“No, it’s just something I saw and I thought of you,” he replies, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s not being completely honest with me.

I don’t want to get out of the warm car when we get home. I know it’s only a few steps to the elevator, but the parking garage is freezing and I’m already shivering when Drew opens my door and to let me out. With teeth chattering, I practically run to the elevator, leaving Jeff and Drew following, carrying our Christmas haul in their arms.

“I need to move to a tropical island,” I grumble through pursed lips. “I’m so over cold weather. I love the other three seasons, but winter needs to take a hike.”

“You just need to grow a thicker skin. You’re such a wimp.” Jeff nudges me and Drew dazzles me with a smile. Yep, I said dazzle—see what the cold does to me? I might also be thinking I’d love for him to warm me up too.

Oh lord, I’m losing it majorly. One minute I want to comfort him, and the next I want to make out with him furiously.

“Since we have our arms full, do you think you could open the door for us, or are your hands numb from the cold?” Sarcasm so suits Jeff. He can see I have my gloves on. I pull out the old-fashioned key and open my door, leading Santa’s little helpers into the room beyond.

“Do you want a beer, Drew?” Jeff asks, opening the fridge.

He pulls two out as Drew nods. I loathe beer. It tastes nasty. I don’t care what brand it is, it all tastes like shit. No, I haven’t tasted shit, but it’s what I think it might taste like. Give me wine or a fruity mixed drink and I’m there. Or at least I was until my last bout with wine where I lost miserably.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Jeff says after taking a gulp from the bottle. “Try not to gossip about me while I’m away, okay?”

“Aww, you take all the fun out of it,” I reply. “But really, we have more enjoyable and entertaining topics to discuss. It’s not all about you.”

He chuckles and closes the bathroom door. The silence is deafening. All of a sudden, I don’t know what to say to Drew. Awkward? Check. We’ve never been alone before, and I think I finally know the meaning of “cat got your tongue?” because mine is MIA.

“Would you like some hot chocolate?” Drew’s voice startles me, and I turn around to see him leaning up against the fridge, looking solemn. Does he feel as awkward as I do right now? No, how could he, he has women eating out of his hands all the time. Yet for some reason I get the feeling he is as nervous as I am.

“I’d love some, but I don’t have any.”

“I have a stash of gourmet mixes that I received in a basket from my agent, and I’d be willing to share.” He pushes away from the fridge and opens the door into the main loft.

I follow behind him. I can think of several other ways we could warm up, but my face just warmed up enough for the both of us. Damn my red hair and fair complexion. I feel my skin grow even warmer as I watch Drew’s tight derriere making its way into the kitchen.

For the love of baloney and cheese, Dora, pull yourself together and quit thinking about naked butts. Oh heavens, his butt isn’t naked. It’s encased in a tight pair of butt-loving jeans.

My temperature soars to a new high, and I stop following Drew’s butt and plop down on the nearest sofa. What I wouldn’t give for a handful of snow right about now.

“Almost ready. I picked French vanilla and double milk chocolate with tiny marshmallows. Is that okay?”

“Perfect,” I croak out.

My current state has affected my vocal cords. I’m a mess, a total mess. I haven’t whined this much in years. I used to be a person who was grounded and boring. Boring boyfriends, boring sex, and a boring life, and now all I can think about are penises and butts. What’s next? Hot kinky sex? Sadism? Masochism? Bondage? Nope. I have a low tolerance for pain, and I’d be too chicken to dish it out. Okay, so I may punch Kevin and Jeff occasionally when they act like morons, but no, kinky sex will definitely not make it on my bucket list.

I hear Drew clear his throat and look up to find him standing beside me holding a mug that reads, “Models do it model perfect.”

“Corny, huh? Our agent put it in the gift basket. He may be a good agent, but he’s a total dork.”

“He probably means well,” I say, taking the cup from him. I expect him to sit opposite me, but he settles down right beside me on the couch. There are a dozen more seats he could have picked, and next to me is a little too close for comfort.

“It’s going to get cold, so drink up,” he says in his husky voice. It causes me to quiver. I sure hope he thinks I’m still a little cold. “Would you like a blanket?”

I shake my head. I can’t speak because a vision of him and me naked under a blanket comes to mind. My mind has turned into a guy’s these last few months. I’ve never thought this much about sex in my whole life.

“If you change your mind, let me know.” His thigh is so close to mine, I start to sweat, or “glow” as grandmother says. Nope, it’s sweat.

I take a long drink from my mug. OMG, it’s like nirvana. The flavor pops in my mouth, and I moan at the mouthwatering flavor that travels past my taste buds and down my throat.

“It’s an orgasmic experience. I knew you’d love it.”

I turn to look at Drew, who has a satisfied smile on his face as he takes a long drink. Orgasmic? I wouldn’t know about that. Finding someone to actually give me an orgasm is the hard part. The closest I’ve come is the encounter with Colin, but he seems to have lost interest, or maybe he just wanted to see if I was worth the effort. I guess I wasn’t.

See? I’m right about pretty boys. It’s all about them.

“You seem preoccupied. Is something up?” Drew’s voice interrupts me.

“Mmm, I was thinking that this is the best cup of hot chocolate I’ve ever had, and I want to know where your agent found it.” There you go, Dora. That sounded normal, not like you’ve been thinking about hot orgasms.

“Did I hear ‘hot chocolate’?”

Relief flows through me at Jeff’s voice. I jump up and move away from the hot package beside me, handing Jeff my mug.

“Take a drink and tell me what you think.”

“No need to share, Dora. I’m off to make him one.” Drew rises from his seat and brushes past me on his way to the kitchen. Yep, there go those hot flashes again.

“Here take mine. I need a shower stat.” I practically throw the mug at Jeff.

“Cold shower?”

“Shut up, and wipe that silly grin off your face. Some days I almost hate men, gay or straight.” I stomp off—yes, juvenile, but I feel like throwing a fit. Damn sonofabitch hormones.

All the good work the hot chocolate did is wiped out by the cool shower. I say “cool” because I don’t want Jeff to be right about the cold shower.

Jeff walks into the room an hour later, looking like a cat that just swallowed a canary.

“Can’t believe you bailed on me. It’s so dangerous leaving such a delicious morsel alone with me.” He makes himself comfortable on my bed, propping himself up on one of my overstuffed pillows.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. He’s so not into you. He’s so straight it’s sickening. Have you seen the thousands of women he’s scored with? He’s been in so many magazine tabloids and on all those sleazy celebrity news shows. I bet he’s even lost count of how many women he’s had.”

Why am I so angry?

“I think you’re wrong. I think it’s the women who have scored. Being seen with the great Drew would boost anyone’s status. I find it hard to believe he’s slept with every woman he’s been seen with. He’s just doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.”