With the sluggish winter sun hanging low in the gray sky,
Detective Parker Ross dragged himself out of his salt-
andslush-covered car. Howling wind shoved against him,
jerking the car door from his hand to slam it shut. His
dress shoes slipped on the icy blacktop and he almost lost
his footing. The frozen parking lot echoed his muttered
curse.
Cautiously, he started forward, taking in the depressing
sight of his apartment building. The landlord’s attempts
at decorating had left bedraggled strands of colored
lights haphazardly tossed over the barren, neglected
bushes that served as landscaping. Some of the bulbs had
blown, while others blinked in a drunken hiccup.
On the ground near the walkway, a dented plastic snowman
lay on its side, half-covered in brownish slush, cigarette
butts, and scraps of garbage.
Damn, but he’d be glad when the holidays passed and life
returned to normal.
Slinging his soiled suit coat over his shoulder, his head
down in exhaustion, Parker trudged along the treacherous,
icy walkway. He didn’t have an overcoat with him because
the last perp he’d tangled with had destroyed it.
Weariness and disgust kept him from noting the frozen
snowflakes that gathered on the back of his neck; after
such a bitch of a day, even the frigid December weather
couldn’t revive him.
A hot shower, some nuked food, and sleep—that’s all he
needed, in that exact order. Once he hit the sheets, he
intended to stay there for a good ten hours. He had the
next week off, and he didn’t want to do anything more
involved than camping on his couch and watching football.
God knew he deserved a rest. The past month of holiday-
evoked lunacy and criminal desperation had left him little
time for relaxation.
Parker saw Christmas as lavish, loud, and downright
depressing. With his planned time off, he intended to hide
out and avoid the nonsense.
Now, if he could just slip into his apartment without Lily
Donaldson catching him . . .
Thinking of Lily sent a flood of warmth through his
system, rejuvenating him in a way the frozen weather
couldn’t. He was old enough to know better, but no matter
how he tried, Lily tempted him. She also infuriated him.
She aroused his curiosity, and his tenderness.
She made him think, and she made him hot.
She had trouble written all over her. He wanted to be all
over her.
In the ten months he’d known her, Lily had influenced his
life far too often. Smart, kind, gentle. She carried food
to Mrs. Harbinger when the old lady fell ill. She argued
sound politics with fanatical Mr. Pitnosky. Both
intelligent and astute, Lily smiled at everyone, never
gossiped, and had a generous heart.
She loved Christmas, which rubbed him raw.
And she had a terrible case of hero worship. That was the
hardest thing to deal with. Parker knew he didn’t possess
a single ounce of heroism. If he did, then resisting her
wouldn’t be so damn difficult.
In a hundred different ways, Lily made it clear she wanted
to be more than friends. But her age made him wary, her
enthusiasm scared him to death, and her love of a holiday
he scorned showed they had little in common.
On top of all that, he had serious doubts about her
occupation.
Yep, a conundrum for sure. Parker hated to think about it,
yet he thought about it far too often. Not once had he
ever noticed any work routine for Lily. Sure, she left her
apartment, but not dressed for anything other than a real
good time. Always made up. Always decked out, dressed for
seduction.
Sometimes she left early, sometimes late.
Sometimes she stayed gone for days, and some days she
never left the apartment at all. But that didn’t stop a
steady stream of admirers from calling on her. The only
reason Parker could tolerate that situation was because
the guys seldom lasted more than a few hours, never more
than a day.
Whatever Lily did to support herself, she sure as hell
didn’t punch a time clock.
He’d tried asking her about her job a couple of times, but
she always turned evasive and changed the subject, leaving
Parker with few conclusions to draw.
He was a selfish bastard who refused to share, so even if
the other roadblocks didn’t exist, no way could he let
their friendship grow into intimacy.
That didn’t mean he could keep his mind off her.
Throughout the awful day—hell, the awful month—thoughts of
Lily made the hours more bearable. He imagined her sweet
smile, the special one she saved for him. He imagined that
deep admiration in her eyes whenever she looked at him.
He imagined her lush bod, minus the sexy clothes she wore.
Seeing her now would shove him right over the edge.
Avoiding her was the smart thing to do.
He planned to duck inside as fast as his drained body
would allow. If she knocked, and he knew she would, he’d
pretend he wasn’t home.
After rubbing his bloodshot eyes, he opened the entrance
door to the apartment building and stepped inside.
Whistling wind followed in his wake—and still he heard her
husky voice, raised in ire.
Shit. With no way to reach his front door, Parker paused
by the mailboxes and listened. Lily’s usually sweet voice
held a sharp edge of annoyance. She probably had another
smitten swain who didn’t want to take no for an answer.
Peering out the glass entrance doors, Parker considered a
strategic retreat. Maybe he could drop by a bar and get a
beer. Or visit his mother—no, scratch that. His mom would
start trying to rope him in for a big family get-together,
caroling, or God-knew-what-other holiday function.
Maybe he could . . .
Lily’s voice grew more insistent, and Parker’s protective
instincts kicked in. Damn it, even if it fed her goofy
misconceptions about him being heroic, he couldn’t let
some bozo hassle her. Giving up on the idea of escape,
Parker trod the steps to the second floor. Halfway up he
saw her, and he forgot to breathe.
A soft white sweater hugged her breasts. Dangling, beaded
earrings in a snowflake design brushed her shoulders. Soft
jeans accentuated a deliciously rounded ass.
Previously spent body parts perked up in attention.
Nothing new there. No matter what Parker’s brain tried to
insist, his dick refused to pay attention.
Lily’s pale blonde hair, pinned up but with long tendrils
teasing her nape and cheeks, gave the illusion that a
lover had just finished with her. Heavily lashed brown
eyes defied any innocence.
And her bare feet somehow made her look half-naked.
His heart picked up speed, sending needed blood flow into
his lethargic muscles. Predictably enough, he went from
exhausted to horny in a nanosecond.
Vibrating with annoyance, Lily stood just outside her
apartment. A fresh, decorated wreath hung from her door,
serving as a festive backdrop.
Lily loved the holiday. And he loathed it.
But for now, he couldn’t let that matter. Lily had a
problem. She had a dispute.
She had... a guy on his knees?
Parker blinked in surprise at that. Lily’s confrontations
always involved men. More specifically, they involved Lily
rejecting men. But a begging guy?
That was a first.
Glued to his spot on the stairs, Parker stared, and
listened.
“It was not a date, Clive. Not ever. No way. I made that
clear.”
“But we had lunch,” Clive insisted, reaching out to grasp
her knee. “Just the two of us.”
While stepping back, out of reach, Lily exclaimed, “I
picked up the bill!”
Clive crawled after her. “But I would have.”
She slapped his hands away. “I didn’t let you—because it
was not a date.”
“Lily,” he moaned. “I thought we had something special.”
“Tuna fish on rye is not special, Clive. Now get up.”
At her surly reply, Parker bit back a smile. Lily excelled
in brokenhearted boyfriends, and this guy looked very
brokenhearted. Poor schmuck.
As Clive obediently climbed to his feet, Parker looked at
Lily—and met her gaze. The surprise in her brown eyes
softened to pleasure; she gave him a silly, relieved smile—
expecting him to heroically save the day.
And Parker supposed he would.
He’d taken one step toward her when good old Clive threw
his arms around her. “I love you!”
“Oh, puh-lease.” Lily shoved against him, but Clive
wouldn’t let go.
“I do,” he insisted. “Let me show you how much.”
Glancing toward Parker, Lily said, “Don’t be stupid,
Clive. I know why you’re here.”
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