Merry and Bright by Jill Shalvis

my charming nature.” Spooked, she just stared at him. Her brain didn’t feel like it was getting enough oxygen, so she decided to sit. Her tire had been slashed. Merry Christmas to her.
     
     
    Ah, hell. Jacob looked over Maggie’s head to where his truck was parked, complete with a plane ticket sitting on the front seat.
    But he wasn’t going anywhere.
    And not just because his heart rate was still affected by that kiss, or because Maggie’s lush mouth was still wet from his and he wanted to see what else was wet, but because he had a bad feeling that this smart, adorable, sexy woman who was nothing but trouble was in trouble. “Do you have a spare?”
    “Yes.” Her voice was muffled, but then she lifted her head. “And I took a class on how to change it, too.”
    Of course she had. He had a feeling this careful, organized, brilliant sexy mess could do anything she set her mind to.
    “Is it hot?” she asked. “I feel hot. Maybe it’s nerves.”
    “It’s not hot. It’s actually chilly.”
    “Did you know that minus forty degrees Celsius is exactly the same as minus forty degrees Fahrenheit?”
    “That’s a new one for me.” Knowing she was about to lose it, he took her hand. “Listen, how about I change the tire for you, while you call the police and make a report.”
    “What if it’s just one of the twenty-two percent of random, senseless acts of violence that people face in their lifetime?”
    He slid her a glance. “You know, you’d really kick ass on Jeopardy. ”
    “I already did. That’s how I paid for my PhD.”
    He shook his head in admiration as he pulled out his cell phone and called the police himself, but due to a high volume of calls, they wouldn’t even come out and take a report.
    “It’s okay.” Maggie pulled out her keys. “I’ll just get the spare—Uh-oh,” she said when she opened the trunk.
    “Uh-oh?” He peered over her shoulder and saw nothing but stacks of craft supplies. “Where’s your spare?”
    “My sister borrowed my car. She’s been volunteering at her kids’ school, and my trunk is bigger than hers. She must have taken out the spare.” She sighed. “Dammit. I’ll call her.”
    “How about I just take you home?”
    She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes still soft and heated, her cheeks flushed. “I don’t know.”
    “You’re not spooked at having your tire slashed but you’re spooked at me driving you home?”
    “Of course not.” She gnawed her cheek a moment. “It’s just that if we go to my house . . .”
    He liked where that sentence was going. “Yeah?”
    “Nothing. A ride would be great, thank you.”
    She squirmed all the way to her place in the Glendale Hills above L.A., her brain working so hard he could practically hear the wheels whirling. He pulled into the gated complex of her condo unit and looked at her. “Maggie.”
    She jumped. “Yes?”
    “You do know this was just a ride, right?”
    Her face flushed. “Of course. Just because we . . .”
    “Had sex.”
    She winced. “Yes, that. Which doesn’t mean we’re going to pull off all our clothes and have more sex.”
    “Do you want to?”
    She stared at him. “It was just a one-time thing.” She seemed to hold her breath. “Right?”
    He stroked a strand of hair along her temple. “It’s whatever we want it to be. What do you want it to be, Maggie?”
    “That’s sort of the problem,” she whispered. “I didn’t think this far ahead, which is really unlike me.”
    “You like to think ahead.”
    “I really do.”
    “Okay, you go ahead and think on it then.” He walked her to her door, where she turned to face him, pressing her spine up against the wood. “Thanks so much for the ride, but you don’t have to come in.”
    “I want to. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
    “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “Because someone slashed your tire.”
    “That was random.”
    “Okay, but if I promise not to look at you even if you do strip your clothes off, can I please