Page 8 of Twelve Dates of Christmas

“I’m fluent in Spanish, and I travel outside the country for my job every few months. Spanish is more of a universal language than you’d think. We could practice it together.”

“Oh…okay…” That sounded as if he wanted to see me more than today. I couldn’t say I was opposed to that, even if it seemed a little weird. “So I guess the next is four…wait a minute. It’s four calling birds and two turtledoves.”

“Caught.” He shrugged, looking unrepentant. “I’ll admit, I just wanted your number. But the turtledove question… What do you think of world peace?”

“It’s a nice theory as a goal but until people start having empathy for one another, it’s not going to happen.” That was deeper than I’d ever expected to go today.

He nodded, seeming to absorb that and perhaps even agree.

“And five gold rings…” Rylan continued “No ring on your finger. Good. Ever been married? I haven’t.”

“I haven’t even been on a date,” I blurted then immediately wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. Why the hell had I told him that?

“Oh, well that’s not true. This is our second date, and we’re just about to move to our third.”

“Just so you know…I don’t have a three date rule.”

His eyes widened, and that Cheshire cat smile returned. “Good.”

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed when I realized how he’d taken it. “I meant that I don’t…” My voice lowered, and I leaned closer. “I don’t have sex just because of how many times I’ve been out with a guy.”

He leaned in. “How do you know?” he whispered. “You just said you haven’t dated.”

Fair point. “I just…do.”

“Okay, neither of us have married. Yet,” he said, going back to the paper. The bells went off, but Rylan didn’t move to get up. It was almost as if he dared anyone to wrest him from this spot. But I’d bet he’d be up in a flash if I stood.

I didn’t. This was turning out to be a far better speed date than I would have guessed.

“Six geese a laying. Something…something about baked goods. I’m just going to say yes. I like them—I have a little bit of a sweet tooth. But no, I don’t bake.”

I eyed him. I really couldn’t help it. What girl wouldn’t? “You don’t look like you have a sweet tooth.”

“Ten miles in the morning and weight training a couple nights a week. Do you bake? Tell me no, because I might not be able to handle it if you were any more perfect.”

“Me? Perfect?” I couldn’t help giggling. “You can’t decide I’m perfect after what? Ten or eleven minutes?”

“I decided you’re perfect before I ever walked into this building. Let me guess. You bake…cookies?”

“Sometimes, but cupcakes are really more my thing. Cupcakes and muffins. Though I do like cupcakes better. I’m addicted to frosting.”

“Seems I’m not the only one with a sweet tooth.”

“No. But mine shows.” I hadn’t meant to draw his attention to my figure, but his gaze roamed over me anyway. His tongue licked over his bottom lip. I couldn’t deny the hunger in his eyes.

“If it shows it’s just more lush perfection. My God, Holly… You could kill a guy with those curves. What kind of assholes have you been around all your life that one of them hasn’t nailed you down? Idiots. Certifiable.”

My body warmed at his effusive praise. I’d never wanted to come here, and now, my pulse was racing off the charts like something monumental was about to happen. Was he genuine? Could I believe this or was he pouring it on thick…thick with lies?

“Seven swans swimming,” he said, cutting away and seeming to breathe a little unevenly. The knuckles gripping the card appeared white. “Do you swim or do any sports?”

“No. What’s that old joke? If you see me running, you’d better run, too.”

He chuckled. “I already told you mine. I played football in high school, as well. It was nothing to write home about, though. Okay… Eight maids a milking. Do you have allergies? I guess that’s referring to lactose intolerance or something.”

“No allergies,” I reported.

“Me either. Nine ladies dancing… Do you like to dance?”

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