slams into me, and matching sparks light up his gaze. His fingers press into my flesh, caressingthe inside of my upper arm for a second before Hannah returns, waving a bottle of Amaretto, and he drops his hand. “I don’t want you to go anywhere,” he says under his breath. “Please stay. I… I want you to stay. I need to explain why I?—”

“How much, Care Bear?” Hannah pulls me away from her dad before he can finish.

“Just a splash.” I swallow hard. “I don’t really drink much.”

She laughs.

I don’t laugh.

And from his careful, watching perch just down the counter, Hunter doesn’t laugh, either.

Chapter 8

Hunter

Hannah doesn’t leaveCara’s side again. They pour their hot chocolate into mugs, and then we rejoin Wyatt’s family in the living room.

It turns out that Cara’s career focus is environmental science, and Heath co-owns a construction company that specializes in passive solar design, so it doesn’t take long before they’re deep in discussion.

Which leaves me to sip my drink and watch her be beautiful and smart and fascinating.

She’s wearing a silky black top with little slitted cap sleeves that curve over her shouldersand leave the rest of her soft arms bare. If I stare hard enough, I think I can see the imprint of my fingers where I grabbed her and begged her not to leave.

“Dinner won’t be much longer,” I say abruptly, interrupting everyone’s conversation.

I’m unsettled. I’m restless.

I need to drag Cara off to my den so we can talk, but I can’t. Not without raising Hannah’s suspicions, and once I do that, she’ll be like a dog with a bone—and once she finds out I kissed her classmate, I’ll never hear the end of it.

And I don’t know how Cara will be treated, either.

That has to be my top priority: making sure she is our guest of honor tonight. Nothing else.

“What are we having for dinner?” Cara asks.

“Italian,” I say. “Lasagna, specifically. But I have lots of other options if you don’t like?—”

“Lasagna is great,” she saysquickly.

“He’s being modest,” Wyatt says. My brother never misses an opportunity to be anyone’s hype guy. “He’ll have so much food the table will groan. Did you make those yummy little roaches this year?”

Even if the hype involves unnecessary insect mentions. “Goat-cheese stuffed dates wrapped in prosciutto,” I translate for Cara, heat racing up the back of my neck at her wide-eyed confusion.

“They look like bugs,” Hannah offers, trying to help.

Cara’s expression turns to outright distress.

Fuck. Me.

“There’s also prosciutto-wrapped melon, and some tomato and mozzarella appetizers, too,” I say desperately. “I’m going to work on those.”

While I’m putting out the appetizer trays, and trying to make the dates look less bug-like, Hannah comes in and refills her hot chocolate mug.

I don’t bother pointing out that she’s probably ruining her appetite for dinner.

The sooner dinner is over, the better. Then the Christmas movie watching can begin and I can disassociate until midnight.

Maybe we’ll make it through this night without my filthy fantasies about her lab partner being revealed.

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