A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,104
on her.
Griffin Gallagher wasn’t someone who could traipse into, then back out of, her life without leaving an indelible mark. Even after one night spent together, she’d remember him in exquisite, unforgettable detail. Eyes like his could haunt, that accent would certainly resonate inside her thoughts and memories . . . and his kiss—she couldn’t think about it if she had any hope of completing the highly stylized decorating she was attempting.
The man she’d begun to know, the few layers she’d peeled back, had been tantalizing to her. There was depth, and thoughtfulness, and a great sense of purpose. And a background he was clearly ill at ease talking about. There was a roughness and a refinement to him. She’d bet the former had come first, which meant he’d had to work hard to achieve the latter. He was complicated and complex, and he intrigued the hell out of her. The chemistry made him that much harder to ignore.
So, what should she do when the bubble burst, and they were forced to return to the real world, and the very real people in it? They were on opposing sides. Granted, she saw his side far more clearly ... but the insight hadn’t changed her opinion on his proposed changes to her home.
“Should I bring the larger cake over now?” he asked, as he gracefully took the tray of cupcakes she’d finished detailing and slid them onto the last storage rack. “Is the fondant soft enough for rolling?”
She smiled at that. “Listen to you, sounding like a pastry chef.”
He shrugged, but smiled. “Not me. Growing up, I never fancied making desserts. Was always far more attracted to chopping things up, I suppose.”
“Well, you’d have made a good baker. You’ve got the hands for it.”
He laughed outright. The sound of it was rich, melodious, and surprisingly infectious, much like his voice. “These hams?” He held them up, the latex gloves he was wearing stretching tightly over his knuckles.
“You’re surprisingly graceful with them,” she said, her tone as dry as her smile. But she’d been sincere with the compliment. “If you ever decide to give up your burgeoning empire and the need to make the world over, I could use them here. A little bit of time and training, and I daresay you’d soon be challenging me as lead baker.” She cocked her head. “Goodness knows what kind of innovative things your mind could come up with. We could put Cups & Cakes on the map.”
She’d been teasing, but hadn’t expected his expression to change like it did. She’d expected, maybe, some double entendre about her needing his hands, had—maybe—said something along those lines for that very reason. She just ... was mixed up and turned on and tired out.
She wasn’t prepared at all for the way his expression grew serious, or the way he took her shoulders in his big hands and turned her gently but firmly so he could trap her between him and the table.
She didn’t reject the invasion of privacy. Hell, her body was all but throwing a welcome party. If she were being honest, she’d wanted his hands on her again since the damn oven beeper had gone off hours ago. But the look in his eyes wasn’t sensual, or even predatory, though it felt like both to her. He was just ... serious.
“You need to know something, Melody.”
“What?” she said faintly. Her thoughts were all jumbled up with the riotous reactions his touch was setting off. She wished she could be more collected, more cool, but the simple truth was that despite the very civilized couple of hours they’d spent together, she was feeling anything but cool with him. No matter how well she got to know him, the civilized him, she’d bet there would always be that less-than-civilized element between them. Beneath all the refinement, he was still rough. In all the ways that appealed to every primal instinct she had. “Wh-what is it?”
“About the town, about . . .”
That jerked her thoughts back to some semblance of sanity. “Hamilton? What—what are you talking about?”
“You need to know, should know, but—dammit.” He broke off, looked down, but didn’t release her.
“Griffin?”
He lifted his gaze to hers. She’d never seen him so serious. She remembered his earlier comment after she’d asked him what the big rush was to change Hamilton into some resort town. The alarm she’d felt then was nothing compared to the sudden, sick squeeze that knotted her stomach.