What She Craves by Anne Rainey Page A

sipped her hot coffee. The temperature was in the teens outside, and it wasn’t much warmer in her drafty kitchen. As she looked around, taking in the nearly fifty year old house, Tory sighed. It’d been her grandmother’s house until she’d passed away and left everything she owned to her only granddaughter. Tory knew she should renovate the old two-story, but she couldn’t bring herself to change even the color of the paint, as hard as the bright yellow was on the eyes, much less let some construction crew tromp around getting drywall dust all over her Nana’s prized area rug. Her grandfather had bought the oval rug when he’d had to go overseas on a business trip. It wasn’t the most beautiful thing, with the puke-green-and-rust floral print, but her grandmother had loved it, cherished it. No, Tory thought with fondness, the house would stay as it was, well-loved, if a little drafty at times.
    Tory took another sip of her coffee and desperately tried to come up with a logical reason why she couldn’t spend the evening with the lovebirds, when the phone rang. Ah, saved! Tory set her cup back down and stood. By the time she’d reached the living room, the phone had rung twice more. She grabbed it from the cradle and said, “Hello?”
    “Hey, sugar. What’s up?”
    Tory smiled as a little tingle skated down her spine. She’d recognize that devilish voice anywhere.
    One of her best buds, Devon Mason. Sweet, funny, cute as hell and just ornery enough to make her forget What She Craves
    the little pity party she’d been throwing herself. “Hi, handsome. Not much, just talking to Summer.” Tory walked back into the kitchen to find Summer rinsing her cup and setting it in the sink.
    Devon groaned. “Is she still trying to get you to go to her place tonight?”
    “Yes,” Tory bit out, as she picked up her own cup and brought it to the sink.
    “Nothing quite like watching new lovers to make you feel like a total loser during the holidays, huh?”
    Tory turned and leaned against the counter, Summer’s gaze glued to hers. “Uh, yeah. Something like that.”
    “So, how about you come with me instead?”
    Instantly perking up, Tory asked, “You’re going to Con’s party?” Their mutual friend Con Walker held an annual Christmas party. The event was talked about for weeks beforehand and months afterwards.
    No expense was spared when Con threw a party. She’d gone every year and always had the time of her life.
    This time around, she had no date. Going alone seemed…beyond sad.
    She heard what sounded like shuffling papers in her ear, then Devon said, “Wouldn’t miss it.”
    Summer motioned to the other room, indicating she was going to the bathroom. Tory nodded. Once alone in the kitchen, she asked, “And you don’t have a date? That surprises me, Devon.”
    Devon made a tsking sound into the phone. “I wouldn’t ask you if I had a date.” He paused, then added, “And why should that surprise you? It’s not like I’m a player, Tory.”
    Okay, now she felt bad. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that you always have a date at Con’s Christmas Eve Gala.”
    “So do you, sugar. But I figured since we’re both available this year, it couldn’t hurt to go together, right?”
    It did sound like fun. Tory always enjoyed Devon’s company. And Con, though not as playful and flirtatious as Devon, made for some damned interesting company, she admitted to herself. Where Devon tended to be the impulsive jokester, Con’s personality leaned more toward quiet and intense. Together they never failed to entertain her. As Summer came back into the room, Tory made her decision.
    “What time are you picking me up?”
    She heard Devon chuckle. “Be ready at seven, sugar.”
    “Okay.” A little shiver ran through her. Crazy as it seemed, she was nervous. It’s not a date. He’s one of your best guy friends, nothing more. Get a grip.
    “Good. And Tory?”
    “Yeah?”
    “I have a feeling this is going