“Oh, well, come on in.” She opened the door all the way. “You must be freezing.”
“A little bit, yeah.” He stepped inside and blew on his closed fists, hoping to return some feeling to them before next year rolled around. “Are your parents asleep already?”
She closed the door and leaned against it. “They’re not here, actually. They decided to spend their holiday in the Caribbean. I’m house sitting for them.”
His mouth dried out when she reached up to tuck her bangs behind her ear. His fingers twitched with the need to touch her hair. To see if it felt as silky as he remembered. There was no one home to stop him from acting out on the urge to pull her into his arms. No one to stop him but himself. He was screwed. “So you’re … alone?”
“Yeah.” Her cheeks turned pink, and her hand tightened on the doorknob. “All alone on Christmas. Pretty pathetic, huh?”
“You?” He shook his head. “I’m alone on Christmas, too. So I’m right there with you.”
She looked up at him in surprise, but lowered her chin. “I don’t think anyone in their right mind would call you pathetic.”
“You’d be surprised.”
She walked past him into the living room and held up the magazine on her coffee table. “People Magazine calls you the most eligible bachelor in Hollywood—for the second year in a row. We all know that magazines are never wrong, so you can’t argue with them.”
“That doesn’t count.” He snorted. “They only say those things about me because they don’t know the real me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I used to know you. Does that count?”
She did know him. She knew him better than anyone else on this planet, whether she realized it or not. With her, he’d let his guard down. She’d been his only real friend growing up, maybe ever. He had lots of friends nowadays, but none could be trusted not to share his secrets with the tabloids.
Their bond had never gone further than friendship for various reasons. And yet … being in her company for a mere three minutes already had him wanting to touch her. Kiss her. He wanted to bury himself in her.
He cleared his throat and looked at the door, his heart pounding in his ears. Where was all of this desire coming from? Sure, it had been a while since he’d gotten laid, but this was different. With Lacey, it felt more like a need. A need to hold her close and kiss her until she couldn’t remember anything except his name. If he stayed here, he might not be able to keep his hands to himself. No. He should make a phone call and charter a plane immediately, before he did something he would regret. “Maybe I should go.”
She raised a brow. “You’re welcome to spend the night. I don’t think anyone will come to tow you out until the snow stops. Morning at the very earliest.”
“Yeah, but …” He gestured at the stairs. “You’re alone. I don’t think your parents would like me staying here without their permission.”
She choked on a laugh. “You’re kidding, right? You do realize I’m not seventeen anymore? I think it’s okay if an old friend of the family stays the night.”
If she knew that the family friend she spoke of wanted nothing more than to carry her upstairs and explore every inch of her naked body … she might not feel that way. His cheeks heated, and he ducked his head. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Then come in. Take off your shoes. Go sit by the fire.” Her voice grew more distant, and he lifted his head to find her. She strode toward the kitchen, her hips swaying with a grace and seduction he had a feeling she didn’t even try to achieve. “I was about to open up a bottle of champagne, so I’ll grab another glass for you.”
He forced his eyes away from her ass and turned to look out the window. The snow fell in rapid succession, showing no signs of easing up anytime soon. He couldn’t drive away from here, and there was no other house within walking distance. Looked like his options were to stay inside with her—or brave the ice and snow outside for the next twelve hours wearing his Gucci shoes and a lightweight jacket that did more for his style than his personal comfort.
Eyeing the crackling fire in the living room, he kicked off his shoes, walked into the living room, and sank onto the couch. He knew what he had to do. What he should do. But instead, he decided to break a few rules, have a little fun. After all, he hadn’t seen Lacey in eight long years, and he wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
He would stay, but he’d keep his damn hands to himself no matter how tempted he was to see if her lips tasted as good as he’d always imagined they would. He had no right barging into her life and taking advantage of her, only to disappear in the morning. He’d spend an hour or two with her then crash on the couch until morning.
Alone.
Chapter Two
Lacey grabbed a champagne flute with shaking fingers. So the boy she secretly wanted throughout high school, the very same boy she’d compared every single one of her boyfriends to ever since, sat in her parents’ living room. That same boy had turned into a famous, hot, successful, sexy man she regularly drooled over on the big screen. He would be spending the night with her, so close she could touch him if she so wished.
And he was oh, so touchable.
Okay, she needed to stop it right there. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Just because he was stranded and without any other options for shelter didn’t mean he was interested in her in any way, shape, or form. It didn’t mean he wanted her fawning all over him, like every other woman in the world.
He was rich and famous—and she was still the small town girl who used to tutor him in math. Time hadn’t changed her too much. Lacey taught elementary school, like she always knew she would. If only she could hold onto a relationship the way she held onto her dreams of teaching.
She eyed the kitchen table, leaning back against the counter for support. They used to sit there for hours, while she would do her best to help him understand calculus. In between math equations and complex problems, they talked about their futures and their dreams. She’d wanted to be a teacher, and he’d aspired to be an actor. She hadn’t had a doubt he would succeed in his goals back then … and he hadn’t.
Fine. She could do this. She would play it cool, and make it a point not to fawn all over him, or beg for his attention. The key was to remain cool, calm, and collected. Raising her chin, she headed back into the living room. She would act as if nothing changed between them. He was still the boy she used to tutor, and she was still the girl he used to cheat off when he forgot all the stuff she taught him. For tonight, she would forget he was now an A-list star sitting on the couch, waiting for her. No, tonight he would be Mark, high school football captain. Not Mark Delaney—mega superstar.