A Wrong Bed Christmas. Liz Talley

to treat her like a little sister so he stopped seeing her as a full-fledged woman with hips and curves. “I’m not sure you have enough white.”

      She fake scowled. “Pardon me if I don’t take fashion tips from a man who thinks pajama pants are acceptable for going out in public.”

      “Correction—lounge pants. Not pajamas,” he said, adding with a wink because he couldn’t help himself. “As you’ve already discovered, I sleep in the nude. No need for pajamas.”

      Her cheeks flared adorably and he had to admit it did nice things to his ego. Knock it off, Romeo. Erik’s little sister, remember? Layton reined in his giddy libido with effort. “Okay, show me where the lights are and let’s get this started.” If Alexis sensed the fact that he was struggling with the need to be the good guy, she didn’t let on and he was thankful. He was quickly becoming a powder keg and she was the match. Just how would Erik react if he found out that the guy he’d left his injured little sister with had ended up boning her like some jerk-off who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants for one damn day. Yeah, Layton knew exactly how he’d react—badly.

      And with good reason.

      Layton hefted the box of lights from the garage and followed Alexis’s instructions, bringing three big boxes from their storage spot to the front porch.

      “I’ll test the strands, you hang,” she said cheerfully, her breath pluming in front of her as her eyes sparkled. “I’m so glad I’m getting a chance to hang these a bit earlier than expected. Typically, I like the lights to go up right after Thanksgiving, but with midterms and a brutal professor who seems to hate me, I’ve been knee-deep in school stuff.”

      “So master’s degree...that’s pretty impressive.”

      She grinned broadly. “My dad calls me the perpetual student. He swears my decision to get my master’s was to get out of finding a real job.”

      “Was it?”

      Alexis gasped with mock outrage. “Of course not. I just want to land at the top of the food chain, and the only way to do that is with a master’s degree.”

      “You want to be the boss?”

      She looked wistful and aggressive at the same time as she nodded. “Hell yes. I don’t know if you could tell, but I’m not the type of person who takes orders very well. I’m much better at giving than following them.”

      Why did he just think of her giving orders in bed? And why the hell did he find that idea hot as hell? Get your head in the game and focus, Layton! Thoughts like that are gonna land your ass in a pan of boiling water.

      “The world takes all sorts,” he said with a forced grin, watching as she tested the first strand. Satisfied when all the lights twinkled and blinked, she handed the strand off to him and moved onto the next. He took the light hooks and began lining them along the porch rafters so he could hook the strand into each one. “Okay, so don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t seem the Suzy Homemaker type. What’s with the driving need to decorate for Christmas?”

      “Christmas is my favorite holiday and always has been,” she answered with a small shrug. “There’s just something about the holiday that recharges my battery and restores my faith in humanity.”

      “Christmas does that for you?” he asked incredulously. “That’s funny, all I see are a bunch of people trying to screw each other over for material stuff.”

      “Sure, that happens, but what about the stories of people who go out of their way to help a stranger?”

      “Yeah, I suppose that’s nice.”

      “You suppose?”

      “No, that didn’t come out right...it is nice. I guess I just don’t see enough of that. Christmas always seemed the greediest time of year. Really turned me off the holiday.”

      “That’s a tragedy.”

      He shrugged. “Nah, it’s just life. I like St. Patrick’s Day, if it means anything.”

      “And why is that?” she asked.

      “Because it’s a day sanctioned for drinking beer.” She rolled her eyes and he grinned, adding, “Can’t imagine a better holiday than that.” Layton held the strand, inspecting it for loose wires of any sort as a force of habit. “Actually, I’d be lying if I said that I don’t enjoy Christmas a little bit. I like the lights and the displays but I’ve seen too many house fires caused by Christmas trees that it’s hard to forget what’s left behind.”

      Alexis sobered, pausing in her strand detail. “That must suck.”

      “It does. I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer, but Christmastime...can be kind of scary for public service. Do you realize that suicides and domestic violence go up during the holidays?”

      “You’re a bowl of sunshine,” she said, handing him the strand. “You should really think of going into inspirational speaking.”

      “Sorry. Occupational hazard, I guess.”

      “You’re forgiven, but I don’t care what you say, nothing can dim my holiday spirit. I love the holiday and I’m determined to enjoy every last moment.”

      Layton had to respect her determination to get her Christmas on, no matter the obstacles.

      “One question though.”

      “Yeah?”

      “Why are you decorating your brother’s place? Is he as nutty about the holidays as you are?”

      “Gracious no. Erik is about as observant as a lawn gnome. He’s not much into the whole decorating thing, which is why he lets me do what I want. Someday I’ll have my own place and I’ll be able to stop commandeering my brother’s place.”

      “Heaven help the man you settle down with. I can only imagine what your house is going to look like.”

      “It’s going to be fabulous and whoever I end up with will be the luckiest guy in the world because I make the world’s most insanely delicious gingerbread-men cookies and I give a pretty hot blow job.”

      Layton stumbled back, missing the step and going down hard on his ass in the snow.

      “Are you all right?” she asked, barely holding back her laughter.

      “I’m fine,” he grumbled, climbing to his feet and wiping the loose snow from his pants. “You shouldn’t say things like that to a man you barely know.”

      Alexis smiled with the innocence of an angel, but that impish twist at the corners of her lips ruined it in the most tantalizing way.

      “Just stating facts.” She held out the next strand as if she hadn’t just rung his bell hard. “Better hurry, that storm is moving quick.”

      “Are you the devil?” he muttered, mostly to himself, but she heard him loud and clear.

      “Not the devil but quite possibly a fallen angel.”

      A fallen angel with an agenda.

      And he was running out of willpower to stay the course.

      Heaven help him, what had he gotten himself into?