Juney blinked. Once, twice, three times, a slow, placid smile spread across her face as she took in the man next to her. Rowan was awake, wide awake. And he was watching her.

“Good morning,” she yawned, reaching out from under the covers and cupping his scruffy blond chin.

“Merry Christmas, Juniper,” he said softly. His hand came up, and he covered hers, leaning into her touch and briefly closing his eyes.

Juney’s chest tightened. It was such a simple act, and yet it meant so much.

“Merry Christmas, Rowan.”

“What were you dreaming about? Book stuff?”

“Was I dreaming?” She yawned, pulling her hand away and instead scooting in close to him and draping her arm across his chest. He helped her tuck her head into the crook of his arm and draped those sexy muscles around her. She snuggled right in.

“Yeah, I think so. Your nose would wrinkle now and then, and you mumbled a few things.”

“Damn, was I giving you spoilers in my sleep?”

His deep, warm chuckle wrapped around her like a cashmere throw. “I didn’t hear any specifics. I’d plug my ears if I thought it would ruin the book for me.”

“Oh, good. I can’t remember what I was dreaming about. I rarely can.”

“I had a great dream.” His free hand came up and tucked under his head.

She lifted her head and swiveled her neck to look at him. “Oh, yeah? What about?”

“You, buck naked wearing nothing but an apron, a chef’s hat, and black stilettos. You were sitting on the stainless steel counter in a big restaurant-style kitchen, holding a wooden spatula and patting it against your palm.”

Juney swallowed. “And what were you doing?”

“I was finishing up a crudité.”

She laughed. Of course he was cooking. He was always cooking. But she loved that he had a passion. Something that woke him up in the morning, drove him to succeed, to excel, to strive for the top. Rowan’s tenacity was incredibly sexy, and his food was damn good, too.

“Ah, but then once I cleaned up and you tried my meal—you loved it, by the way—you begged me to toss you down face-first onto the counter, hike up your apron and fuck you from behind. Then you handed me the spatula and ordered me to spank your ass.”

“I did not!”

That smile. Those dimples. They would be the end of Juney.

“My dream, baby. You certainly did.” Rowan removed his hand from behind his head and grabbed Juney’s. He drew it down beneath the sheets to where his cock lay long and thick against his taut belly. She gripped it, and he moaned. She gripped it harder, and he moaned louder.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked, his voice a rough timber as she slowly snaked her hand a tad lower and cupped his balls, squeezing ever so slightly, earning the quick inhale from his lips she was seeking. “Me tanning your sweet ass as I pleasure you from behind. Taking you hard and fast.”

Licking her lips, Juney brought her gaze up to meet Rowan’s. There was no iris left in his eyes; it was all pupil, all lust, all need. Her hand moved beneath the sheets; back and forth she stroked him, loving the way he continued to grow and harden in her palm. Silky-soft, but so very hard.

“Tell me, Juney. Tell me your fantasies. I’d like to make them a reality if I could. Make you feel as special and wonderful as you truly are.”

Her heart did a little pitter-patter inside her chest as the man she’d only known for a few days said all the right things to her, made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman on earth. A woman he wanted to cherish and spoil until death do they part.

His free hand pulled on her nipple, and she gasped from the bite of pain that set her neurons alive and sent a building pleasure sprinting through her body, ending between her legs and unfurling into a divine heat.

“Tell me, Juney. Tell me your fantasies.”

Her breath audibly caught when he tugged even harder on the nipple. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and inhaled deeply. “Well, I like the dream you described. That sounds super-hot.”

“Mhmm . . . and?”

“And . . . I guess I’ve never really had sex in too public of a place. I’d like to get it on somewhere a little risqué, maybe a bar bathroom or the backseat of a car on the ferry or in an empty movie theater. Not too, too public. But you know . . . ”

Rowan’s hand slipped down Juney’s body, his fingers trailing fire along her skin. A finger pushed between her slick pussy lips, and he brushed her clit. “Yeah? Those all sound awesome. What else?”

Juney swallowed. “I . . . I’ve never been tied up before. That could be fun.”

“It certainly could be. We might have to ask Hunter if she recommends a certain silk rope or shackles.”

Juney’s leg twitched when Rowan rubbed that secret spot on her clit. The spot that made her whole body quake and her brain shut down. “Yeah,” she sighed, spreading her legs a little wider for him and pushing her pelvis into his inquisitive fingers.

Rowan’s hand slipped away, and Juney almost reached for him. “Well, we can definitely do all those things and more, Miss Davis. But right now, right now I think I’d like a sweet, old-fashioned Christmas morning fuck. What do you say?”

He rolled her onto her back and covered her, his eyes holding so much more than just lust, and for a moment Juney was tempted to say something. She was tempted to tell Rowan how much she already cared for him. How he made her feel beautiful and special, that he didn’t need to fulfill any of her fantasies, he was already fulfilling so much more for her than he could ever know. But she resisted the urge. It was too soon. Instead she let him settle in between her legs and wrapped her arms around his neck. They’d had the birth control conversation last night. He was clean, she was clean and had an IUD. They were good to go. Skin-to-skin.

“Get ready, baby.” Rowan chuckled. “Santa’s about to come down the chimney.”

“Oh, you did not just say—”

But she didn’t get to finish teasing him. His lips slanted over hers and his tongue wedged inside, silencing her while at the same time giving her exactly what she wanted for Christmas. Romance, the possibility of love, and hope for the future.

Juney yawned and snuggled in tighter against Rowan on the couch. It was later that morning, and they were all lazing around the living room, swaddled up tight in flannel robes and chenille throws and cradling spiked coffee. She was about to close her eyes. The Baileys in her coffee and the early morning orgasms were making her sleepy, but suddenly the television flicked on over the mantle.

“What the heck?” she asked, her eyes darting around to see who had snatched up the remote.

Heads shook and curious eyes wandered across curious faces, and then suddenly, Daisy appeared on the screen. Her loose strawberry-blonde curls jostled boisterously as she grinned at them.

“Hi, guys!” She waved. “I’m not live, so don’t bother asking me any questions. But I just wanted to wish you all a big Merry Christmas and see if everyone brought their Secret Santa gift.”

Groans echoed around the room, but slowly heads nodded.

“Good!” She clapped, continuing to bounce in her seat. “All right, first things first. I want everyone to put a number tag on their gift. There are gift tags in that drawer on the side table closest to the hearth. Once you’ve done that, put the other numbered tags into the velvet bag, and then everyone pick a number. Obviously, if you pick your own, try again. Got it?”

“Yes, mom,” Rowan said. Nobody had to see him to know he was rolling his eyes.

“That’s enough out of you, Rowan,” Daisy scolded.

Rowan’s back went ramrod straight and he snapped to attention, spinning around in his spot on the couch. “Okay, seriously, either we’re on a nanny cam or the woman is a mind reader.”

“My guess is on the nanny cam,” Will said with a snort. “She strikes me as a bit of a voyeur. All sweet and innocent on the outside, but on the inside she’s got some real twisted proclivities.”

Amber and Hunter both laughed and nodded. Austin’s face slowly turned the same color as his holly-red coffee mug.

“Yeah.” Rowan nodded. “My money is on that.”

“Anyway,” Juney interrupted. “Moving on.”

“Has everyone done what I’ve asked?” Daisy said on the television.

Both Rowan and Will, who were mighty comfortable all snuggled up with their women on the couch, both said “No” at the same time.

“Good!” Daisy clapped again. “Well, I’ll leave you to the gift opening. You all know how to do that. Just a reminder, the shuttle is coming for you at noon on December 28th. Until then, have a wonderful time, make memories, make friends and make . . . ” Her smile was sassy, and the twinkle of mischief in her bright blue eyes made everyone groan. “The most of your free matchmaking. Normally this kind of thing would have cost you a pretty penny.” She giggled at her hilarity and then wished them all Merry Christmas one more time before the screen went black.

“My present is in my room,” Will said with a yawn.

Amber nodded. “Mine too.”

“Mine too,” Austin said. He’d been rather quiet throughout the entire thing, as had Hunter.

She had shrouded herself in at least three blankets and was sitting against the hearth clutching her mug, her eyes fixed on the leg of the coffee table. “Me too,” she said absently.

“Well, mine is under the tree,” Juney said, getting up from her spot on the couch to go and grab a beautifully wrapped parcel with a green velvet bow.

“Of course it is,” Will said cheekily.

Juney shot him a look of mock irritation as she wandered back over to the coffee table. The gift was long and narrow, and the brushed gold wrapping paper reflected the lights on the trees as she brought it over and set it on the coffee table. She hoped that whoever wound up with her gift would like it. Even though she hadn’t given it a ton of thought, simply because she was just too busy with work, it was still a very nice gift. She sat back down next to Rowan with an audible huff.

“Mine’s in my room too.” Rowan gave Juney an affectionate rub on her thigh before hoisting himself up out of the soft, warm leather and, just like Amber, Will, Hunter and Austin, headed off to his room for the gift.

Her skin tingled where he’d touched her, and she wanted him to put his hand back.

“You’re such a keener.” He winked before he rounded the corner and headed down the hall.

Juney got up from her spot on the couch and went to go putter away in the kitchen. She and Rowan had been the first up, just like the day before, and they had nearly a third of Christmas dinner prepped before another Shanghaied vacationer poked their pillow-creased face into the kitchen.

Austin was the first back out to the living room, followed by Hunter. They avoided each other’s eyes as best they could, but when they plopped two identical gift bags down on the table, their gazes locked.

Hunter’s breath caught in her throat. Despite the fact that Austin didn’t want her, the attraction she had for him wasn’t going anywhere. Last night had been brutal. Between Juney and Rowan doing hand-stuff beneath the bubbling water and Amber and Will pretty much kicking them out of the hot tub so they could have sex, Hunter had had just about enough. And then there was that incredibly awkward, make you want to crawl into a hole and die, slow agonizing death moment in the hallway with Austin, and Hunter was pretty sure this Christmas was making its quick ascension to the top of the crap pile as far as Christmases went. A bunch of people she hardly knew, love in the air for everyone but her, a man she was interested in but who clearly wanted nothing to do with her, and to top it off, she’d woken up with a headache clawing at the nape of her neck and a zit the size of Jupiter’s biggest moon on her chin. Normally she wouldn’t have cared, but today she did, so before she joined the masses, she troweled on the concealer until the puss geyser was covered and no more than a slight peachy bump.

Undoubtedly the zit was probably from her need to make haste the night before in the bathroom. She cringed into her coffee mug at the horrible memory . . .

“Oh. Oh, sorry,” Hunter had mumbled, suddenly feeling her wine in her toes and bumping awkwardly into Austin’s hard, broad chest. She hadn’t been looking where she was going, her mind off in la la land and her eyes on her feet as she made her way to the bathroom, eager to shower, brush the booze off her teeth and climb into bed. Hot tubs always made her sleepy, and Santa didn’t bring presents to kids who weren’t in bed with visions of sugar plums doing the foxtrot through their heads and all that. She heard a faint moan down the hall from Juney’s room, and a stab of envy speared her heart.

“No, uh, it’s me. I’m sorry,” Austin grunted, taking a step back, his toiletries bag clutched in his big palm.

Hunter’s gaze drifted back down to her feet, then to the door, then the ceiling. She paused. Austin’s eyes followed hers.

What was with all the mistletoe? That hadn’t been there earlier in the day, had it?

Her eyes landed on Austin’s lips. They were beautiful lips. Shiny and red, plump and perfect. A primal urge attacked her, and she ran her tongue between the seam of her own lips. Austin’s eyes were like laser beams, watching her every move. Had he even blinked?

She didn’t move an inch, not even a millimeter. Hunter’s chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths. Austin’s nostrils flared and his green eyes darkened to the color of red cedar boughs.

“I, uh, I don’t think that was there earlier? Mistletoe seems to be popping up everywhere.” She chuckled uncomfortably and rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Like there’s a sneaky little elf somewhere hanging them in the most random places. Desperate to make everyone around here kiss.”

Austin’s eyelids fell to half-mast, and his Adam’s apple jogged heavy in his throat.

Jesus Christ, man, fucking say something. Anything!

“Y-you go first,” he finally stammered, pushing the door open for her before bringing both his hands down to the front of his pants. He held his toiletries bag in front of his lap and gestured with his head for her to go inside.

Hunter glanced into the washroom and then back to Austin’s face. The man appeared terrified. She followed his gaze. He was staring at her chest.

Shit!

She had already changed into her pajamas, taken her bra off, and was in nothing more than a peachy pink tank top with the words “Breathe” over her breasts. But there was no mistaking her dusky areolas beneath the thin fabric, and her nipples had hardened to tight, painful points. She suppressed the desire to cup her breasts and relieve their sudden, heavy ache. She wanted Austin’s hands on her. Austin’s lips on her. Austin’s body pressing hers up against the wall as he rammed his cock inside her, swift and sure.

What was his problem? He was clearly attracted to her. All the physiological signs were there. So, what was it? Did he just not like her? Was it her personality? Was he not into blondes? Had he hoped for Juney or Amber to be his match?

More importantly, what was her problem? She’d never lusted after a man like this before. And certainly not one who continued to treat her this way and show her little interest. But despite it all, she was drawn to Austin. He was unlike any man she’d met before. Unlike any man she’d been attracted to before. His big brain, his shyness, his awkwardness, they were refreshing and appealing. She was intrigued by the quiet introvert, saw something special in him. He didn’t say much, but she knew there was probably a heart nearly as big as his brain inside that sculpted chest of his. Hunter had always gone with her gut in business, but never love, and look where that had landed her. Maybe now, maybe Christmas was when she should start listening to her gut . . . and heart.

But when he quickly averted his gaze and clenched his jaw, disappointment and melancholy flowed icy-cold through her veins. Biting her cheek until she tasted blood, she nodded. She would not cry. Not here. Not right now. With a hard swallow and a tight smile, she ducked inside the bathroom, shutting the door quickly, and even though she knew he wouldn’t come in, locked it.

Remembering last night made fresh tears burn Hunter’s eyes as she sat in the living room avoiding Austin’s face the best she could. She’d been quick in the bathroom, not bothering with a shower, and cutting in half her normal length of time to scrub her face and brush her teeth, floss and apply her night cream. She knew Austin needed to use the washroom too, and she didn’t want to make him wait too long. Well, that haste had resulted in a big ol’ Christmas pus volcano on her chin and a night of endless tossing and turning and restless sleep.

In the end, Hunter knew what the problem was. She was sexually frustrated. Austin’s eyes, his body, his hands and images of them doing despicably wonderful things to her flitted through her mind as she reached for the battery-operated boyfriend beneath her pillow and brought the wand down beneath the sheets. It didn’t take long; Hunter knew how to pleasure herself, knew how to get the job done so she could sleep. A few minutes of pressing on her G-spot, a couple of flicks with her finger on her clit, and she was sighing and sinking into the mattress, her lids slowly closing while Austin’s eyes, those beautiful goldish-green eyes, were the last thing she thought of before sleep finally claimed her.

“You okay?” Amber asked, Will in her wake as they rejoined everyone in the living room, wrapped parcels and gift bags in hand.

Snapping back to reality, and leaving last night where it belonged — in the past — Hunter let out a pained sigh and sipped her coffee, inhaling abruptly and wincing when it burned her tongue. “Just peachy.”

Amber’s whole body vibrated as she plunked the perfectly wrapped present on the table, then flopped back onto the sofa. Her eyes sparkled as she secretly patted herself on the back for her beautiful gift-wrap job. Her family assumed she paid a professional to wrap her presents for her, especially given how clean the lines were and intricate the bows. But no. Amber did it all herself. She loved wrapping presents, especially Christmas ones. There was just something so therapeutic and relaxing about hearing the sound of the scissors gliding through the glossy paper, or pulling the single blade along a stretch of ribbon, only to watch it curl. Then add in the joy of watching someone unwrap that gift, marveling and commenting about how beautifully it’s wrapped, then light up even more when they found the treasure inside—it made Amber’s insides turn to goo and her heart do a happy thumpity-thump.

Will’s gift took its place next to hers, and he pulled her against his firm body, tucking her small frame under his arm. “What’s up with you?” he asked, an amused smirk tugging his sensuous and cushiony lips.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You seem different. Giddy or something. You like Christmas?”

Amber made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “No. I mean I don’t hate it. But I’m . . . I’m whatever about Christmas. Never had a particularly bad one if that’s what you’re asking. But . . . whatever.”

Dear God, why did she feel that it wasn’t okay for her to divulge her true obsession for the holiday? That when she left work every day between December 1st and December 25th, she stopped in at Starbucks, bought an eggnog chai tea latte and a cranberry bliss bar and then cranked up the carols and sang along on her drive home. Only to toss her keys into the hand-painted (by Amber) snowman bowl by her front door, flick on the lights of the giant Christmas tree in her living room and bake Christmas cookies until bedtime. She brought the cookies to work with her on occasion, saying her mother or sisters-in-law made them, but no, Amber was the one who used pretzels as reindeer antlers and mini marshmallows for snowmen. Christmas meant the world to her, and yet no one in her world knew it.

Will shrugged. “Okay. You just seem . . . happy.”

Desperate to change the subject, she let her hand fall to Will’s thigh, and inch by inch, her fingers crept along until the middle one brushed his crotch.

Like a groggy poked sleeping bear, it twitched beneath her finger.

“I am happy,” she said. “After last night . . . and this morning. I’d say that’s one of the best Christmas Eves and mornings I’ve ever had. What a way to fall asleep and wake up.”

He hummed so deep in his throat that it sounded more like a purr. “My head bobbing up and down between those sweet thighs of yours. Little Red, I’ll wake you up that way every morning on this trip if I can.”

Amber’s nipples tightened beneath her tank top, and she licked her lips. She wanted more than this trip with Will. She wanted every morning and every night to be like the last they’d shared, with nothing but hot, sweaty sex and talking. They actually talked a lot, to Amber’s surprise. Before joining the rest of the group in the morning and after Amber’s TWO wake-up orgasms, they’d snuggled a bit in bed, and Will spoke more of his time abroad working with Doctors Without Borders and his current job at the hospital.

He was sweet, funny, and kind, and the way his tongue and fingers made her toes curl and her body quiver, Amber knew she wouldn’t be ready to let go of Will when December 28th rolled around.

No.

Now she had to figure out a way to make that clear.

“All right, everyone,” Juney sang, swaying her soft curves around the island in the kitchen and back into the living room. She was clutching a fresh cup of coffee in front of her nose, the steam rising up and quickly fogging up her glasses. “Let’s do this.”

She took a seat next to Rowan, who had rejoined the group, and he casually draped an arm around her shoulder, planting an ephemeral kiss to her temple. She smiled from the touch of intimacy. That only prompted Amber to give Will’s thigh another squeeze, enjoying her own new intimacy and how it set butterflies all aflutter in her belly.

Hunter drew the tags out and quietly labeled all the gifts with numbers. Once she was done, she put the matching number tags into the small bag Daisy had mentioned minutes ago. “Who wants to go first?” she asked, waving the bag toward Will while deliberately avoiding eye contact with Austin. His eyes hadn’t left the side of Hunter’s head since she’d sat back down.

“Oh, all right,” Will said with a grunt and an eye roll, leaning forward and taking the bag. He dug around for a bit, making a show of it; his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth and his lips twisted up in feigned effort. “Let’s see here.”

Amber chuckled to herself. See, even the surly doctor had a fun side.

Will’s big, sexy hand emerged from the bag, and he held out the number. “Four,” he said, bending forward and checking to see the number on each of the gifts. His hand stopped on Amber’s perfectly wrapped package, and he picked it up. “This yours, Little Red?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” He grinned at her as he slid one of those long, capable fingers along the perfect seam of the paper, prying the tape up just right so as not to ruin the wrap job.

“Wait!” Juney said, making Will stop his torturously slow unwrapping. “Let’s all pull numbers, and then we can open them together.”

Will nodded. “I like that. Less time wasted. Here.” He passed the bag of numbers to Amber. “Your turn.”

Amber’s heart sank.

No.

This was not Christmas. It couldn’t be rushed. She wanted to watch each person open their gift and express joy. But not wanting to go against the rest and reveal her true love for all things Christmas, she kept her mouth shut and drew out a number.

“Two.” She leaned forward and sifted through the gifts, grabbing the bright silver bag with red tissue paper sticking out. It was heavy.

Will made a manly noise in his throat. “That’s mine.”

Amber’s pulse quickened in her veins. What were the odds? She passed the velvet bag to Juney.

“One,” Juney said, wasting no time and immediately extracting a number. She found the package labeled one and settled it into her lap while passing the bag of numbers to Rowan. He was just as speedy and leaned forward, mumbling “five” under his breath.

Rowan passed the bag of numbers to Austin, and he plunged his hand inside. He only had two more to choose from. Austin pulled out his number, then passed the bag to Hunter, his eyes never leaving her face. She continued to avoid his gaze.

“Everybody got their number and their gift?” Juney asked. “And you’ve made sure you didn’t grab your own?”

Heads bobbed up and down in nods.

“Okay, awesome.” She looked down at Rowan’s lap. “Hey, you have mine.”

Rowan grinned. “Do I?” His gaze fell to her hands. “And you have mine.”

“And I have Amber’s,” Will added. “And . . .” He glanced her way. “She has mine.”

“That means . . . ” Juney went on, her mouth turning up into a big grin, “that Hunter and Austin have swapped too.”

“Spooky.” Rowan chuckled.

Amber’s insides slowly warmed and turned to happy mush. No, Christmas magic.

“Okay, everyone . . . and . . . unwrap,” Juney announced, her eyes falling to Rowan and drinking him in, as if his gift was something purposefully selected just for her and not a secret Santa gift that could have ended up with anyone.

Paper rustled and tape tore while bows were pulled and bags gently pried open.

“Wait, a second,” Hunter hummed, opening up her gift bag. Everyone paused. “I think I got my bag.” Her eyes zipped up to Austin just as he pulled out a bottle of Patron tequila and what looked to be two concert tickets.

Austin’s eyes went wide.

Hunter reached into her bag and pulled out the exact same thing. A bottle of Patron and two concert tickets.

“What the heck?” Hunter said.

Austin was shaking his head.

“Did you guys give the exact same thing?” Rowan asked with an amused chuckle.

Hunter nodded. “Yeah. Tequila and concert tickets.”

Austin continued to shake his head.

“How’d you both score concert tickets?” Juney asked.

Hunter answered as if on autopilot, “I love the Arkells and bought thirty tickets when they first went on sale. Gave them to my staff as Christmas presents. I had a few left over.”

“I love the Arkells too and my boss has connections and got me some tickets. I’d asked him for two, but he scored four,” Austin said with awe in his tone, still staring at the tickets and tequila and shaking his head. “Though your seats are better than mine.”

“And I love tequila,” Hunter said.

“Me too,” Austin muttered.

“Wow,” Rowan said, exhaling loudly. “That’s pretty crazy. Match!”

Juney elbowed him.

He gave her a mock look of mortification. “What?”

“What did you get, Amber?” Juney asked. It was obvious she was trying to take the focus off of Hunter and Austin and their awkward pre-teen drama.

Amber had been busy getting a secret high from the intense Christmas whimsy and magic unfolding before her as Austin and Hunter, two people who were so meant to be together, opened up the same gift. Great minds. Common interests. Attraction. Why couldn’t they just act on it? Let the spirit and wonder, the joy of the holiday envelop them.

“Huh, what?” Amber asked, shaking her head and turning to Juney.

“What did you get?”

Amber dug around inside the bag she knew to be from Will and slowly pulled out the heavy object. Her breath caught in her throat as she gasped.

Will rolled his eyes. “Corny, I know. I’m sorry. There’s a bottle of scotch in there too, to make up for the ridiculous snow globe. I just saw it at the store the other day when I was out grabbing booze, and it reminded me I needed a secret Santa gift. But it’s kind of cute, right? A snowman with a tool belt building a snow fort.” He snorted a laugh through his nose. “Why does he need a tool belt? It’s snow. He doesn’t need a hammer or saw or screwdriver. And it fits, ’cause you’re in construction.”

Now it was time for Amber’s head to shake.

The magic of Christmas at work again.

She’d seen this snow globe in the grocery store the first week of December. She hadn’t bought it then, deciding she would go back and buy it the next time she was out getting groceries. Only it hadn’t been there. And it hadn’t been there the next time either. She’d asked at customer service and even put in an order, but they’d claimed the warehouse was out. Even eBay and Amazon had resulted in zilch. Crestfallen, she’d come to terms, although not without a few choice words once back inside her car, that she just wasn’t meant to have this adorable snow globe. Wasn’t meant to add it to her collection that sat on her coffee table for six weeks during the holiday season and then got carefully wrapped up in paper and tucked away for the other ten and half months of the year.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes and her throat threatened to close up. Her head was still shaking. “No,” she finally said. “No. I . . . I lo-like it. I like it. It’s . . . it’s super cute. Thank you. And scotch . . .” She chuckled to hide the emotion roiling inside of her. “Well, scotch this expensive is always appreciated. Thank you.”

Will’s smile was small but genuine. “You’re welcome.”

“Your turn,” she said.

Will’s finger plunged back in between the pristinely wrapped paper, and the tape popped free. Amber sat there on pins and needles, watching as he gently unfurled and then folded the paper, the plain green box sitting on his taut thighs waiting to be opened. Would he think it was stupid? Corny? Lame? Hopefully not. Like all Christmas gifts, including ones for strangers, Amber had put a lot of thought into this gift. Along with the gifts for her parents, a new fly-fishing rod for her dad and a gift certificate for pole dancing lessons for her mother (yes, pole dancing lessons; Muriel Roth was a free-spirited woman with an open mind and a zest for adventure and the kinky side), as well as presents for her brothers, their wives and children, Amber had spent nearly an hour wandering around the mall searching for the right gift for the secret Santa.

Will opened the box to reveal a bottle of rare twenty-one-year-old scotch, a box of gold-leaf-flecked chocolate truffles and a four-pack sampler of Puget Sound Potato Chip Company’s newest flavors: habanero cheddar and chive, rice vinegar and kelp, balsamic and basil, and honey mustard with roasted garlic.

His hand paused, and his eyes drifted up to Amber’s face. “H-how . . . how did you know?”

She cocked her head to the side, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She couldn’t get a read on his reaction. He didn’t seem upset, but there wasn’t a smile on his face either. More than anything, the man seemed confused, if not a tad spooked. “How did I know what?”

“Th-that I love potato chips and this is my favorite scotch? The liquor store was out when I went, otherwise it’s what I would have given you, too.”

Her pulse thudded loud and quick in Amber’s skull. She could barely hear him or anyone else. “I—I didn’t know. This was secret Santa, remember? I just bought some nice things. This is my dad’s favorite scotch, and I really like potato chips, they’re one of my vices. And, well, chocolate with gold, how can you go wrong?”

Big, beautiful brown eyes twinkled back at her. If she wasn’t mistaken, Will’s eyes even teared up a bit. The irises darkened and appeared glassy, and his sexy throat bobbed heavy and thick. He nodded once, twice and then closed the box.

“Thank you, Little Red. This is a great gift.”

If it were possible, Amber’s heart inflated and deflated at the same time. He loved her gift, but he suppressed his reaction. What was up?

“Me next,” Rowan said, having patiently waited for Will to open his gift. He tore off the paper like a fervent kindergartener then opened the box. “What the hell?” he practically hollered.

Juney sat there biting her lip.

Rowan turned to face her. “A St. Maurice Lefebvre knife? How the heck did you get your hands on this?”

Juney’s teeth slowly slipped off her bottom lip as her mouth drew up into a big, infectious smile. “I, uh . . . I know the rep. We’ve set the kitchen up in our new restaurant with all St. Maurice Lefebvre knives and kitchen accessories, and the rep tossed in a couple of extras because, well, he likes me, our order is going to pay for his kid’s first year of college, and I gave him a case of wine as a Christmas present.”

Rowan shook his head. “These knives . . . Holy shit. These knives make Henckel look like Ikea. I’ve been coveting. No, coveting is an understatement. I’ve been dreaming, worshipping, obsessing over these knives for ages. I just . . . Well, they’re not cheap, and I’m not exactly employed at the moment.”

Juney lifted one shoulder. “It’s not the whole set, but it is the biggest blade. Hopefully it works to chop things like carrots and celery and stuff. The rep said they’re sharp, so be careful.”

Had the man blinked yet? Amber wasn’t sure.

“I’m not sure I can even bring myself to use it,” he said.

Will snorted. Hunter chuckled, and Austin made a noise Amber couldn’t quite discern; was it a scoff? A hiccup?

“No, you should probably use it,” Juney said with a laugh. “And I tossed in a bottle of my family’s finest as well. A 2007 merlot, so don’t drop that bottle. It’s worth almost as much as the knife.”

Rowan’s gaze zipped to Juney’s face. Amber’s own core clenched, and her nipples tightened again against her tank top. The way Rowan was staring at Juney was enough to make anyone feel the heat and longing. So feral, so lustful. Was anyone else seeing this? The man was ready to take the little novelist right then and there on the couch. His eyes flashed pure need, while his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated.

“I can’t believe you managed to get your hands on this knife,” he said softly, gently running his finger along the side of the blade, having removed it from its velvet casing. “My gift isn’t going to be nearly as amazing. At least not now. And not with you as the recipient.”

Juney’s lip twisted. “I’m sure it’s going to be a great gift.” She opened the bag and lifted out a hardcover copy of a book. “Endless Souls: Book 1, Ravens Will Cry. By J.J. Davidson. Oh, I hear she’s good.” Her body shook lightly with merriment as she opened up the front cover. “And it’s signed. Wow, a limited edition. This wasn’t cheap.”

Rowan’s lips wiggled sheepishly. “I have two copies. I bought two, just . . . because, and then I didn’t get my ass in gear to buy a secret Santa gift, so I tossed this in last minute and stopped and grabbed a bottle of wine.”

Juney put her hand back in the bag and lifted out a bottle of pinot noir. “Mmmm, Unbridled Passion Vineyards. I love their wine. This is wonderful, thank you.”

Rowan looked down at his lap. “I’m sorry, Juney. It’s nothing compared to your gift.”

She shook her head and placed her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “No, it’s fine. It’s better than fine. I love my own books, and I love this wine. Thank you. Besides, you didn’t know you’d be spending Christmas with the author, or that she would be opening your gift.” She chuckled softly. “The universe has a funny sense of humor sometimes.”

More like the magic and wonder of Christmas. But Amber didn’t say that out loud. Instead, she lightly shook her beautiful snow globe and watched all the flurries flutter around.

“Isn’t it crazy that we ended up with one another’s gifts, and that we all love what we received, and we all gave the same kind of booze? Wine, scotch and tequila.” Juney turned the bottle of wine over and read the label. “I mean, it’s nuts.”

“I think it’s kind of funny that all six of us bought alcohol,” Will said with a laugh.

“Anyway,” Rowan said, stretching his arms above his head and groaning lightly, “I better get in that kitchen. That turkey isn’t going to stuff itself.” And then as if a light flicked on inside his brain, he paused and perked up. “Would you guys object to having only turkey breast for dinner with baked stuffing? I have an idea for the dark meat. I noticed a meat grinder in the cupboard and was thinking about making turkey burgers for our last night here.”

Heads shook and shoulders shrugged.

“Not at all,” Hunter said with a yawn. “That sounds good.” She stood up from her nest of blankets on the floor and picked up her gift bag. “I’m going to go and have a shower. Then I’ll come out and help with breakfast.”

Juney wandered into the kitchen behind Rowan, her hand lightly grazing his back as he peeled his new knife out of its casing and gently ran it under the faucet. “I’ll get going on breakfast. Everyone good with fruit salad, soft boiled eggs, and toast? Something light before a big meal.”

Now heads were nodding.

“I have to go shovel the driveway,” Austin muttered, getting up from where he sat. He’d been quieter than normal since they’d all opened their gifts. Amber wanted to reach out to him, but she wasn’t sure how responsive he would be.

Amber began cleaning up the mess of wrapping paper and gifts, grabbing a plastic bag from under the sink and collecting everything that could be burned later in the fireplace.

“I’m going to call my mom,” Will said blandly, getting up from his spot on the couch. “It’s already Christmas afternoon in Trinidad, so she’s probably at my granny’s getting the goat ready for dinner.” With a wink and a smile at Amber, he took off to the bedroom.

“Has that guy lifted a finger since he arrived?” Rowan asked, the blade in his hand gliding through a raw carrot as if it were no more than a warm stick of butter.

“Not unless it’s topping up his drink,” Juney said with a chuckle. “He’s taking this whole vacation thing seriously.”

Amber’s cheeks caught fire. It was true. She’d been noticing it here and there, but hadn’t really given it much thought. But Rowan was right, Will was totally freeloading. Everyone else did something around the cabin to carry their weight. Rowan and Juney always jumped into the kitchen, she and Hunter were usually on cleanup, sweeping and tidying and doing dishes, and Austin had designated himself the keeper of the fire and official driveway shoveler. He was out there multiple times a day, keeping the walkway ploughed and the driveway clear. But what was Will doing to pitch in? Besides that first night, where he’d grabbed everyone a drink, the man hadn’t done a thing to help out. He was sitting back and letting everyone else do the work, while he reaped all the benefits.

Hmm. Was this something she could bring up with him? Were they close enough yet? She folded the wrapping paper from her gift to Will and continued to think. Maybe she could ask him to help her do the dishes? Shoo Austin and Hunter out of the kitchen to go avoid eye contact with each other in the living room while she and Will scrubbed pots together. Yeah. She nodded and smiled to herself. That sounded like a great plan.