Amber put her phone back in her pocket. She’d texted Daisy almost as soon as the screen had gone black. What on earth was her friend thinking? Putting six complete strangers in a cabin on Christmas? That was nuts, and certainly not how Amber wanted to spend her favorite holiday.

But then, where else did she have to go?

Rowan sipped his drink before talking. “Well, I’m not sure about everyone else, but I’m starving.” He gauged what was left in the glass, shrugged and then tipped it back up and drained it. “If y’all don’t mind, I’m going to head into the kitchen and rustle up some grub. Anyone for grilled cheese?”

Juney smiled at him. “That sounds perfect. Do you need any help?”

He nodded. “If you’d like.”

“I’m going to start a fire . . . in the fireplace,” Austin said with a boyish grin, as he wandered over to the enormous round stone hearth and opened up the cover.

“So, we all agree then?” Will asked, making his way over to the big bay window that looked down onto a small, snow-covered gully. “We’re going to try this harebrained idea of Daisy’s and spend Christmas together?”

Amber lifted one shoulder and brushed her red bangs out of her eyes. She needed a haircut. A moment ago she’d been against the idea, spending her favorite holiday with a bunch of people she didn’t know. No way! But the longer she looked at the gorgeous tree, took in all the decorations and Mr. Sexy-Doctor-Man and his sexy doctor throat and sexy doctor hands, the more she didn’t think Daisy was that off her rocker anymore.

What was the worst that could happen? She’d spend five days and her favorite holiday eating food, drinking booze, snowboarding and hopefully getting ploughed from here to kingdom come by the M.D. over there? Where M.D. stood for Mighty Delicious.

“Why not?” she said, shaking her head and peeling her eyes away from Will’s taut derriere. “All expenses paid, essentially. A beautiful place to spend Christmas. Might as well. I know I have nothing better to do. It was either this, or a road trip down to California with my brother’s family, and he has three kids under five.”

Out of the corner of her eye she could have sworn she saw Will shudder.

Ha!

Her sentiments exactly.

Once the fire was roaring, everyone wandered through the living room into the kitchen, and sidled up to the bar that hung over the island in the rustic-meets-modern kitchen. It was an open concept designed cabin, so even from their perch they could still feel the warmth of the fire and see the snow falling outside. Everyone watched as Juney and Rowan, two people who had never met before that day, worked seamlessly together preparing a late lunch. With dark red brick, dark cherry wood cupboards and copper pots hanging up over the range, the kitchen was definitely cabiny and extremely homey. But then toss in the stainless steel top-of-the-line appliances, and suddenly the rustic wasn’t so rustic anymore.

“This is some pretty gourmet grilled cheese,” Juney joked. “I was thinking cheddar between two slices of whole wheat. But this, wow!”

Rowan’s grin was wide and warm. “I like to ramp things up . . . especially food.” He handed her one of his knives and a couple of shallots. “Be careful, please, these knives are incredibly sharp.”

Her lips curved faintly with the subtle hint of a smile. “Got it!”

“Let’s get to know one another.” Hunter beamed, pulling a barstool up next to Austin and accepting a drink from Will. “See if we can figure out who Daisy thinks belongs with whom.”

“Are you willing to start?” Austin asked, turning to face her.

Hunter swayed where she sat, and Amber chuckled softly to herself. Yeah, the dude was hot. Not as hot as the big black alpha-doctor, but hot. Austin’s eyes were the most intense green she’d ever seen. Dark like fern or red cedar bow or something, but with vibrant specks of gold. And that dark red scruff that hugged his chiseled cheeks and jaw made him look roguish and rough.

Pink dashed across Hunter’s cheeks. “Sure.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Austin’s mouth. “Okay . . . and go.”

She rolled her eyes. “All right, well, I’m Hunter. I’m twenty-six and own Breathe, Babe, Breathe clothing line.”

“Wait, you own it?” Austin asked. “I know this company. I like this company. I’m pretty sure I’m wearing your…I mean their underwear right now.”

Hunter bit her lips and nodded. “Yeah.”

Austin’s eyes, along with everyone else’s, were growing wider by the second. “As in all the stores?” he asked, a slight crack to his voice.

She nodded again with a smile. “Yeah. I started the company. It’s my baby. Anyway, I own Breathe, Babe, Breathe and Curiously Kinky at-home romance parties. I enjoy snowboarding, yoga, running, and when I can find the time to actually sit down and pick up a book, reading historical romances, particularly ones about ancient Europe, 1700s era.”

Austin’s eyebrows nearly shot clean off his head. “Holy crap,” he muttered, the pep in his voice suddenly disappearing. “I—I didn’t put two and two together when you’d been talking about your snowboard bag. I thought you’d gone and bought some eco-friendly fabric and knew your way around a sewing machine. But own.” He swallowed and he pulled his elbow away from Hunter’s. They’d both been resting their arms on the granite counter, less than an inch between them. Even though he hadn’t moved, based on his facial expression alone, it was as if the man had grabbed a big blanket and pulled it over his head.

He was shutting down.

“You said you’re twenty-six?” Will asked, his biceps flexing as he crossed his arms in front of his well-defined chest. Dear God, the man wore dominance and sexy like most people wore T-shirts. Amber’s nipples tightened against her bra as his strong throat undulated when he swallowed his scotch. What did that throat taste like? Will must have caught her staring, because his gaze roamed to her face, lingered on her lips, which she hadn’t realized until that moment she’d been licking, and returned to her eyes. One dark eyebrow slowly, sexily drifted up half an inch on his handsome face. His eyes darkened to the color of warm whiskey. Amber tightened her jaw to keep her mouth from dropping open.

“Yeah.” Hunter nodded. Her answer snapped Amber out of her erotic reverie.

“And you started this company all on your own?” Will continued, his gaze flicking back to Hunter and appearing genuinely curious. The blood in Amber’s veins suddenly started to run hot.

No. No. No! He can’t be interested in the little blonde.

Hunter nodded again, looking down at her knotted fingers.

“What’s your name again?” Amber asked, curiosity taking a front seat, despite her building jealousy.

“Hunter Kingsley,” she whispered.

“Hold the phone!” Amber raced back over to the living room and sifted through a few random magazines, coming back a second later. “Is this you?” She held up the magazine and Hunter cringed, burying her face in her glass but not actually taking a sip.

It was an image of her standing next to a bunch of bamboo stalks, wearing one of her popular bamboo dresses and holding up a sign that said, “Organic, Fair Trade and Competitively Priced,” a subtitle below said, “Hunter Kingsley, turning the clothing industry on its head, one sexy hemp dress at a time.”

“Oh God, I hate that picture. I hate that article,” she grumbled. “That is so not me. I’m not a bragger like that. But it was good for business, and my PR rep set it up before I could say no.”

“Holy crap,” Austin said again, rubbing his whiskered chin as he stared at her in awe.

Hunter rolled her eyes. “Yeah, anyway, I’m up here because as successful as my businesses are, I’m in a funk. You know how authors get writer’s block? Well, I’ve got designer’s block. Or entrepreneur’s block, or whatever you want to call it. I usually have a sketchpad full of ideas, but right now it’s empty.”

Will rested his hand on Hunter’s shoulder, humor in his deep brown eyes. “I find drinking helps. Not that I’m creative, but it helps get the ideas flowing, whatever they may be.”

Hunter nodded and took a sip of her drink. “Ah, yeah, that helps.”

Will grinned at Hunter. “Beautiful, successful and someone who appreciates good scotch. I guess the only question left to ask is . . . Stones or Beatles?”

A wash of invisible flames danced up Amber’s neck and cheeks. Was he flirting? Damn it, he was. Will liked Hunter. Shit!

Hunter’s amber eyes sparkled up at him and she grinned wide. “Stones, of course.”

Rowan drew out the big knife from his knife set and placed it on the cutting board. He picked up a couple of the bell peppers Juniper had washed and started to slice into them.

“All right, who’s next? Juniper?” he asked.

She flipped the grilled cheese in the pan as Rowan opened jars of olives and pickles. “You can call me Juney. Everyone does.”

He nodded. “Okay, Juney . . . what’s your story?”

Will, who appeared to be on his third or fourth drink, snorted where he sat, a cocky grin on his face. “Yeah, Juney, what’s your story?”

Rowan fought the urge not to glare at the man. Whether conscious of it or not, everyone seemed to be deferring to Will. An air of authority percolated the air around him. Maybe it was because he was a doctor, or appeared to be the oldest of the bunch, or that he was the biggest, tallest and most muscular, but either way, when Will spoke, everyone listened. Rowan wasn’t particularly bothered by that, either. He was cocky when it came to all things food-and kitchen-related, but as far as bravado went, he left that for the bigger guys. His skills, his expertise, his bravado were with a knife and a skillet. He didn’t need to seep alpha-juice from his pores to be considered a worthy adversary or person worth getting to know or admiring. No, Will could have the limelight. Rowan would earn their love through his food.

Juney let out a big sigh. “Well . . . I’m Canadian.”

Rowan’s head snapped up from where he’d been watching his blade slice through the peppers. “Really?”

She chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, is that going to be a problem?”

He quickly shook his head, admiring her knife skills and the expert way she julienned the carrots. “No, not at all. And now that I think about it, that totally explains your incessant apologizing earlier in the coffee shop. When you ran into my back, you said ‘sorry’ like eight times.”

Juney rolled her eyes, a pretty flush racing up her slender neck and into her cheeks. “I did not. Maybe only five.”

Laughter surrounded them.

“Well, you don’t seem as weird as some Canadians I’ve met,” Rowan chided. “But the jury’s still out.”

“Thanks?”

“What do you do?” Hunter asked her, coughing slightly as she took a big sip of her scotch.

“I run my family’s vineyard,” Juney answered. “Golden Sunrise Vineyard in Mission. We’re getting ready to open a restaurant and a new tasting room as well. And I’m a writer.”

“Wow!” a few voices murmured. Bellies grumbled at the sight and smell of what was currently sizzling on the grill.

“What do you write?” Rowan asked as he put together a plate of pickles, olives, cocktail onions and raw veggies. “Sappy romances? Women’s fiction? Books about finding yourself and being happy with the life you have? I mean, I have no problem with those kinds of books, but they’re definitely not my cup of oolong.”

Juney’s mouth twisted wryly as she sipped of her scotch. “Uh . . . mostly, paranormal and fantasy novels.”

“Really?” Rowan finished plating everyone’s grilled cheese and began passing them out. “Like what books?” He was a big fantasy nerd. His latest series kept him up until the wee hours of the morning, and he was growing rather impatient for the author to finish the next book. He was dying to know what happened when Turprol the Shefling rogue had gone into The Temple of Forbidden Life. The book ended with him walking in unarmed and alone. Rowan normally hated cliffhangers, but his favorite author knew how to do them just right.

“Have you heard of the Envious Souls Series? Not a lot of people have, so it’s okay if you haven’t.”

Smash!

Rowan dropped the plate he was holding, and his food splattered to the floor. The ceramic shattered into a dozen or more sharp pieces. “Shut the fuck up!”

Everyone stared at him wide-eyed, but he didn’t care. He didn’t even care that his lunch was currently in a mangled heap on the floor and covered in plate shrapnel. He took off to his room at a dead run and was back less than ten seconds later.

“You wrote this?” he asked. Well, more like accused. He held up the latest book in Juney’s Envious Souls Series, Nothing but Ashes. “You’re J.J. Davidson?”

Juney knelt down and began to collect Rowan’s meal off the floor. Hunter, who’d run and located a broom, stood next to her, waiting to sweep. Everyone else in the room was dead quiet.

“You’re J.J. Davidson?” Rowan asked again, this time with less accusation and more awe in his tone. Like a child who was finally getting to meet Santa, or their favorite sports hero or something.

Juney stood back up and opened the cupboard beneath the island to toss the sandwich into the trash. “Yes,” she said finally, lifting her head and meeting his gaze. “Juniper Jane Davis. But I tweaked my last name because Davidson has a better ring to it.”

“And you’re a woman?”

Will gave Rowan an incredulous look. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Amber glanced up at Will and grinned at him. “Exactly,” she said. “What does being a woman have to do with it? Women can do anything men can do. In fact, they can do more. And often do it better.”

Rowan shook his head, realizing how he must look and sound. “Sorry. It’s just, well, I love your books. They’re amazing. I have them all in hardcover, and I pre-order everything. I subscribe to your newsletter, follow you on Facebook. I just had no idea you were a woman. The way you’re able to write men. Do you have a bunch of brothers or something?” He was blathering like a fool, but he didn’t care. Some people want to meet celebrities or great scientists, politicians or religious figures, but Rowan? His list consisted of world-class chefs and J.J. Davidson.

Juney shook her head as she started making him another sandwich with some of the leftover ingredients. “Nope, two older sisters. Rose and Fern.”

“Are your parents into botany or something?” Will asked with mirth in his tone.

Juney rolled her eyes and laughed through her nose. “Or something.”

“Alliteration too?” Austin asked.

“Yup. Rose Renee and Fern Fiona,” Juney said with a snort.

“Well.” Rowan coughed, having finally regained some semblance of composure. “You’re definitely able to get into the head of men better than a lot of female writers. You’re . . . you’re one of my favorite authors, and I can’t believe I’m meeting you. It’s . . . ” He looked down at his feet at the sudden realization of how fanboy he was behaving. Embarrassment prickled along his skin, and the temperature in his face began to climb. “It’s an honor,” he said quietly.

Juney’s lip twitched. She put the spatula down and held out her hand, waiting for him to hand over the book. He did so, but with the excitement of a groupie or fan finally meeting their idol and getting their autograph. She reached into her purse and pulled out a fancy pen, flipped the front cover open and scribbled. A few seconds later she closed the book and handed it back to him with a faint smile.

“There you go. Now don’t ask me when the next one is coming out, because I haven’t even finished it yet. I’ve been so caught up trying to find a chef for this new restaurant that my manuscript has taken a back seat for the past month.” She flipped the sandwich and gave him a shy but genuine wink.

“Hey, has anyone noticed the mistletoe hanging overhead?” Hunter asked, pointing one long slender finger to the copper pots above Juney and Rowan’s heads.

Everyone’s eyes drifted upward to the small clump of foliage hanging by a red satin ribbon.

Juney’s eyes met Rowan’s, and she smiled sweetly at him.

Rowan was in love.

Will sidled up next to Amber, the sexy redhead, and took a healthy sip of his drink. God, he loved scotch. Amber had switched to wine at some point and was cradling her glass of red as they all sat around the island in the kitchen and watched Juney and Rowan tidy up.

“Holy Hannah!” Juney announced, her eyes going wide as she stopped wiping up crumbs from the counter and stared out the big picture window next to the tree. “When did that start?”

Everyone turned around to look out the window. The ground was covered; the limbs were covered. There was no denying that it would be a white Christmas for the six strangers, and now, by the way it was coming down in unrelenting buckets, not only would it be a white Christmas, but a snowed-in Christmas as well.

“Snowed in and set up,” Amber said with a half-laugh half-snort. “I wonder if Daisy planned the weather as well. That sounds like something she would do. Get a bunch of unsuspecting people in a secluded place, make it dump snow like there’s no tomorrow so they’re all forced to sit and stare at one another until they either hump like bunnies or throw on snowshoes, brave the blizzard, and hike back down the mountain to freedom.”

“Two choices, huh?” Hunter said with a smile, turning to Austin. “What would you choose?”

Austin’s throat bobbed as if he’d just swallowed a whole lemon, and his face shone a bright red. But he didn’t answer.

Will grinned. The genius had it bad for the little blonde, that was noticeable from space. He turned to face Amber. She’d been ogling him earlier, and he wanted to see if he could fluster her again. Her hazel eyes twinkled, and a sexy flush crept up her chest when she was rattled. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been much of a snowshoer myself.”

Amber’s gaze zipped up to him. He gave her a challenging glance back and lifted one eyebrow.

“Too soon to say,” she said blandly, though her eyes held a gleam to them that said “the former sounds much more appealing.”. Question was: did she think the former would be more appealing with Will? Was she his match? He certainly found her attractive and a little spitfire, with sass, attitude, and a bit of a chip on her shoulder. But he liked chips. A health nut because he had to be, Will numbered chips among his few vices. He liked salt and vinegar the best but would settle for dill pickle if forced to

“I know what I’d choose,” Will replied, flashing her his biggest smile and giving her a quick lone eyebrow lift for good measure.

Amber rolled her eyes, but the heavy swallow of her throat and slight twist of her lips betrayed the composure she was fighting to keep. “I’ll see if I can find some board games or something around here. It’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, and we need to pass the time somehow.” Her gaze drifted down to her drink. “And it can’t just be getting hammered.”

She disappeared down the hall, and Will couldn’t stop himself from checking out her ass. All firm and tucked tight in those sexy black skinny jeans, while a soft brown checkered flannel shirt covered her petite frame. He took inventory of the other four people as they chatted softly with one another. So figuring he’d found his match, or so he hoped, he wandered off down the hallway. He’d found her sexy from the beginning, but that ass, that ass had sealed the deal. He needed it beneath his palms, between his teeth — and fast.

“Need any help?”

Amber jumped at the sound of Will’s voice behind her. She’d been muttering to herself about this and that and the other thing, mainly the other thing, Will’s thing. He’d heard her. He fought to hide his smile, but knew it was a futile attempt. The woman was feisty. Spunky and cute, all wrapped up in a neat little freckled package.

Amber swallowed hard and licked her lips. “Uh, sure.”

Will’s eyes fell to her mouth. She slowly slid her tongue across the plumpness before sucking that fully cushioned lip between her teeth. He wanted those lips. He wanted those lips against his. He wanted those lips wrapped around his shaft as he buried his hands in her dark red hair and pulled, bucking fiercely into her face as she hummed and rammed him to the back of her throat.

Amber peeled herself away from his gaze and started opening cupboards.

She was flustered.

Good.

“Linen, linen, linen, towels, cleaning supplies. There has to be a games cupboard around here somewhere,” she murmured, continuing to make her way down the hallway.

Will stalked after her.

“Ah-ha!” she announced after about the hundredth or so door. She flung it open to reveal a treasure trove of games: floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with nothing but board games, chess sets, tins of dominoes, et cetera. “All right, doctor, come pick your poison. Which game would be less brutal on your ego losing to me? Operation, perhaps?”

He growled low and stepped up behind her. They were less than twelve inches apart now.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Do you think we were matched?” he asked softly. Desire heated the air, and hunger glowed bright in her amazing hazel eyes. He let his free hand come up and run down the length of her soft plaid shirt. The top few buttons were left undone, and he could see a white tank top peeking out, along with the fully rounded mounds of her creamy breasts. His cock twitched in his pants, and his pulse thundered through his veins.

Eyeing him with intrigue, she lifted one shoulder cavalierly and boldly reached out and grabbed his glass, tipping it up and draining it before wiping the back of her wrist across her mouth. “Ah.”

His eyebrows rose half an inch. She was ballsy. He liked that—a lot!

“Do you think we’re matched, Little Red?” He took a half-step forward until there was scarcely enough room for air between them, and Amber was forced to crane her neck to look up at him. He liked the way her eyes went wide as they slowly climbed the length of his body, only to finally stare at him, her face flushed and her mouth in a sexy little O.

“Fuck, you’re tall,” she muttered.

He chuckled. “You’re short. How tall are you?” Was she over five feet? He was going to guess no. Or just barely. Will was six-three, and at the moment Amber was eye-level with his chest.

Swallowing, she puffed out her sexy chest, and if he wasn’t mistaken, rose an inch or so. Was she on her tiptoes? “I’m four-eleven.”

He fought the urge to smile.

“And a half.”

He lost the battle, and his mouth split into a giant grin. Damn, she was something. “Do you think we’re a match?” he asked again, wanting to get back to the topic at hand. If Amber wasn’t interested, he needed to know now. Needed to either make the switch to Hunter or Juney, or make arrangements with his hand for the rest of the week.

She was nervous. But then some kind of resolute sureness washed over her. He watched it happen. Her back straightened, and her chin lifted so she was looking him square in the eye, nerves gone, replaced by nothing but pure and sultry confidence.

“Maybe. Would you like that?” Her fingers were right in front of his belt, and all he wanted was for her to reach out and unbuckle it, pull it through the loops on his jeans, then hand it to him and ask him to spank her.

His hand came up next to her ear. He let one finger graze her cheek. “I’d like a lot of things.” Slowly, he wedged his knee between her legs, and he dipped his head. “For starters . . . ” His mouth was inches from hers when they were suddenly thrown out of the moment by heavy stomping and a booming voice.

“You guys find a game yet?” Austin asked, his greenish-gold genius eyes taking in the moment. A big stupid grin took over his face. “Or are you playing your own game?”

Will shot him an irritated scowl. “We’ll be there in a second. Go stoke the fire, you little puppy.” He flicked his head as if to say, “Now git!”

Austin spun on his heels and loped back down the hall to join the others in the kitchen.

Amber chuckled low in her throat, wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him against her. “For starters?” she prodded

Something overhead caught Will’s eye. They both looked up.

“Where the hell is all the mistletoe coming from?” he asked.

Amber lifted one shoulder. “Elves?”

He hummed and turned back to face her. “Hmmm. For starters, right.” He tilted his head to the side and captured her mouth with his. Her lips were soft and warm, and the way they drifted across his sent red-hot shards of longing coursing through his body. His tongue darted out, coaxing her to part her lips and grant him access. She did so willingly, allowing him to wedge his way inside, teasing her, toying with her in long, lascivious licks until he could feel her body relax beneath his touch, smell her reaction. It was visceral, primal. He wanted to dip his hand beneath her waistband and check to see if she was wet, too. What did she taste like? His cock had ached inside his jeans as he watched that delicious ass of hers swish back and forth earlier. He’d been a fucking goner the moment she turned her back on him. And now, tasting her, feeling her, he knew if he didn’t stop soon he would punch a hole right through his pants.

Eventually, he pulled away. She whimpered in refusal, her hands tightening around his back. Her tight little fists gripped his shirt. Amusement flowed through him, and he laughed low and deep in his chest as he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. She whimpered again, this time pressing her hips against him for a half a second.

Oh, fucking Christ, the woman is going to kill me.

Will swallowed, then looked down at her. “Even if Daisy didn’t match us . . . for the next five days, you’re mine, Little Red. Got it?” Then, leaning forward and deliberately brushing his bicep across her breast, he grabbed Operation, Risk, and Scrabble before heading back to the living room.