Murphy walked back into his sister’s apartment early the next morning carrying two fresh coffees and a bag of rolls from the diner down the street. Shayma had still been asleep when he’d gotten up an hour prior and he didn’t have the heart to wake her.

When she’d first suggested watching that movie last night, his instincts had told him it was a bad idea. He needed to keep his distance from her if he had any hopes of this partnership between them working. But then she’d looked so happy and excited when the film started. Truth was, he’d liked it too. That movie was one of Aileen’s favorites as well and watching it had made him feel like his sister was back with him, even for a little while.

At some point he’d fallen asleep and when he’d awakened during the wee hours it was to find himself alone on the sofa and Shayma safely back in her bed. Thank God. He wasn’t sure if he’d have the moral fortitude to keep his hands off of her if she’d been all cuddled up to his side looking as luscious as she did.

He unlocked the door and shoved it open with his hip only to come face-to-face with the woman foremost in his thoughts at that moment. He stopped short and held up his goodies. “Brought breakfast.”

“Oh, great,” she said, her smile shy. They were both still dressed in their clothes from the day before, but he’d showered before he’d left to go to the diner and if her damp hair was any indication, she’d done so as well while he’d been gone. She reached over and took the coffees from him then headed into the kitchen. “For a minute, when I woke up and you were gone, I thought maybe you’d left without me to visit your inventor.”

“He’s not my inventor,” Murphy said, setting the bag of rolls on the counter then grabbing a couple of plates. Shayma’s English was perfect, but every so often a slight hint of an accent would show through, especially when she was tired or emotional, as he learned last night. For some reason, that only made her more endearing to him. Then again, just about everything she did he found adorable. Which was bad. He was in trouble here and he’d be wise to heed the warning bells blaring in his damned head and stay the hell away from her. Instead, he handed her a plate with a roll on it and grinned like an idiot.

Yep. He was a disaster waiting to happen.

They took a seat at the breakfast bar to eat and he did his best to concentrate on his food, and not the beautiful, warm woman by his side. “I hope you like that coffee. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but since you love Christmas so much, I got you the kind with peppermint in it. Aileen always liked that kind this time of year.”

“Aw, thank you.” Her smile was dazzling and he nearly forgot to swallow. “It’s yummy.”

“Right,” he said, gruffer than he’d intended. “It’s fine. Eat up. We need to get over to Queens soon, if we want to catch that inventor guy before he heads to work.”

“What’s his name again?” she asked around a mouthful of doughnut.

“Sam Heard. I called Daveed and he tapped a few connections to get me both the guy’s phone number and his place of employment.” Murph sipped his black coffee, glad for a change of subject. He didn’t do fluffy warm fuzzies this early in the morning. Truth, he didn’t really do them at all. But there was something about Shayma that made him want to try. Another danger sign, to be sure. “The more I find out about this guy, the more I think he’s involved in my sister’s disappearance somehow.”

“Really?” Shayma’s pretty, dark eyes widened. “You think he kidnapped Aileen?”

“No, not necessarily. But I’d bet good money he’s in cahoots with this EnKor company. Maybe with some kind of phony investment scheme for one of his inventions. There are just too many red flags. He claims to be an inventor, yet he’s never filed for a single utility patent. Plus, he works as an accountant at some venture capital start-up during the day. He’d certainly have access to all the high-dollar deals on the market and the means to tempt those companies into doing some less than squeaky clean business with him, if he wanted.”

“Wow. Perhaps Aileen caught wind of it and was going to report it all in her paper.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He finished his Danish then cleared away their trash. “If you’re ready, let’s do this thing.”

* * *

“You want me to get a manicure?” Shayma asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes.” Murphy peeked around the corner of the brick building beside them then quickly looked back at Shayma. “No. I mean I want you to keep an eye on that woman that just walked into the nail salon, talk to her, see if you can find out anything.”

Frankly, nothing sounded better than getting off her feet and being pampered for a while, but Shayma refused to give him the satisfaction. In truth, she was tired. Their promising lead that morning for the mystery inventor had turned out to be a dead end. When they’d gotten to the Queens address Murphy had found in his sister’s computer that morning, it had been nothing but an empty warehouse. Murphy seemed to think that this only supported his idea that the inventor was somehow wrapped up in Aileen’s disappearance, though he’d not shared his details as to why with Shayma.

Now, they were standing in the freezing cold snooping on strange women with no rhyme or reason that she could see. And yes, perhaps Shayma was feeling a bit cranky, but that was beside the point. She narrowed her gaze on Murphy and frowned. “Why? Why should I talk to this woman? You think she wants to date you?”

Not that she cared who Murphy Coen dated. It was none of her business. She tamped down the annoying flare of jealousy inside her and gave him an impassive stare.

“No.” Murphy glanced back at her over his shoulder, his face brimming with annoyance. “She’s the receptionist for EnKor. I recognize her from the description Daveed gave me. If you can get her to talk, we might still have a way into their inner circles. Got it?”

Shayma exhaled sharply and tapped the toe of her shoe against the frozen pavement. “Fine. But afterward, we shop for Christmas decorations.”

Nose scrunched, Murphy faced her head-on. “What?”

“You heard me. Decorations. Your sister’s apartment needs to look jolly and festive for when she returns home.” She placed her hands on her hips and stood her ground. “That’s my offer.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then it looks like you’ll be getting a manicure yourself.”

Murphy scowled. “Fine. But hurry up and get your butt in there. I don’t want to miss our opportunity.”

With a nod, Shayma headed around the corner and into the tiny, crowded nail salon. The acrid scent of acrylic and nail polish remover mixed with the low murmur of conversation in both English and Vietnamese. A petite Asian woman at a work table nearby glanced up as the bell on the door rang. “Happy Holidays. What can we do for you today?”

Shayma did a quick scan of the salon and spotted the receptionist at a table near the back of the room. Luckily the only open seat available was at the table beside hers. “A manicure please.”

“Of course.” The Asian woman rattled something off in rapid-fire Vietnamese, then pointed toward the empty table in the back. “You sit. Someone will be right with you.”

“Thank you.” Shayma made her way back to the seat and shrugged off her coat to hang it on the rack nearby before taking her spot beside the receptionist. The woman glanced over as she sat and gave Shayma a bland smile.

Not usually one for small talk, Shayma said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Busy in here today, huh?”

The receptionist looked at her again before answering. “This is nothing. I was in here last week for a polish change and there was a line outside.”

“Wow.” Shayma greeted the nail tech who commandeered her table then held out her hands for the tech to remove her current polish. “So, you’re a regular here then. You must live nearby?”

“No. Brooklyn. But I work close to this salon. They do good work and the prices are cheap, so I come here on my lunch hours sometimes for a quick polish change, like today.” She looked Shayma up and down. “What about you? First time here, I take it.”

“Yes.” Shayma switched hands for the tech. “I was out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping and saw the sign outside for the manicure special. I needed to get one, so here I am.”

“Right.” The receptionist faced her tech again. Her short blond hair was spiked in the back and an array of tiny stud earrings sparkled from the ridge of her ear. “With those clothes, you obviously don’t work.”

Shayma frowned down at her tailored pants and sweater. Yes, they were designer, but she didn’t think they screamed expensive. Which meant that the receptionist must have an exceptionally good eye. “I’m actually in the city on vacation. A little pre-Christmas shopping spree before I fly home next week.”

“And where’s home?”

“Al Dar Nasrani.”

“Wow.” The receptionist smiled. “Bet all this snow’s sent you for a loop, huh? Make you miss your tropical island home?”

“A little.” Shayma grinned. “Though the winter here is lovely too.”

“Try living in it for a few months. Won’t be so lovely anymore.” The girl laughed. “I’m Emma, by the way.”

“Shayma.” She smiled over at the woman beside her. “I like your earrings.”

“Thanks.” Emma shrugged. “The firm where I work is fairly conservative, so I try to rebel in all the little ways I can.”

“What’s the name of your firm?” Shayma asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“It’s a green energy company called EnKor. I’m sure you’ve never heard of them.”

“Believe it or not, actually, I have. My father works in the government of Al Dar Nasrani. He’s head of utilities and infrastructure for the country. I’ve heard him use the name before, I think.”

“Interesting.” Emma stuck her hand in a soaking bowl as directed by her tech. “I’m pretty sure I’ve probably placed some calls to your father’s office then. I’m the main receptionist for the company.”

“You probably have then. My apologies.”

Emma snickered. “Oh, your father’s office isn’t bad at all. Some of them are terrible. Thankfully, I don’t have to make them very often.”

“Why’s that?” Shayma picked out a polish from the tray the tech pointed at then refocused on Emma. “I’d think handling the phones would be a big part of a receptionist’s job.”

“Normally, it would be. But EnKor’s kind of weird that way.”

Interest piqued, Shayma leaned a bit closer. “How so?”

“Well, it’s an energy firm, so you’d think there’d be lots of meetings with utility companies and stuff, right?”

“Right.”

“But there’s not. In fact, no one ever comes in for meetings at all except for a couple of older gentlemen.” Emma snorted. “Which is probably a good thing, since we hardly have any furniture. No place for them to sit.”

Shayma frowned. “No furniture? How do they do business?”

“Good question.” Emma sighed. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve been hunting for another position for months now, but the market’s crap. At least EnKor pays well.” She lifted a shoulder and stared at the bright red polish the tech was painting on her nails. “I got to meet a senator once too. He’s the only man who ever stopped by on his own to see my boss, Frank Kent.”

“Huh.” Shayma filed the information away for later when she could tell Murphy about it all, then steered the conversation back toward safer topics like shopping and holiday prep. “Are you all ready for Christmas?”

“Mostly.” Emma shoved her freshly manicured hands into the UV dryer. “Still have a few odds and ends to pick up. How about you? Hitting all those fabulous sales out there?”

I wish. Shayma rolled her aching ankles and forced a smile. “Yes. And now my feet are killing me. I have one more stop to make after this, then I can head back home for the afternoon.”

They chatted about the best places to get decorations and the best vendors for trees, then Emma was done. Her timer dinged and she stood, grabbing her purse from the floor beside her. “Well, I’m back to work. It was nice to meet you, Shayma. Have a wonderful holiday.”

“Bye, Emma. Nice to meet you too.” She watched the other woman walk out as her own nails dried beneath the warm, bluish UV lights.

Once she was finished, Shayma headed back around the corner where Murphy waited, paper cup of coffee in hand and a scowl on his face.

“What did you find out?” he asked, after downing the rest of his coffee in one swig. He tossed the cup in the trash bin as they started back to his sister’s apartment. “Please tell me you found something so my frostbite isn’t in vain.”

“Hey, I was in and out in less than an hour. And you didn’t have to wait outside the whole time. Why didn’t you sit in the café where you got your coffee?”

“Too many people. Too cheerful. Too…” he shuddered and looked away.

It was then that his words from the previous evening returned to her mind and she realized that perhaps Murphy wasn’t handling his loneliness over his sister as well as he wanted people to think. Her heart ached for him and a new sense of protectiveness surrounded her where he was concerned. He was all alone over the holidays, same as her if she didn’t make it back home to Al Dar Nasrani in time. All the more reason to spiff up Aileen’s place and try to make it homier and more festive. Especially if he was staying there, which from looks of things he was. Truth was, she was feeling a bit lonely herself. What with Mel spending all of her free time with Daveed these days. She was actually glad she’d decided to stay at the apartment with Murphy last night. Mel had texted her that morning and told her Daveed and her had spent the night at their suite at the Plaza. She said he’d been impressed.

She snorted. Daveed could buy that place and everyone in it. If he’d been impressed by anything at the fancy hotel it had to have been his pretty little American fiancée.

Not that she begrudged them their love. Not at all, actually.

Seeing the two of them together and so happy gave her hope that she might find that same thing for herself someday. It was good she’d changed her mind about convincing Daveed to adhere to the marriage contract their parents had negotiated. They wouldn’t have suited, not like Daveed and Mel obviously did. Now, if only her Prince Charming would appear and sweep her off her feet on some magical Christmas adventure.

“Watch it!” Murphy reached out and blocked her with his arm, preventing her from stepping out into the street in front of oncoming traffic. He frowned over at her, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. “What’s the matter with you? You could’ve been hurt. Or worse. Pay attention.”

“Sorry. I was thinking.” She shook off her thoughts of a handsome stranger who’d swoop in and carry her off to a romantic hideaway and instead gave the grumpy Grinch next to her a side stare. “And yes, I did find out a couple of things from Emma.”

“Emma?”

“That’s the receptionist’s name. Nice girl. Not fond of her current job though. She’s looking to move on as soon as she can find something better.” The light turned green and they moved across the busy intersection with the rest of the crowd. “She said the place is almost empty inside, hardly any furniture at all, which supports your idea that it’s a sham company.”

“Great.” Murphy took her elbow to guide her around a large group of gawking tourists staring up at the Empire State Building, then let her go and shoved his hands back in his pockets fast, like he’d been burned by touching her. “What else?”

“Well, she said that hardly anyone ever comes into the office, except for the occasional older people from the local utility company.” Shayma sidestepped a red-suited Santa ringing a bell for donations and continued on beside Murphy, their long-legged strides well matched. “She did mention a visit from a Senator one time though, but didn’t say his name.”

“Interesting.”

They turned the corner and headed back down 54^th Street toward Aileen’s apartment.

“Oh, wait.” Shayma grabbed Murphy by the arm and pulled him to a stop in front of a shop where it looked like the holidays had exploded. Colorful twinkle lights covered every visible inch of wall space, along with all manner of ornaments and garlands. The air smelled of pine incense and happy carols played loudly over the speaker system. “You promised if I did my part at the salon we could stop on the way home and get decorations.”

“Aileen’s place isn’t home,” Murphy said, his tone dour. “Not without her there.”

Her heart pinched again and she bit her lip, wishing she could take back her insensitive words. “I’m sorry she’s missing, but I think if you let me do some decorating you’ll feel better. Plus, once she does come home, you want the place to look nice and jolly, right?”

He watched her for a few moments, silent, and she feared he’d refuse. But then his big, broad shoulders sagged and his head drooped down. “Fine. But nothing corny or over the top.”

“Deal.” She pulled him inside the packed store and immediately felt her own spirits begin to lift. Back home on the island, she loved spending hours in shops like this, immersing herself in holiday cheer. And while she had no formal training in decorating, she liked to think she had a flair for it. The work she’d done on her family’s home had even been featured in a magazine once, even if it was only published in Al Dar Nasrani. She told Murphy as much as they weaved through the crowds toward a towering display of twinkle lights. “They said I had an eye for color and style.”

“Hmm,” Murphy mumbled. He looked about as comfortable as a camel on an ice rink, but she wasn’t going to let his sour mood affect her Christmas buzz. Besides, if anything could get a person into a happy place, it would have to be this shop. It reminded her of a North Pole workshop, with all the wood and handmade signs pointing to different products. Even the help were dressed as elves. A guy in a green felt hat and shoes with jingle bells on the toes offered to help them find things, but Murphy gave the guy a black look that sent him scurrying away as fast as his red and green striped legs would carry him. “Let’s just hurry up and buy something so we can get out of here.”

“Bah-humbug to you too,” Shayma said, then laughed. “C’mon. Tis’ the season.”

“The season of insanity.” He picked up a package of garish purple and silver glitter balls and wrinkled his nose. “People actually put this crap on their trees?”

“Yes.” She took the package from his hand and put it back on the shelf, choosing a more tasteful gold and silver set. “The holidays aren’t about perfection. They’re about love.”

“Yeah, right.” Murphy gave a derisive snort. “Love of the almighty dollar, maybe.”

Jaw clenched, Shayma stopped and faced him, poking one red-leather gloved finger into his chest. “Listen, bub. I know you’re upset and sad and worried that your sister is missing. I am too. But I swear if you rain all over my holiday parade I will bust out all my military-trained moves on you and take your ass down before you can say Merry Christmas. Understand?”

At first, Murphy looked a bit astonished at her words, then a spark of heat fired within his dark eyes. So, he liked things rough, did he? An answering flare of desire spread outward from her core. Shayma might not be the most experienced gal on the block, but she’d had boyfriends. And lovers. And she didn’t mind a dominant man in her bed. Nope. Not at all.

Her mind filled with images of Murphy pressing her hard up against the wall with his body, kissing her rough and deep as he pulled off her clothes, the slide of his calloused hands on her skin as he stroked her and teased her and brought her to climax again and again until, finally, he buried himself within her, so far she didn’t know where his body ended and hers began. He’d fuck her hard and fast and so, so good and…

People jostled around them and jarred Shayma back to reality. She swallowed hard, at least comforted to know that Murphy looked as flummoxed as she felt. Had he been imagining them having sex too?

Cheeks prickling with heat, she turned away and grabbed far more gold and silver garlands that they could ever possibly need and shoved them into Murphy’s unresisting arms. Quickly, she also grabbed four boxes of white twinkle lights, two more sets of glass ornaments, and a pretty mirrored and glittered star for a tree topper. They made their way back to the front of the store and through the checkout line, all while an awkward silence descended between them.

Yep. He’d been thinking about sex too. She’d bet money on it.

The thought that he wanted her as much as she wanted him both thrilled and terrified her. Murphy was hot and smart and funny. Under different circumstances, she would’ve totally gone for him. But he was also her ex’s best friend, and under a lot of added stress from his sister’s disappearance. Tough times made people say and do things they wouldn’t normally. Add in the holiday madness and there was no way she could be sure Murphy’s desire was anything more than a lusty diversion from his real-life woes. Chances were good he’d drop her like a hot potato once she slept with him and the last thing Shayma wanted was to have her heart broken again.

Okay. She handed the cashier her platinum card then waited while the transaction went through. Truthfully, she hadn’t been heartbroken over Daveed ending their engagement. That’s what happened when your parents hooked you to a guy at the tender age of six. But still. It had been an upheaval in her life and she didn’t need any more messes to clean.

And given the way her blood rushed and her breath hitched and molten heat flooded her core each time she imagined Murphy naked and wrapped around her in bed, any affair they’d have together would definitely leave her with a mess to clean up. At least on her side of things. If she’d felt even half of what thrummed through her whenever she thought of Murphy Coen for Daveed, she might’ve fought to keep him. As it was, Daveed had moved firmly into the friend zone and Murphy? Well, Murphy was quickly becoming something else entirely. Which is what scared her the most. On impulse, because buying things always made her feel better, she snagged a garish red sweatshirt from a nearby rack with a huge picture of Saint Nick on the front and added it to her pile of purchases.

“Thank you for shopping at the North Pole Emporium. Have a Merry Christmas,” the clerk said, handing Shayma back her card and several large handled shopping bags full of their decorations. Murphy took four of them which left Shayma with only two, plus her handbag. He was always polite and considerate that way, despite his churlish attitude. It was just one more thing she liked about him. His courage and loyalty and snarky sense of humor were up there too.

They headed back out onto the sidewalk and down the block to a small vendor selling fresh cut trees on the corner. Together, they picked up a small, plump Douglas Fir and this time Murphy paid for it. He even smiled at the guy who sold it to them, which both shocked and dazzled Shayma. Perhaps a bit of holiday cheer was working its magic on him after all.

Loaded down with bags and the tree, they walked the last block to Aileen’s apartment and took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Murphy handed Shayma the key and she let them inside.

“Thanks for all this,” she said as she slipped off her coat.

“Yep.” He leaned the tree in the corner of the apartment where she’d indicated, a small open space across from the bedroom area, then brushed the stray pine needles and sap from the front of his insulated plaid work shirt. “You hungry?”

She hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning and her stomach grumbled. “Guess I am.”

“Good.” He took off his knit hat and set about cutting the ropes off the tree with a pocket knife. “Let’s get this damned tree done so we can go eat.”

So much for thinking he’d gotten into the spirit of Christmas.

While Shayma began opening and laying out their purchases from the store, Murphy dug through the closet near the bathroom and found not only an old tree stand, but also a box of Aileen’s ornaments. He brought both out into the living room and set them on the floor.

“Man, I haven’t seen some of these since I was a kid.” He pulled a toy wooden soldier ornament from the box. “I remember the year I carved this in class. Seventh grade, I think.”

“Aw, it’s adorable.” Shayma knelt beside him and reached into the box to find a photo of a young Murphy and his sister, huge grins on their faces and big presents on the floor in front of them. The photo had been mounted on wood and a hook strung through the top. “Look at you.” She held it up for Murphy to see. “You couldn’t have been more than nine or ten. So cute.”

He chuckled. “That was the year my dad nearly burnt down the house trying to make us a turkey. Didn’t go well. In fact, those smiles were about the last ones any of us had that day. We ended up at some Chinese place and had duck for dinner.”

“Nice.” She pulled out the rest of the stuff from the box while Murphy got the tree set up in the stand and watered. Then they set about stringing the lights, which was usually a minor disaster in the making. But with Murphy it was fun. A couple of times they ended up nearly running into each other as they worked their way around the tree in opposite directions, meeting face-to-face in the back near the windows. The tree couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, but with the snow gently falling outside and the old memories scattered around them it felt like a winter wonderland to her.

“Pardon me,” he said, ducking around her and breaking the spell.

“Sure,” she said, watching him walk around the tree again, a string of lights in his hand. Her throat felt tight with emotion and she wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be okay, even if it wouldn’t. Shayma finished stringing her lights, then continued on with the garland and ornaments. There was some left over and she directed Murphy on where to hang the boughs in the apartment. There was even a sprig of mistletoe in one of the bags, though she didn’t remember buying any. She hung that up over the space between the living room and the bedroom, just in case. By the time they were done, two hours had passed and she felt ravenous with hunger. They flopped down on the sofa and stared at the blank TV.

“Where should we go for dinner?” she asked. The clock on the wall in the kitchen said it was a bit after five. “Places will get crowded soon.”

“I was thinking of just grabbing a bite down by the pond in Bryant Park. The food vendors there are phenomenal and if we go now, there’s no lines.”

“Sounds great to me.”

They got ready and headed back downstairs, Shayma tired but happy and Murphy looking a bit less haggard than he had before. Maybe her plan to lighten his mood had worked after all. The light snow had cast everything in a veil of white and as they made their way to Bryant Park, Murphy pointed out different vendors or street performers with funny costumes. Shayma’s loneliness lifted for the first time since she’d come to New York. Yes, she’d made friends with Mel and there was always Daveed, but being with Murphy felt different.

Being with Murphy felt like home.

The area where the food trucks were located turned out to be a picturesque little spot that reminded her of some of the riverside areas in Paris. Same wrought iron benches, same French feeling to them. They got their food—shawarma for her, burger and fries for him—then walked over to a quaint little filigreed bench to eat. Kids were playing in the snow and people were strolling around. The bitter wind from earlier had died down now, leaving the whole space feeling like a Currier and Ives greeting card scene.

“How’s your food?” he asked around a bite of burger.

“Excellent. You were right. These people know their way around cuisine.” She took a bite of her spicy grilled lamb and veggies stuffed in pita bread. The cool cucumber sauce was the perfect foil to the zing on her tongue and brought back a much-needed taste of home. “Though my mom’s chicken recipe is still my favorite.”

“Look over there.” Murphy pointed to a spot where a crowd had gathered. Twilight was falling and in a flash the area lit up with twinkle lights and a Victorian carousel came to life. “That’s pretty cool.”

“It’s gorgeous!” She finished the last of her shawarma then tossed her trash into the bin as Murphy did the same. “C’mon. Let’s ride it.”

“Aw, I don’t know.” He dug his heels in. “It’s for the kids.”

“Says who?” She took his hand and tugged him forward. “Besides, everyone’s a kid at Christmastime.”

She dragged him over to the carousel and paid their fare then picked out two lovely horses, side-by-side, for them. Murphy, ever the gentleman, helped her up onto hers, then climbed aboard his, managing to look both reluctant and gorgeous at the same time. Shayma couldn’t help but giggle as the carousel started and they traveled in slow circles, gently rising and falling as the ride continued.

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on one of these things,” Murphy said over the calliope music booming out from the center of the carousel. “Had to have been before my mom walked out.”

Shayma winced and reached over to lay her hand atop his. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t your fault.”

The ride jostled and she slipped sideways a bit, squeaking as she lost her balance. Murphy reacted immediately, reaching out to steady her with his hand at her waist. The movement brought them closer, so close she could feel the heat of him through her coat and see the warmth rising in his dark eyes. Sparks of awareness whooshed into a wildfire inside her and before she could think better of it, Shayma closed the tiny gap between them and pressed her lips to Murphy’s.

At first he didn’t react at all. Then, slowly, he angled his lips across hers, his tongue tracing over her bottom lip to ask for entry. She gasped at the soft caress and he took advantage, sweeping inside her mouth. He tasted of mint and vinegar from his fries and pure, masculine desire. She couldn’t get enough.

Not caring about falling now, she let go of her horse completely and wrapped her arms around his neck, angling her body over the space between them so her weight balanced on his chest.

Murphy chuckled against her lips. “Easy, darling. We got all night.”

His words somehow penetrated the passionate haze in her brain and she pulled back just as the carousel slowed to a stop. What the hell was she doing? She had no business kissing Murphy Coen, no matter how delectable he looked with his swollen lips and desire-bright eyes.

“Thanks for riding tonight, folks,” the vendor said as he brought them to a halt at the ticket counter. “And if you’d like a memento of the evening, please have a look at our special ornaments for sale next door. Thank you and happy holidays.”

Shayma recovered first and slid off her horse. Knees wobbling, she carefully made her way off the wooden platform and waited for Murphy to do the same. Neither said a word as they made their way over to the vendor stand with all manner of carousel-themed ornaments for sale. She ended up buying two, both replicas of the horses they’d rode tonight, then they started back toward the apartment again.

Along the way, they passed a group of carolers and stopped to listen for a moment. Not wanting things to be awkward between them, she searched for some safe topic of conversation and landed on the information she’d learned at the nail salon earlier.

“I wonder if that senator has anything to do with the article Aileen was writing,” Shayma said, reaching up to adjust the pink beret on her head. It must’ve gotten knocked askew during their kiss. Her lips still tingled and she felt the connection between them thrumming like a symphony. If that ride hadn’t stopped, if they hadn’t been in public, chances were good she would’ve let Murphy continue, would’ve let him take her right then and there. She shifted slightly and hazarded a glance at the silent man beside her. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s time to put this holiday nonsense aside and get back to looking for my sister.” He grabbed her gloved hand and pulled her along behind him. “Let’s go.”