Page 31 of Holiday Power Play

"It can't be that hard." I eye the boxes he's already moved, then back to him. "Aren't you cold?"

He looks down at his abs—glistening like he just got done working out—then looks back at me.

"Does my half-naked body offend you, little grinch?"

"No," I scoff.

"Because apparently, my shirtless self doth offend the female species."

"It's very… shiny," I observe.

A small grin pulls at the corner of his lips and his dimple pulses. "Shiny?"

I toss my hand in his direction. "Mick will be here any minute. He'll wonder what the heck we've been doing all this time if he doesn't see decorations."

I pull down another box and open it—just books.

"Oh, right, and we wouldn't want him to think we were doing anything freaky."

I give him a look. "I don't think anyone would accuse you of being a freak," I say.

"How would you know, Lana? How would you know I'm not a closet freak?"

"Are you?" I ask him.

He seems to like that I'm digging because his eyes light up.

"Wouldn't you like to know, little grinch?"

"I wouldn't, actually."

"When was the last time you had sex?" he asks nonchalantly. I drop the book in my hand, and it falls back into the box.

"Excuse me? That's none of your business."

He lowers down another box from the shelves and pushes it toward me.

"So you can ask me if I'm a freak, but I'm not allowed to ask you when's the last time you got freaky?" He grunts as he shoves the box closer to me.

I sigh. "You first."

He straightens and places his hands on his hips. The pants he's wearing sit low enough on them to give me a good view of the 'v' shape of his muscles. It takes everything in me to pull my eyes away.

"I guess it's been… over a year? Maybe more." He goes back to moving boxes.

I cough on nothing. "Over a year?!"

He looks at me and shrugs.

"That can't be right," I say, pulling the box he brought to open closer to me—this one contains extra bedding.

"Why? Because it would go against everything you believe about me being a slutty hockey player?"

My eyes lock with his. "Maybe."

"I told you I'm not who you think I am. Your turn," he says.

I get flashes of that last night with my ex-fiance. I wouldn't have suspected a thing. I would've married him. And I would've been an idiot.

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