Author's Note: So, after last chapter, I think we can all agree that the 'must have' gift of the season is a Derek-in-the-Box! LOL

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

~Angie

Chapter 4 - Chick Flicks, Snow Flakes, & Romping...Oh, My!

"OK," Penelope managed to get out from between her ragged breaths. Her adrenaline rush hadn't quite yet subsided. "I was going to apologize for hitting you upside the head, but then I realized that you're the one who broke into my apartment! I thought you were chasing a mouse!" she said in an accusatory tone.

Even as she was scolding him, she reached her hand out to help him to his feet. Her purse had knocked the wind right out of him; it was amazing what an unexpected hit could accomplish.

She dropped her bag next to her feet and placed her hands on her hips. "Would you care to explain?"

"Sure, as soon as I get my breathing regulated," he answered caustically, throwing her a dirty look.

That was the wrong thing to do after the trauma he'd just caused her. "Oh, no!" she informed him angrily. "You do not get to give me the hairy eyeball, Derek Morgan!"

"I was trying to do something nice for you!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"By giving me a heart attack?" she shot back.

With a sigh, Derek threw his hands in the air. "Clearly this was a bad idea!"

Penelope was about to agree with her best friend when she noticed his appearance for the first time since he'd jumped out of the box. His chest was bare—how in the hell had she missed that?—as were his feet. In fact, the only thing he was wearing were a pair of red fleece pajama bottoms with a single sprig of mistletoe covering his crotch, and a little saying on the waistband. She had to squint to read it:

Take a lookie at what's underneath the mistletoe.

Penelope couldn't help it—her eyes flew to the area just between his muscular thighs and studied the bulge that was always there. Unless Derek Morgan walked around in a constant state of arousal (which, she was willing to concede, was a definite possibility) the man had it goin' on in spades.

She felt her cheeks begin to burn and lifted her gaze to his heated one, then scowled at the knowing grin on his face. "Derek," she said with a sigh. "What is going on? I thought you were home packing for Chicago."

Derek cleared his throat. "Change of plans," he muttered. "I'm yours for the holiday."

"You—" Penelope tilted her head to the side. "Your—mine—huh?" she stammered.

Derek sighed. "I heard your conversation with Emily at the bureau's annual Christmas party. About what you wanted for Christmas? I decided I was going to give it to you!"

"Derek, what are you talking about?" she asked in complete confusion.

He leveled his gaze on hers as he waited for it to sink in—he didn't have to wait too long.

"Oh," she groaned as she plopped down onto the couch. "Oh, sweet Lord in Heaven."

"Yeah," Derek said, sitting down on the other end.

"OK," she said standing, her tone firm. "We…are…just…going to pretend this never happened! Because clearly you didn't hear the conversation in its entirety, Derek. I'm sure you just heard the 'having a guy around the house part,' and that's not all I'm looking for."

"No," Derek said as he, too, stood. "I'm pretty sure I heard it all."

Penelope stood there for a moment, staring at him unblinkingly. She had to keep her eyes on his face and force them not to wander down to his washboard abs. "No. No, I don't think you did."

"I did," he argued.

"Derek—"

"You want someone to warm your bed for the weekend," he replied simply. "And Penelope?"

"Yeah?" she answered more quickly than she'd have liked.

He shook his head. "I didn't bring an electric blanket."

Sweet Lord! Had someone turned the furnace up in here? She was suddenly so hot she felt a single droplet of sweat travel down the valley between her breasts, but that wasn't all. Although, she wasn't sure she could attribute the pooling between her thighs to the heat. Lifting a hand, she gave her collar a tug. "Derek," she squeaked. "I should have been more thorough. I'm talking chick flicks—"

"I love a feel good movie," he interrupted.

She sighed. "Cutting out paper snowflakes—"

"Awww…reminds me of Christmas with my mom when I was a little boy," he countered.

"And romping. Lots and lots of romping," she informed him with a defiant lift of her chin.

He took a step forward and tapped her on the nose. "Lucky for you…I'm into romping," he said in a low voice.

Penelope sighed impatiently. "I mean with me."

Derek quirked a brow at her. "You think I'm going to have a problem with that?"

Of course he wouldn't, she thought. But who would he be pretending she was? Penelope laughed nervously. "Listen, Hot Stuff," she started, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "I know your intentions are good—"

"No," he interrupted her harshly. "No, they're not good. They're not good at all," he informed her. "Do you want to know where my intentions stem from?"

Not really, she thought, but didn't quite dare to say it. She'd seen that angry look on Derek's face many times before, but never had it been directed at her. For the first time since she'd known him, she felt a bit of fear—but not for her safety. She had a feeling she was in store for a tongue lashing—not the good kind—and she didn't even know what it was for!

"My intentions from come a fucking year of waiting to kiss you again! My intentions come from a place so damn deep inside that I can't even control them. One taste of you, Baby Girl, and it unleashed the beast in me.

"You want to get laid? Here I am. And I'm telling you, another man even tries to come near your bed—or get you into his—and I'll kill the bastard. Because Darlin', the only man I approve of for you…is me."