Page 5 of Warming Up Coco (Santa Daddy)

“Do we need to get to wherever we are going by a certain time?” I asked.

I was still in the dark about where the hell that was what the hell he needed to do. He’d been tight-lipped about it, changing the subject any time I brought it up.

“No, we have time.” Another first.

The man was like a machine when it came to work. He didn’t stop. His schedule was always booked solid. The man never rested, and I knew this because I was always by his side. One meeting after another, never taking a moment between projects.

He even worked weekends. Which in turn made me work weekends.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” I answered.

We’d been on the road for an hour, and after the flight we’d had, the idea of stretching out and have a little something to eat sounded good.

Not five minutes later, he was pulling off the highway and into the roadside diner. “Wait for me,” he ordered, and I frowned again. My eyes widened with surprise when he hurried out of the SUV and he rushed to my door.

The man was full of surprises. Dressed a lot more casual than I was used to seeing him, he was breathtakingly handsome. Not that Lucas wasn’t good looking on a regular basis. He was. He wore a three-piece designer suit like it had been made with him in mind.

But there was something so masculine, rugged almost, about seeing him against the snowy mountain background dressed in a cream-colored cable-knit sweater and faded jeans. He almost seemed a little more approachable.

I shook the thought away.

I knew better than to make wishes on the impossible. I had given my heart to my college boyfriend, baring my soul and everything I liked in and out of bed, only to have it used against me. Love and happily ever afters might work for some, but I wasn’t one of those people.

It took too much trust and faith to let myself be vulnerable again.

Lucas opened my door, and our eyes connected.Maybe it wouldn’t be work with him?my heart whispered, and my lungs seized. There was something about the way he looked at me, something a part of me wanted to believe in.

“Be careful. It’s icy,” he warned. His tone sounded a little harsh but nothing out of the normal.

Just like that, he helped me remember the man I was used to.

Lucas wasn’t some softie. He was ruthless and mean. The more I reminded myself, the better.

“Coco, are you okay?” he asked, and I blinked, unable to hide how good his concern made me feel and the way I shivered. “Shit! You’re cold.” He opened the back passenger door and came back with a deep green hoodie in his arms. One I’d seen him wear after a workout.

“Here.” He offered me the sweater. I opened then shut my mouth. There was too much going on in my head to trust myself to say a word. I almost wanted to pinch myself to see if I was actually awake.

Lucas, being on a roll of surprises, started to bunch the material and pulled it over my head. And I just let him dress me, covering my body with his hoodie, surrounding me with his scent and warmth. Once he was done and pulled the hood over my head, he looked at me with an almost smile on his face. The closest I’d seen to the real thing.

“Warm?” I nodded, unable to trust my voice or what the hell would slip past my lips.

But he wasn’t done rocking my world. Not even close. His large, warm hand found mine and pulled me close to his side before he shut the passenger door and led the way into the diner. The place was cozy inside. Decorated in reds and whites, and a couple of Christmas trees twinkled brightly all around the space.

“This is cool.” His lips brushed against the shell of my ear. That was another first. Lucas avoided sharing space with me like the plague. Yet he was plastered to my side. And for some forsaken reason, I couldn’t find myself to push him away. Not when he was warm and smelled almost as good as the cookies I wanted to try.

An older lady with snow-white hair asked if we needed a table for two, and Lucas nodded. The whole moment was a blur. All I focused on was the way his hand rested at the small of my back. The heat of his touch permeated through the fabric of his hoodie and the thin material of the long-sleeved blouse I was wearing. His touch stayed long after we sat down.

I stared at the menu but couldn’t read a thing.

I couldn’t seem to steady my erratic heartbeat or the hope that started to bubble up inside of me.No! He’s a walking red flag!I tried to remind myself, but it was useless.

He never touched me.

He never moved in close, at least not on purpose.

There had been one time, three months ago. The elevator had filled up when we were heading down. He’d been forced to stand behind me, close enough I’d felt his body heat radiating in waves against my back.

“What are you thinking about?” His deep voice snapped me out of the memory and momentary freakout.

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