Page 36 of Miss Christmas

The driver shook his head. “No can do. You’re in on it. A judge. No betting for you.”

The car pulled up to the curb then and Will didn’t bother trying to explain that he wasn’t a judge anymore and that he had no influence. He wasn’t even sure if it were true anymore. He probably could have a word with a judge or two to influence them. Or maybe they didn’t even need a word. Maybe all they needed to do was observe—like Guy had done—to know.

As he let himself out of the limo, he tossed a hundred-dollar bill inside and said, “Put this on Scarlet to win—for yourself. And thanks for the intel. Wait here.”

Belatedly he realized it wasn’t a good idea to crash in on George and Margo without calling first, so he pulled out his phone and punched in George on his speed dial screen as he stood under the awning in front of their building. Cold wind buffeted him, but he hardly cared, hardly felt the cold penetrate. He was too hot thinking of Scarlet. And he needed George to talk him out of seeing her. Tonight.

George finally answered. “What the hell, Will?”

“I’m outside. How about if I come up for a visit?”

“If you insist. Problem? Where’s Emily?”

“She’s home where she belongs, never to be dated by me again.”

“No chemistry.”

Will snorted. “I bet it was evident to a blind man.”

“Now what? I don’t think coming up for another drink is the solution.”

“I need fortification. I need someone sensible to talk me out of going to see Scarlet. Right now. Tonight.”

“Aha. And you think there’s someone with that much sense here?”

Will let George’s implication hit him. Then the freeing lightness moved him as if he were a balloon untethered and he spun around.

“You think I should go see her?”

“I told you I was on Team Scarlet.”

“Thanks.” He ended the call and marched back to the limo, not bothering to wait for George to finish whatever the hell he had to say. He’d said enough. His cousin had given him enough confidence that maybe he wasn’t entirely out of his mind to want Scarlet Jones. Serious intentions or not. Heartbreak potential or not.

He got back in the limo and said, “We’re going to Brooklyn, Guy.” And he gave the driver Scarlet’s address. Guy didn’t need to be told who lived there, judging by his approving grin.

As Will sat back in his seat for the ride, he punched Scarlet’s number into his phone. No way could he take a chance on surprising her. Tension and anticipation rose in him in the form of a rising dick as he listened to her phone ring. By the fourth ring, he was worried about the tightness in his chest. She answered on the fifth.

“Will? It’s almost eleven p.m. What are you—? Never mind.”

“Hello, Scarlet.” He loved saying her name.

“No.”

“No what?” he pretended he didn’t know, his heart hammering and his dick undaunted.

“No booty call, that’s what.” She didn’t sound angry, or even resigned. She might even sound teasing, unless it was his dick playing tricks with his hearing.

“I want to see you,” he said. Plain and simple truth.

“I thought we agreed I’m not your type? Not to mention your family is all wrong for me. Or I’m all wrong for them.”

“You presume too much,” he lied.

She laughed.

God, he missed her, the easy familiarity and emotional openness. He felt like he’d just been let out of jail

“I know you, Will. You’re an all-or-nothing kind of guy and I know what we have is not nothing.”