undergarments on underneath. I can do it on my own if you want to wait.”

  Matt ground his teeth, struggling with both the urge to strangle her and strip her naked right then and there. “Just turn around.”

  Even her awkward waddling movements couldn’t get his mind off of what he was about to uncover. She was on her knees with her hands supporting the rest of her weight on the edge of the window as if she was ready for his rock-hard cock. God help him.

  She swayed back and forth, pulling the white cloth to just above her knees with one hand.

  “You ready?” she asked.

  Matt would never be ready for what he was about to see. He yanked the material up like he was trying to remove a band aid with little pain. What he saw slammed him at his core.

  The woman was wearing the sexiest lingerie he’d ever seen. Most of her back was exposed, as well as her ass, through a delicately laced white teddy complete, with a dental-floss-thin thong, matching garter belt, and thigh-high stockings that ran down the length of her shapely legs, ending at sparkling silver wedged heels.

  “Son of a bitch.” If she heard him, she didn’t respond. Somewhere in his mind he knew he was there for a specific task, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was.

  Camille was hot. She was more than hot. She was perfect. Round, soft, feminine, and lush in all the right places. If he pushed her head forward just a bit more, he’d be able to see the folds of her...

  She cleared her throat. “I know it’s a mess, but I didn’t know how to keep the halo up without putting it around my neck, and that wasn’t going to happen.” Her voice sounded strained.

  Matt blinked several times. The halo. He was supposed to be unhooking the halo.

  He inched nearer to her, careful not to look down. It was impossible. The closer his thighs were to her tight ass, the harder he got, and the more his fingers stopped working.

  She arched her back. “Does this help?” she asked in a breathy voice.

  His fingers grazed her bare skin around the bra hooks, and he could have sworn she gasped.

  That did it. He pushed up against her bare buttocks, allowing her to feel his hard-on.

  “Listen, lady. This isn’t easy for me. Just shut up and let me work on it.” His voice sounded foreign to him.

  Matt heard her gulp when he shifted his erection so that it was nestled in the middle of her perfect ass. He waited for her to move or tell him to get off of her. She didn’t move.

  Good, he thought. She should be suffering, too.

  The knot she’d secured using what he assumed was part of a wire hanger wasn’t as complicated as he had thought, once he was able to focus. He moved as little as possible until the contraption had slid free and he had thrown it in the back seat.

  He dropped his hot, damp forehead on the cool, vinyl headrest. The cab was silent, with the exception of the whistling wind and their heavy panting.

  Matt squeezed his eyes shut. She’d responded like a woman who wanted him, too. He clenched his fists, the nails stinging in his palms. It didn’t matter. No woman was worth a quick roll in the hay, no matter how much he wanted her. Eva Sandberg had taught him that the hard way.

  A cab was the last thing he should be driving. It was a far cry from the BMW convertible he’d been zooming around in four years ago. Family money had given him everything he thought he’d wanted.

  He’d met Eva at an art show just before Christmas. He remembered how her little black dress had clung to her body, ending just above legs that went on forever. Everyone thought she was a model. She was everything a young man with money wanted to be seen with and envied for having.

  She’d been a master at her craft. She had made him feel special, wanted, and above all else, safe enough to allow her access to all his account information.

  Six months after Eva walked into his life, he received a call from his bank wanting to know if he was unsatisfied with their service. He had, after all, withdrawn all of his savings.

  Matt knew before he’d arrived at his penthouse that Eva wouldn’t be there. She’d taken everything of value, including his car. He’d never know how his heart didn’t stop beating that day.

  The police never found a thing. She hadn’t used her real name, and what little DNA they found didn’t match anything in their databases. He was screwed.

  Two months after she disappeared, he moved out of his penthouse with the few belongings he had left to his name. His credit was shot. He’d never worried about education after high school. He wasn’t marketable. Driving a cab was the best he could find. Now he lived in a crappy little studio apartment in the Bronx, where he could hear gunshots round the clock. His measly little income barely covered his expenses.

  He’d taken his life before Eva for granted, especially this time of the year. When his parents were alive, he’d spent the season hopping from party to party, ending with a spectacular Christmas Day with his family.

  The year his folks died, he’d dreaded the approaching holidays, at least until Eva walked into his life. She’d become his hope that he’d never spend one alone.

  He'd been a moron. His life had been good, even easy, until that point and he'd taken it for granted.

  Eva became his world from the moment they met. He'd even told her he loved her. She said it back. She'd lied.

  Now he knew what he'd felt hadn't been love. She gave him what he'd wanted and he'd gobbled it up. He'd been in love with lust for her.

  He could see now that they'd never had truly spontaneous sex. Eva made it seem like it was spontaneous but in hindsight saw that every single time she weaseled out some kind of information she needed to pull off the con. He'd been led around by the dick without knowing it. Stupid just didn't seem like a strong enough word to describe his ignorance.

  The way Eva had worked her way into every aspect of his life so quickly should have sounded the alarms but all he heard was the rushing of blood to his nether regions when it came to her. He never thought of himself as innocent before but now he saw how sheltered he'd been in his comfy, well-provided world.

  It shouldn't have been a surprise that he'd become a target. In fact, now he was surprised it hadn't happened before Eva. Any decent con watching him might have been able to pull it off.

  But Eva played the game better than he could have imagined. Her body had been the perfect weapon. He'd been defenseless against it. Then she ended up with her hands on absolutely everything he'd owned.

  He tried not to look back but having Camille so close stirred up those familiar instincts he had around an attractive woman. If he did think about it, he hated himself.

  How could he not have seen something wasn't right? He knew nothing about her family, past or anyone in her present life. He hadn't cared. Eva was all he thought he'd needed. His horny fog cost him everything.Now he spent the holidays isolated with nothing but a twelve pack of beer and a bad attitude. Every day of the year something reminded him of what he used to have, but Christmastime really made his losses sting.

  From early November through the end of December he had to cart one broad after another around the city as they shopped for Christmas. Sure, there were a few guys who needed rides and complained about their wives or girlfriends. Those were the passengers who helped him to keep from blowing up at those vapid, selfish bitches.

  It didn't help that most of the women barked out their destination the second they plopped onto the seat, chattered incessantly on their cell phones and didn't hesitate to criticize something about his driving or the route he'd taken. They were all the same. How he hadn't snapped and strangled one to death he'd never know.

  Women were spawned from Satan. He needed to remember that. That’s why they came in such attractive packaging, so men like him couldn’t resist temptation and would succumb to the bait.

  Matt’s anger rose as he remembered the reason he hadn’t been with a woman he couldn’t love-and-leave in a long time. He pushed Camille’s bare skin into the steering wheel as he shimmied back to the passenger seat.

  “Ow!” He felt bad as she rubbed her hip. There was a softness to Camille he hadn't experienced around other women. That's what had to be throwing him off. She was a whole different kind of wolf in sheep's clothing. But he’d do whatever he had to in order to keep her from enticing him away from his safety zone.

  “You’re good to go,” he announced, rubbing his hands together like he’d just fixed the plumbing. He couldn’t fool himself, but he was going to try his best to convince her he was all business.

  Camille narrowed her eyes and shifted to face him, patting down her costume so it pooled at her knees. They stared and waited, as if daring the other to mention their intimate moment.

  She broke the silence and held her hand out. “Sweater?”

  “Oh yeah.” He checked under his knees before he found it balled between the door and seat.

  He thrust it into her face.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, working it over her head. The plain brown sweater was about ten sizes too big, and she swam in it. But damn, if she still didn’t look sexy.

  Matt bit his upper lip and put his jacket back on. What was it about this woman that made him think with his cock rather than his brain?

  He needed to focus on the problem at hand and not the woman. “Okay. Why don’t you let me get out first? Then I can see if I can open the door or if I’ll have to help you out the window.”

  She nodded and they did more jockeying around each other, changing places. Their eyes met as their chests made contact, and Camille licked her lips. He squeezed his eyes shut and lunged for the open window, landing with a thud.

  Matt climbed up, lifting one leg out first, then the other. He tried to land on his feet but instead fell on his ass in the snow. By the time he had brushed the powder from his clothes, every limb was shaking from the cold.

  The wind whipped wet snow at his cheeks, and his lungs ached from the cold air. There was no way he could dig the cab out with his bare hands. “I’m gonna have to pull you out. You ready?”

  Seconds later, Camille popped up out the window to her waist. He wrapped his arms around her and she did the same, placing his face right in her bosom. She smelled so sweet. How he wanted a taste of her right then.

  Her wriggling snapped him out of it. A swift lift, turn, and drop later, they were ready to move.

  “Which way?” he shouted over the wind.

  She pointed toward a line of tall pine trees swaying to his right and tucked her hands underneath her arms. Matt stomped several feet ahead and glanced over his shoulder. Camille was taking small steps and slipping with almost every one.

  Damn it! He hadn’t considered her footwear. How could he forget those hot heels with the silver glitter?

  Puffing bursts of hot air, Matt turned back, grabbed her around the waist and propped her up enough so she could shuffle alongside. He practically pulled her with him.

  “You okay?” he called out when they’d reached her mailbox.

  “Yes,” she said through chattering teeth.

  “How about your feet?”

  She didn’t answer right away, so he took the liberty of grabbing her skirt and tugging on it.

  Her exposed feet were buried under the rising snow.

  “Why the hell didn’t you say something?” He bent down, curved one arm behind her knees, and scooped her up.

  “You can’t walk the whole way like this,” she objected. “I can do it! The pain is almost gone. I don’t feel much of anything anymore.”

  “You stu...” He bit his tongue. “That’s frostbite, lady. We need to get your feet warmed up as soon as possible.” He paused. “How much further?”

  He could feel her warm breath on his ear as she yelled over the wind. “Maybe a quarter mile.”

  Of course, he thought to himself. He mentally patted himself on the back for taking his pent-up anger against Eva out on the punching bag still hanging in his apartment from the previous renter. Camille wasn’t that heavy, but he couldn’t have made it if he’d been out of shape.

  Beads of sweat peppered his brow, and he picked up his pace. Her arms tightened around his neck as he lost footing a few times. He swallowed hard and shivered while trying to focus on anything but the soft, beckoning body in his arms. Matt grunted. Having her in his arms made keeping his mind off her body impossible. He was becoming a master at walking with a hard-on.

  The driveway went straight back until it rounded a curve and a small log cabin appeared in a clearing. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t the welcoming rustic home in front of them. The silhouette of the cabin against the white world should have provided a sense of relief. Instead, he slowed his pace. He’d have to give up the feel of her body against his soon.

  He didn’t want to let her go. Damn it!

  When he reached the top of the porch stairs, he held on a moment too long before he set her down. She grabbed his shoulder to get her footing. Without thinking, he slid his arm around her waist, and she leaned into him. He couldn’t help but breathe in her scent again.

  “Thanks.” Her voice was breathy, sexy. He couldn’t tear his eyes from hers. Camille gazed back until he lifted his hand to her cheek. She blinked twice before she righted herself, turned, stooped, and retrieved a key from underneath the welcome mat.

  He shook his head and grimaced. How could he find anyone stupid enough to leave her key under the doormat so appealing? Not only that, but she’d revealed it in front of a virtual stranger.

  Dumb broad.

  He didn’t realize he’d said that aloud until she turned. “What was that?”

  His brain scrambled for anything. “Dark house. Power out?”

  She nodded and bent over to get a close-up view as she inserted the key. He enjoyed the excellent view of her ass. The door creaked open.

  Camille limped across the darkened room and rustled around. Matt closed the door behind him and stood rigid. What was a guy supposed to do in this type of situation?

  He remembered her feet. “We’ve got to do something about your frostbite, lady.”

  “In a minute. I’m starting a fire. And my name’s not lady. It’s Camille. Or Cam.”

  A hiss cut through the darkness and her face glowed against the far wall. She lowered the match, and with a poof the fire crackled to life.

  Camille dropped onto the floor with a thud and pointed to the left. “The kitchen’s through that archway. There’s a bucket underneath the sink. Get some warm...”

  “I know what to get,” he said, cutting her off. You’d have to be a moron not to know what to do with frostbite. What he didn’t want to admit was that he was impressed she knew.

  Careful not to waste the hot water, he took his time getting back to her. She was still on the floor, her arms tight around her knees and her eyes squeezed shut.

  “Camille?”

  Her eyes flew open and he saw a tear glisten as it ran down her cheek. “I’m scared,” she choked out.

  He tightened his grip on the bucket. Her eyes were wide and damp yet at the same time, hopeful. She trusted he would help her.

  He'd been a dick from the moment she'd gotten into the cab with him. Any other person would be afraid to turn to him, but not Camille. The innocence behind her faith in him made his heart hammer against his chest. She needed him.

  Matt saw her pain, sparking his desire to take care of her. Screw his past. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to give to a woman. Now to see if she’d take what he had to offer.

  CHAPTER 3

  Hearing him say her name out loud for the first time pushed Camille over the edge. Just minutes after her feet had first hit the snowy ground, they had burned so much that she’d wanted to cry. She hadn’t dared to show weakness in front of Matt. He’d made it clear he had a problem with women. She could only imagine how much more of a problem she’d become if she added tears to the equation. But when her body warmed by the fire and her feet began to burn again, the reality of how damaged they could be hit her hard. She didn’t want to look at them.

  Matt crossed the floor, spilling water and cursing. He plopped the bucket in front of her bent legs and knelt next to her.

  “Have you looked at them yet?”

  His tender tone took her by surprise. She shook her head. More tears spilled over.

  Camille cracked one eye open when she felt a tug on the fabric that was wrapped around her feet. She watched his face. He smiled.

  “It might hurt like a bitch, but you’ve only got mild frostbite,” he announced. “I don’t know how you don’t have toes snapping off at the joints right now.”

  She grinned through tears of relief. “Really? I’m not going to be all deformed and stubby?”

  Matt laughed. “No, you’re not. And even if that were to happen, I doubt feet as pretty as yours would look bad, no matter what.”

  Their eyes locked. His cheeks flushed and he fumbled, reaching for the bucket. With tentative fingers, he raised the hem until the skirt bunched in her lap. He took his time unhooking and rolling each stocking down her leg.

  His rough fingers grazed her skin, and Camille sucked in a breath. In spite of the pain, she felt desire building low in her belly.

  “Here. Put your feet in the water. It’s not hot, but you don’t want it hot. Soak them, and I’ll refill it with warm water when it starts to get too cool.” He paused. “You wouldn’t happen to have a generator somewhere around here, would you?”

  “Yes, I do. It’s in the basement.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Good. I just want to make sure we've got access to hot water.

  Which way is the basement?”

  “You don’t have to look so surprised. I was born and raised right here. You don’t live in this area without a backup plan in case the power fails.”

  He returned her smile. Camille’s heart fluttered.

  “I keep a flashlight in the kitchen on top of the cupboard to the left of the sink. You’ll want that before you go down.” She pointed to the basement door in the corner of the room.

 

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