Hey, thanks for your continued support. I appreciate it.
I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Chasing Christmas Eve.
"So, other than being a real estate mogul," Mercedes teased Sam, giving him a little hip bump at his sink, and wanting to lighten the mood, "What else do you do these days?"
"I still do the app's updates as needed, but I'm also working on something new."
"The drones on your coffee table?" she asked.
"They're part of a big project that's due in January."
"How's it going?"
His gaze met hers.
"I don't know. There's been a beautiful stranger tossed into the mix and I'm having trouble focusing."
At that, the air between them seemed to crackle and she got the tummy flutter again.
"You think...I'm beautiful?" she asked.
"I do."
The air crackled some more, then Sam stepped into her and there seemed to be no air at all.
He reached for her and right at that moment from deep in her pocket, her phone vibrated twice in quick succession.
"Son of a beach," she muttered, and he laughed.
"You ever going to answer any of those texts or calls you've been getting all night?" he asked.
"No..."
She hesitated, conflicted and worried.
Everyone knew she was on a break, even her brothers.
She'd checked in with Jaci and Trisha. And she'd spoken briefly to her mom and Johnathan, when she'd been out in the city earlier, both of whom had wanted the usual.
Her mom to complain about her life, and Johnathan, to get her to agree to some public appearances...an ongoing bone of contention between them, because she tried to do the bare minimum, when it came to those things.
Part of what had drawn her to writing...besides the fact that she absolutely loved the actual writing...was the simplicity of the life.
She didn't want to be a public figure. She wasn't good at it, as proven by what had happened the last time she'd reluctantly agreed.
She'd been sent to do the Late Night show and had tripped coming out onstage.
On camera.
And the YouTube video of her revealing her black lace thong, had seven million views. To this day, her world-class ass is still being talked about.
But, that her phone kept going off, made her worry that maybe, there'd been some kind of emergency.
"There's this little thing called the power-off button," Sam said. "Works like a charm."
"I thought about turning it off," Mercedes admitted. "But I'd still know the messages were there and worry about missing an emergency."
"Feel free to check in," he said easily.
"I know I shouldn't keep it on me like this, but I'm a hopeless control freak, apparently. It's an old habit from when the twins were minors and capable of unbelievable stupidity."
"It's okay, Mercedes."
Reluctantly, she pulled the phone from her pocket. And one look at the screen had her taking a deep breath.
Davis.
No surprise there.
And...Johnathan.
There'd been a time, when just seeing his name, would've made her heart leap like she was a teenager with a silly crush.
But he'd fixed that for her with one shockingly hurtful event, eradicating any romantic feelings she'd had in a blink, which didn't mean that she was ready to face him.
She pushed the thoughts aside and called her brother back first. He was always the easiest to get things out of.
"Hey," she said when he picked up. "What's wrong?"
Except, she could hear what was wrong.
"Why is the smoke detector going off?" she asked.
"Because I was making a cheeseburger and set off the alarm," Davis yelled.
"Again?" she asked, putting her finger in her other ear, as if that could help her hear passed the wailing alarm. "Seriously? How hard is it to turn the vent to high, when you're cooking burgers on the range?"
"What?" he asked.
"Turn on the vent!" she yelled.
"I can't hear you!"
Mercedes closed her eyes and shook her head.
"I can't remember how to get it to turn off!" her brother yelled.
"The broom! It's in the corner by the trash. Wave it at the smoke detector and then call the security company, to let them know it's a false alarm..."
She broke off.
"Are you eating in my ear?" she asked.
"Hey, gotta eat the burgers while they're hot."
Mercedes pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it, as if it had offended her, before punching disconnect and shaking her head.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"How old is he again?" Sam asked.
"Twenty-three going on twelve," she replied.
And since she had the phone out, she went ahead and flipped through the unread texts.
The first text was Davis from earlier, wanting to know where her car keys were. Next, there was Johnathan, wanting to know when she was sending a chunk of her manuscript. Then, there was David...Davis' twin...wanting to know if she'd send him some money, because he forgot to pay the electric like she'd asked and now there were extra fees to turn it back on.
Mercedes stopped and transferred some money, but by then, Davis was contacting her again, wanting to know if she could get him tickets to Hamilton, to impress a date.
And last but not least, her mom wanting her to bring her some soup from her favorite deli, even though the deli was literally half a block from her residence and currently, three thousand miles away from her.
Did no one read her texts?
"I know you said, the chef doesn't do dishes, but I'd really like to," Mercedes said. "It relaxes me."
"How is that even possible?" Sam asked.
"I'll show you."
She turned to the sink.
"Uh..." he started.
Mercedes paused and he grimaced.
"You should know something," he said.
"Okay. What?"
He grimaced again.
"I've never done dishes in this place."
"Never?"
"I'm not even sure I have dish soap."
She stared at him and then laughed.
"But I swear I'm not like your brothers," he said. "I don't have a sister but if I did, I wouldn't call her for money or help. I'd take care of her."
Wishing that those words hadn't moved her, Mercedes started rifling under the sink and found some dish soap there.
"Not my doing," Sam said, lifting his hands. "All Nancy. She takes care of this building and also me. I'll have to give her a raise."
Nodding, Mercedes made the water hot and squirted soap into the sink.
"Put your hands in here and scrub a dish," she said.
He did as told and then slid her a look.
"Is your brain calm yet?" she asked. "And empty of thoughts, so that you can focus?"
"Does imagining you doing these dishes in those heels you're wearing and nothing else, count as calm and empty of thoughts?" he asked.
Amusement and arousal vied for her current top emotion, which had never happened before.
Having both those things barrel through her with equal fervor, left her momentarily unable to decide what to do.
So her inner child came out and she splashed him.
With water dripping from his nose, hair, and glasses, Sam grinned...the kind of grin that felt like one hundred percent trouble, of the naughty variety.
Which, clearly, she was imagining.
"Now, I'm imagining you wet and doing dishes in nothing but those heels," he said.
Her knees wobbled.
"You're...flirting with me?" she asked.
"I am. You okay with that?"
'Oh boy,' she thought, suddenly feeling a little out of her element.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
"I'm just not used to the feeling," she admitted. "I'm not sure what to do with it."
"Let me help you with that," Sam said and splashed her back.
This started a water fight, that invoked squeaking...on Mercedes' part...and swearing...on Sam's part...but it was the most fun she'd ever had doing dishes ever.
Afterwards, he got them each a towel.
"Are you cold?" he asked. "I've got some hot chocolate mix. I make a mean hot chocolate."
Mercedes met his gaze.
He'd had to remove his wet shirt, and somewhere along the way, he'd also lost his shoes.
His feet were bare and for some reason, she found this combination incredibly sexy.
Maybe she just found him sexy.
"I do love hot chocolate but it's getting late..."
"The hot chocolate comes with marshmallows," he said. "If that interests you."
"The freeze-dried marshmallows or real marshmallows?"
"Are you kidding me? Real, of course."
Mercedes smiled.
"So you've got your priorities."
"Damn straight!"
He smiled, and she thought,
'God...that smile.'
But she needed to think and she needed to do so without him looking at her.
Because, when he looked at her, like he was looking at her right now...like to him, she was pretty and sexy and interesting...her, Mercedes, not M.J. Callista...she couldn't think at all.
"Thanks for letting me into your space tonight," Mercedes said to Sam. She got the feeling it was special that he'd done so, and very rare.
"Uh-oh." His eyes locked on hers. "I sense both a 'but' and a blow-off coming."
She shook her head.
"Just a 'but.' " She paused. "But...I really should go."
"Before dessert?"
She bit her lower lip in indecision.
"So?"
"I've never successfully resisted dessert," she said.
He smiled again.
"A woman after my own heart. Dessert is the base of my food pyramid."
He opened one of the pantry drawers. It was filled with cookies, candy bars, and more.
"Holy cheese toast," she murmured. "It's the mother lode."
"Help yourself."
'Said the spider to the fly...'
Sam began plying Mercedes with an armful of cookies and the like. But he added on one too many packages of cookies and it all fell out of her arms to the floor.
Laughing, she bent low to scoop them up, just as he did the same. They bumped heads, and not nearly as graceful as he, she fell backward onto her ass.
"Sorry!" they both gasped at the same time, and then their gazes locked and there was that crazy spark again, bouncing through her insides, touching down at all her good spots...of which she seemed to have far more, than she remembered having.
Sam, still crouched low and easily balanced on the balls of his feet, dropped to his knees and pulled her up to hers.
Brushing the hair from her forehead, he eyed the spot where they'd connected.
"You okay?" he asked.
She started to say yes, but his gaze slid to her mouth and she lost her train of thought, instead licking her suddenly dry lips.
And Sam, watching the movement avidly, let out a rough breath.
"Mercedes..." he said quietly, in a very serious, very low octave, that sounded like pure sex.
She stood up.
"Y-yes?"
Also standing, he slid his hands up her arms, giving her a very slow tug, almost as if expecting resistance.
But there was no resistance.
Hell, she nearly took a flying leap at him.
He laughed softly, sending a bolt of heat through her. And her knees wobbled, just as his arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her.
Their gazes locked and they both froze in place...she, from a sudden rush of emotions, and Sam, probably from watching them play out across her face.
Once again, Mercedes started to say something...though she still had no idea what...but was silenced by his hot mouth covering hers.
'Yes!' was her only coherent thought as she pressed up against him, and he angled his head, taking the kiss even deeper.
His arms tightened on her, pulling her in hard, and she squirmed to get closer still, suddenly desperate to feel as much of him as she could.
Sam kissed her long and deep, and she heard a moan, hers, she realized, shocked at the neediness of the sound, as well as the hunger and desire that flooded her at the same time.
It would've humiliated her to the core, if she'd been alone in this, but with Sam's arms closed around her, along with his rough groan, she knew he was right there with her.
When Mercedes grew breathless...which took, shockingly little time...and when she was on the verge of ripping off his clothes, she forced herself to pull back.
Out of her comfort zone, with her heart threatening to secede from her chest, she stared at Sam, as the battle raged inside her.
Fear and lust were in mortal combat, the outcome uncertain.
"Okay," she said breathlessly. "So now, I've really gotta go."
Sam drew in a deep, shuddering breath that wasn't much steadier than hers and pulled off his now crooked glasses.
"Hang on a second." He tossed them aside. "I need to check on something."
"What?" she asked warily.
Once again, he slowly drew her in, his eyes heated and focused on hers, infusing her with some of his calm.
"I want to see, if this is how it's going to be."
"How what's going to be?" she whispered.
"This."
His kiss started out just as slow and thoughtful as the first, all careful control. But when his tongue touched hers, control flew straight out the window.
So did all good sense as they went at each other, desperate and hot.
Suddenly, Mercedes' back was to the wall and Sam was plastered against her front, and still she was trying to get even closer.
When they broke apart, rather than suffocate, they stared at each other, breathing unevenly.
"Okay," he said, stroking the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. "So that's definitely how it's going to be."
Mercedes didn't have words.
And Sam didn't have much, it seemed, because, he used his actions instead, lowering his mouth to her neck, nuzzling it.
"You smell so good," he murmured after a while, against her skin. "I just want to eat you up."
Mercedes was all for that, she really was. But there were extenuating circumstances.
Weren't there?
Before she could do something stupid...like take off her clothes...she backed away.
"Gotta go," she whispered and headed to the door, as fast as her feet would take her, which wasn't that fast, because her feet didn't seem to remember, they belonged to the rest of her body.
She took the stairs to the third floor and got to her door before she remembered, she'd left her purse...with her keys...inside Sam's apartment.
"Monkey balls!" she said and knocked her head against her door a few times.
"Careful...you'll knock something loose," someone said.
With her forehead still pressed to the door, she opened her eyes and found her purse dangling in front of her.
From Sam's fingers.
Sam watched...through blurry eyes, because he'd left his glasses upstairs...as Mercedes continued to press her forehead to her door, before slowly turning to face him with a wry smile.
"Guess that's what I get for running off like that, huh?" she asked and took her purse. "Thanks."
She sorted through a mountain, of what appeared to be notes, to locate her keys.
Then, Sam gently took them from her and unlocked the door.
Right away, the black cat came running with a chirpy greeting and wound herself around Mercedes' ankles, until she scooped her up and nuzzled her.
"Mercedes.." Sam said.
She looked up at him, her gaze guarded.
"You're not wearing your glasses."
"I know. And I can't see shit."
She smiled a little. But only a little, because, for whatever reason, he'd spooked her and she clearly didn't want to discuss it.
"Rain check on dessert?" he asked.
She hesitated and then nodded.
"Night," he said.
"Night," she replied, but didn't move.
She nibbled on her lips and stared at his mouth, and under different circumstances, he would've nudged her inside, for a repeat of that brain-melting, heart-stopping kiss they'd just shared, a few minutes ago.
Because, he had a feeling it would be explosive.
But it wasn't going to happen.
It shouldn't happen.
It wouldn't be good, for either of them, and she'd probably just realized it before he had, that's all.
And yet she was still looking at his mouth, like she wanted another taste of him.
He let out a low groan and a rough laugh and then gently pushed her inside.
"I'm going to shut your door behind me, Mercedes," he said. "And then, you're going to lock me out."
"Probably a smart idea." She met his gaze. "Thanks for tonight. It was...perfect. Everything felt perfect. Even you. I guess, that's why I had that little momentary freak-out back there. I'm sorry about that."
Sam shook his head, waving off the apology.
"Trust me, I'm not even close to perfect. If you were staying in San Francisco for any length of time, I'd prove that to you."
He believed that, one hundred percent.
He could easily focus on work, prioritizing it over her, without even realizing it.
"So you're saying...you're going to disappoint me?" Mercedes asked.
Sam felt his smile fade.
"I have no doubt."
She stared at him for another beat and then nodded.
"Good to know."
Several days later, Sam had pulled his second all-nighter in a row in front of his computer and needed caffeine, more than he needed his next breath of air.
When he finally left his office and blinked at the morning sun, he was feeling like a vampire.
He'd spent months being frustrated at the press and at being followed around...thanks to Finn...and at having everyone and their mother want him to invest in their crazy schemes.
But it had fueled him, to bury himself in creating the security program for the medicine delivery drones. And he'd been really getting somewhere too, and was actually on the verge of completing it.
And now...nothing.
The thermal imaging cameras he was using were necessary for medical care, but they were heavy and wore on the batteries.
Balancing those two things, was taking more than physics.
There was a solution, he knew it. He just needed to concentrate.
But all his brain cells had been dedicated to bugging him, to go find Mercedes and finish what they'd started.
Which meant, Christian was wrong.
Sex...or almost sex...had the opposite effect of helping him.
He crossed the courtyard and headed straight for the coffee shop.
Tasha owned and ran the place, and the dark-skinned, six-foot woman in towering platforms, flashed him a warm, welcoming smile.
"Looking a little crazy there today, sugar."
"Feeling it too," he said, as she made his usual without asking.
Back when Tasha had been Thad, there'd been only coffee here.
Now, she made muffins and croissants, and when she was in a really good mood, pie as well.
Amazing pie.
Sam eyeballed the display hungrily.
"Haven't gotten to the pies yet today."
Tasha bent to a low shelf and came up with a to-go box.
"But I saved you a slice of yesterday's key lime." She smiled. "To miss my key lime is a crime."
"Hey," a guy standing in the pickup line said. "You told me you didn't have any key lime."
"I don't," Tasha said and winked at Sam. "Your girl was here earlier, working her very cute ass off at one of my tables."
'My girl,' he thought. It wasn't true, but damn if he didn't feel a little bit like a happy caveman at the thought.
"She pounded away on her laptop like she was possessed," Tasha said. "It was cute. And inspiring. I have no idea what she was doing or working on, but she was happy doing it."
'Okay, so I wasn't the only one working my ass off,' Sam thought. And at that thought, he realized something else.
Mercedes wasn't like him.
She could balance a full life and work, and even, it seemed, be inspired by it.
That piece of knowledge did something to him, deep in his gut.
It tapped into some deep-seated belief, that maybe, he could do the same.
At least with her.
Out in the courtyard, Sam opened the box. There were actually two pieces of pie and two forks.
Tasha knew him all too well. She also knew that Old Man Steven had the same food tastes...and distastes...as him and that he would share.
With a sigh, he strode passed the fountain and peered into the alley.
And yep, there was his grand dad, leaning against a dumpster, talking to someone.
The same petite, curvy someone, he couldn't stop thinking about.
Stay safe friends!